Page 40 of Protect Me
I turn around and find Duncan standing way too close. I stare up at him, forgetting to breathe for a second as his piercing blue eyes stab right through my defenses. His carefully constructed mask is still in place, but his stormy gaze tells me there’s far more going on beneath the surface than he lets on.
“I need to work on my routine,” I say, breathless at our closeness.
My thrumming pulse is near deafening.
My gaze drops to his full mouth, and I wonder again what it would be like to kiss him. He’s wound so tight. What would it be like to see him lose control? To stop holding me at arm’s length and touch me instead? And why the hell do I care?
Mere days ago, I was beaten to within an inch of my life by a man.
Shouldn’t I be wary of the entire gender? But these men don’t scare me. They make me feel things I never thought I’d feel for anyone.
“Killian and Bracken think you’re interested in them.”
It’s the last thing I expect him to say, so it takes me a moment to find my voice. “Excuse me?”
“Are you?” he presses.
“That’s none of your business.”
For some reason I can’t fathom, he leans closer. “Everything that happens in this place is my business. But especially you, Sway. You’ve been my business since you first stumbled onto our property.”
The way he says it sends a shudder through me.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I shoot back.
His eyes narrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You act like I’m some annoying project to you. And when we’re alone, you can’t seem to get away from me fast enough.”
He moves in and braces his arms on either side of my head, dipping so that our noses are almost brushing. Eye to eye with me, he says, “I’m not running now.”
His mouth. Right there...
I blink, my temper outweighing my very theatrical fantasies. “No, but you’re testing me.”
I shove him away, and maybe out of surprise, he backs off. But he doesn’t argue. And that speaks volumes.
“I’m done playing whatever game this is,” I tell him. “You can tell Bracken and Killian that, if this is how you treat all of the people you promise to protect, I don’t want it.”
Temper flashes in his eyes. “My promise to protect you has nothing to do with this.”
“I don’t even know what this is,” I toss back.
“Do you love him?”
“Who?”
“Your fiancé. Do you love him?”
“I told you, I’m nothing to him.”
“You said that. But you didn’t say what you feel for him.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because I’m going to kill him, Sway. When I find him—and I will find him—he will suffer. There will be pain. And torture. And he’ll beg for death before I give it. So, I need to know, do you love him? Are you going to blame me for all the horrible things I intend to do to the monster who hurt you?”
“No,” I tell him, a little awed by the smoothness of the mask he wears as he paints a picture of torture and death. What must he have seen and gone through to become this? Suddenly, his crafted exterior makes so much sense. It’s his control. When he can’t control anyone else, he can control himself. His emotions. And what he lets everyone else see of him.