Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Another pause from Kelly. Then, in a quieter voice, “I don’t like this.”
I swallow hard. “I know.”
“But you’re my best friend,” she says, voice full of something I can’t explain. “And I’ll do anything.”
Something in my chest tightens.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She sighs. “I love you, Ally. I just want to know what’s going on.”
I force a weak smile. “I know and I love you too.”
Chux reaches over, ending the call before she can say anything else.
I exhale shakily, handing the phone back. “Happy now? I didn’t tell her anything.”
He studies me for a moment. “No.”
I frown. “Why?”
His jaw tics. “Because she’s right. You do owe her an explanation. And eventually, you’re gonna have to give it.”
I look away, staring at the dark wood of the table.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I know.”
How can I explain something I don’t understand?
CHAPTER 9
DAMIAN
“It’s early.” I explain knowing she’s used to this getting to work before the sun comes up. “Kelly is sorted. Now lay back down.”
She studies me, hesitating before she finally comes back to bed. I toss the phone I got from Riot to my nightstand. She tries the same thing from last night, rolling to her side, her back to me. And like before, I roll into her scooping her against me and rolling us both, me to my back and her draped over me. This time, I run my hand softly against the back of her neck until she settles and falls back into a slumber.
The first thing I hear when I wake up is the soft sound of her breathing.
The second thing?
The low growl of her stomach.
A slow smirk tugs at my lips. Guess she’s human after all.
I shift, sliding my arm from beneath her, careful not to startle her too much—though I know she’s going to be rattled when she realizes where she is again. That’s what happens when reality hits. The fear creeps back in.
I sit up, rubbing the back of my neck before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I don’t bother looking at her yet—I can feel her staring.
She’s tense. Waiting. Watching.
Anticipating
Let her.
I push up from the bed and make my way to the dresser tucked against the far wall. I don’t miss the way her breath catches when I pull open the top drawer and grab a pair of gray sweatpants. Yeah. She wasn’t expecting that. Jeans are good for riding, not for lounging around the house.
I slide them on, taking my time, letting the silence stretch.
She probably assumed I didn’t have anything here, that I just crashed in jeans and a leather cut like some savage if I’m not at home. But she is wrong in so many ways. I feel her eyes on me, tracing the tattoos stretching across my back, over my ribs, down my arms.
Let her look.
When I turn toward the small kitchen area, I finally glance at her. She’s still curled in bed, watching me cautiously, her body tense like she’s expecting me to do something—what, exactly, I don’t know.
I arch a brow as I open one of the cabinets, pulling out a pan. "Did you snoop?"
She shakes her head quickly. “Kinda too busy panicking.”
I smirk. "Good girl."
“What are you doing?” She inquires.
I smile, “making breakfast.”
There is a pause, “I’m not hungry.” The words come out barely above a whisper.
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. I grab some eggs, bacon, and bread, setting them on the counter before moving to light the burner. The smell of gas ignites for a second before the low blue flame flickers to life. Her stomach growls again, louder this time.
I chuckle, cracking an egg into the pan. "Starving yourself ain’t gonna help, sweetheart."
She stays silent, her expression unreadable as she watches me cook. She doesn’t trust me. That’s smart. But trust doesn’t matter in this moment. What is important, sorting the threat, eliminating it, and showing her this is where she belongs.
Because right now? She’s mine to keep. I just need her to get on board with this realization.
The smell of bacon and eggs fills the small space, the sizzle of the pan the only sound between us. She’s still watching me, still unsure if she should move, if she should trust the food I’m making.
I don’t rush her.
She’ll eat when she’s ready.
Once the food is plated, I grab a fork, move to the small table, and drop into the chair. I glance at her, arching a brow as I motion to the second plate I set down across from me.
"Come eat, sweetheart," I say, voice easy, like we’re just two people having a casual breakfast together.
Her eyes narrow, suspicion rolling off her in waves, but her stomach betrays her again with another low growl. She huffs, pushing herself up slowly, still hesitant. Alert and still watching me. She moves toward the table, her steps careful, like she’s walking into a trap.