Dangerous Desire

17

My stomach lurches. I desperately search my memory for a clue as to what happened, but the last thing I remember is Killian holding me by the shoulders and demanding I take off my wet dress.

Horrified, I clap a hand over my mouth.

Oh God.

No.

I stumble into the bathroom and flick on the light, recoiling at the sight of myself in the mirror. I look like death. Pale and blotchy, bruised and puffy, dark circles nestling in the hollows under my eyes. My pulse is fast but faint, and I feel light-headed. I recognize the signs of dehydration and stick my head under the faucet and drink until I’m full.

Then I take a scalding-hot shower and scrub my body until my skin is raw.

I won’t think about it. Whatever he did, I won’t think about it—until I have a weapon in my hand.

When I come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me, Killian is sitting in a chair by the desk.

I freeze, my stomach clenching into a fist. He does nothing but sit and gaze at me with an inscrutable look in his eyes. After a long span of silence, I’m finally able to speak. “You said rape was beneath you.”

“I did.”

“And yet . . .”

He quirks a dark eyebrow. “And yet what?”

Though I barely have the strength to stand, my voice shakes with rage. “Don’t make me say it.”

He tilts his head, lets his gaze roam up and down my figure, unabashedly intimate, then meets my eyes. “If I’d had you,” he says quietly, “you’d know.”

Heat burns my cheeks. My legs are trembling, so I cross to the bed and sit on the edge, trying to manage my breathing while Killian watches me with those dark, impenetrable eyes.

“Who’s Naz?”

I jerk my head around and stare at him in shock. “What?”

“Naz. Who is he?”

Despite all the water I drank, my mouth turns desert dry. I swallow, my palms going clammy, and look away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He drums his long fingers slowly on the arm of the chair. “Really? How interesting. Because you cried out his name. Several times.”

I fight a strong urge to make the sign of the cross over my chest. “I don’t know anyone named Naz.”

The drumming stops. “Look at me.”

When I glance over at him, he leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and pins me with his cold stare. “If you lie to me again, I’ll punish you. This time I won’t go easy.”

Astonished, I choke out a broken laugh. “Easy?”

“Aye,” he says, holding my gaze. “It’s your choice. Now tell me.”

I want to be brave. God, how I want to be bold and so scary he backs off and leaves me alone, but the hot prick of tears is stinging my eyes and I’m so damn tired and spent and frankly depressed that I’m fresh out of courage.

So I tell him the truth. I don’t even bother trying to hide the emotion in my voice when I do it. “Naz is . . .” I inhale a hitching breath. “The kindest and most honorable man I’ve ever met.”

“Honorable.”

Killian repeats the word with a curl of his lip, as if it tastes bad in his mouth. The sneer sends a needed burst of strength through me. I sit up straighter, lifting my chin. This piece of trash will not talk s**t about Naz in my presence, no matter what it costs me.

“Yes, honorable,” I say with heat. “You’re probably not familiar with the word, but it basically means the opposite of what you are.”

He contemplates me for a moment with a faint air of disapproval, as if I’m a foolish girl with silly ideas in her head. “Honor is nothing but narcissism dressed up for dinner. It’s code for men who care too much about what other people think.”

There’s a lifetime of weariness behind that statement. Oceans of darkness and suffering color his words, but I refuse to be curious about anything to do with him. “That’s quite eloquent for a cold-blooded, woman-beating bastard. Even if it is wrong.”

“Calling me names isn’t in your best interest, Evalina.”

The proprietary way he says my name gives me chills, but I sit there and pretend it doesn’t, aching for the moment he leaves and I can be alone again. Might as well get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Naz,” I say flatly, bringing us back on topic. “You want to know who he is? He’s the man who gave me back my faith in humanity. He gave me something to live for. He gave me something to die for, too, the most precious thing one person can give another.”

Killian’s gaze turns piercing. “What’s so precious that you’d die for it?”

I answer simply, without so much as a breath of hesitation. “Love.”

He stares at me in eerie stillness, his eyes glinting in the dim, all the lines of his big body simmering with tension. “And here I thought you were bright.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what a monster thinks of my intelligence.”

He laughs as if I’m highly amusing. “You haven’t even glimpsed the monster I really am. If you had, all that pride and stubbornness of yours would be a distant memory. Instead of sitting there with your nose in the air, you’d be cowering like a dog.”

There doesn’t seem to be a proper response to that, so I keep my mouth shut. Anything I’d say might be taken as an invitation.

“So you’ve been unfaithful to your husband?”