Текст книги "Denial"

Автор книги: Lisa Renee Jones

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

twenty-one

Kayden and I enter the castle without speaking, sexual tension crackling between us, and he is right. I need to come down from the adrenaline rush. I need the escape I know he can give me and that he claims sex can deliver. Sex with him. And it’s not just about the escape. It’s about honesty and choice, about the freedom for him to be him and me to be whatever I feel I need to be right here and now with him. We climb the stairs side by side and he doesn’t touch me. I know it’s to drive anticipation, a way to claim control, and I’d rather he have it than I have this firestorm of emotions inside. With every step we take, the promise of an experience that will be dark, erotic, and all-consuming echoes through me.

My pulse races as we approach the door to his bedroom, our bedroom, and Kayden is at my back, reaching around me to open it, and still he does not touch me. I cross the threshold and he is quick to follow, a wolf at my back, and I am most definitely his willing prey. I whirl around to face him, and he kicks the door shut. “Get naked,” he orders, tearing his shirt over his head, giving me a wicked, hot view of taut skin over lean, hard muscle.

I wet my lips and turn away, walking to the rug in front of the fireplace as it flickers to life. There is no hesitation in me as I undress, and oh how I feel the heat of his stare, a heavy caress that might as well be his tongue for the way it licks every intimate part of me. I toss away my bra and step out of my panties, but when I’m about to face him again, his hand comes down on my back.

“On your knees,” he commands, his voice low, sultry in its demand, but the order stirs a memory I try to reject. On my knees. A tight knot forms in my chest as my mind takes me back to that night in the club. To the woman tied up. To me tied up and the punishment, and the pain, that followed. But this is not then or him. This is Kayden. This is a man I think I’m falling in love with, who I trust. He won’t hurt me. There is no question of this in my mind or heart, and it infuriates me that the monster of my past has invaded this night.

Rebelling against my own weakness, I lower myself to my knees, but Kayden doesn’t follow. Seconds tick by, and I listen for every sound that does not come, waiting for a touch I desperately crave, goose bumps rising on my skin that have nothing to do with being cold, and everything to do with how much I want Kayden. It is amazing to me how alive my nerve endings are, how my nipples tighten and my sex clenches, when he has done nothing but issue a command. That is the power of this man over me, but there is no fear. There is only arousal. And the promise of pleasure.

Finally, though, he kneels in front of me, naked, magnificently male, his thick shaft at my hip. There is power in knowing I arouse him, and that no matter what control I give him, it is never all his.

His finger slides under my chin, that one touch shivering through me and tightening my nipples, his gorgeous, pale blue eyes glinting with what manages to be lust and tenderness, when I never knew two such things could coexist. “The things I want to do to you are many, and not enough. But tonight, I have only one purpose. One goal. I want you to conquer a fear tonight.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Not of me, but this isn’t about me, now, is it? It’s about a past you might not fully realize, but it affects you and us.”

“You’re talking about him—and he doesn’t belong here with us.”

“He, like Elizabeth, has to be here, because those pieces of us we can’t escape. We shouldn’t try. They’re part of who we are, separately and together. We can’t pretend the things they make us feel don’t impact who we are.”

As much as I wish to reject this idea, Kayden is right, and he is only trying to make me, and us, stronger. “What are you suggesting?”

“I have no intention of destroying us, Ella. Just the opposite. I want to give you a memory of being tied up that isn’t about punishment, but trust and pleasure. I want to bind your wrists.” He holds up a black silk sash. “This is your choice, though. Say yes or say no. It changes nothing and it does not mean we won’t try again later. There is no pressure. This isn’t our only night together.”

My chest is tight with the magnitude of this moment and the mix of nerves, arousal, and tenderness this man stirs in me. “Yes is my answer,” I whisper, but as sure as I am as I issue my reply, a dark memory tears at the back of my mind, words finding my lips that I did not even know existed. “But I will never call you Master.”

Surprise registers on his handsome face, his arm circling my waist, molding me close to him, that silk sash dangling at my hip, teasing my skin. “How do you even know that word?”

The question is a soft demand I can’t really answer. “It just came to me. I think . . . I know he made me call him that.”

“Made you? I’ve played around in that world, Ella, and you don’t make someone call you Master. It’s a choice. The submissive is ultimately in control, and I have no interest in your being my submissive. Because I like control during sex doesn’t make me your Master. You call me Kayden, or asshole; I don’t care. I care about your pleasure and your safety.” His tone is vehement, anger barely contained in its depths, and I can feel the thunder of his heart beneath my palm where my hand has settled. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes. And it matters to me in ways I’m not sure I even understand yet. I don’t want to say no to you, Kayden.”

“But you can. Even after you say yes.” He cups my face and repeats those words. “Even after you say yes.”

“I know.”

“Now your promise.”

“I promise.”

He kisses me, a deep caress of his tongue against mine that entices, seduces, but I taste the gentleness in him, the worry, that places him, and us, so far from his version of “dirty” I am not sure we can find it again. “Don’t you dare coddle me,” I demand, shoving against his chest and grabbing the silk sash he’s allowed to fall to the floor. “Tie me up.”

“Not tonight.”

“Yes, damn it. Tonight. You promised me a new memory, and I want it. Don’t take that from me.”

“Ella—”

“I need to face my fears. I need to know he doesn’t win.”

His expression tightens, his eyes probing mine, searching. I hold out my wrists. “Trust,” I say. “I’m giving it to you. Take it.”

“I want far more trust than I’m sure you should give me.”

“What does that mean?”

His chest expands, thick lashes lowering, forming dark circles on his cheeks, my eyes lingering there a moment, and I think . . . I think the past he’s talked about being a part of us has found its place in this moment, and for him that is guilt, and mistrust of himself.

“I trust you,” I whisper, holding out my hands.

He doesn’t look at me but he shackles my wrists, easily holding them with one hand while he twines the silk around them with the other. And when his gaze finally collides with mine, the man I want and need is back within reach, darker flecks of blue heating the pale blue of his stare. “It’s loose enough that you can slide out of it if you absolutely want to. Next time it won’t be.”

The way he says ‘next time it won’t be’ sends an erotic thrill down my spine. I don’t know why or how it is possible, but being at Kayden Wilkens’s mercy is sexy and exciting, not terrifying. Not about fear and degradation. “Understand?” he asks, and it’s more than a question. It’s a clear opportunity for me to use the word no he has stressed is mine to own and control.

“Yes,” I say, choosing the word to send a message. I’m making my choice, and trusting him is that choice.

“Be clear, Ella. I’m going to push tonight. Not the way I’m capable of pushing you, but you won’t argue with me on that.” He tightens his grip around my hands. “You will not win that war. Now you say ‘yes.’ ”

“Yes,” I whisper, the absoluteness in him too intense to fight.

“That time will come, and I’m not ready yet to find out how you’ll react. Not because of some man in your past. Because of me. Because right now, I don’t deserve that kind of trust.”

“Kayden—”

He kisses me, fingers twining roughly, erotically in my hair, and I taste the demons of his past, the inner war he battles but will not fully allow me to fight with him. I lean into him, trying to feel him close, but he is quick to deny me that touch, and almost as if he is punishing me for trying, he tears his mouth from mine, leaving me panting for the more that is now out of reach.

He moves behind me, the thick ridge of his erection nestling between my thighs, pressing into the silky wet heat of my sex, teasing me with how easily he could be inside me. And I want him inside me. His hands caress up and down my sides, leaving me cold where he is not touching and hot where he is. I arch into him, my breasts thrusting in the air, a silent plea for his hands, but I am granted only a side brush, a light tease of fingers on my pebbled nipples. A soft brush of fingers on my clit never fully realized.

“Kayden,” I whisper, squeezing my thighs around his shaft, the need for everything when he gives me so little pure torture I can do nothing to resolve.

“Lean forward,” he urges, a command in his voice. “Elbows on the rug.” He doesn’t give me time to digest the order, pressing me forward, hand flattening on my back, the position thrusting my backside into the air, leaving me vulnerable and exposed, but there is no time to think of what might happen. He cups my backside, caressing me over and over, and his words play in my mind. I will tease you. Bite you. Spank you. As if he is in my head, his palm lifts and comes back down with a fast smack that is not painful, but shocking, and has me yelping and trying to sit up. But that hand of his is back on my spine, holding me down.

“Trust,” he says. “Do I have it or not?”

I bite my bottom lip, willing my heart rate to calm. He hasn’t hurt me. Not even close, and I whisper, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He smacks the other cheek. Not a spanking. No pain. Just a slight sting that delivers an erotic thrill and the promise of so much more, if not now, soon. Too soon. Not soon enough. My sex clenches fiercely and I want the hidden part of him he still denies, but I know he will not give it to me tonight. He will not rush this and as much as I want to change that, there is safety, there is trust I can give him, in knowing he is being cautious with me.

His hands drag up and down my sides, and then finally, his body curves around mine, and he is hot and hard between my thighs, sliding the head of his cock along the slick line of my sex. “I need—”

“I know what you need,” he promises, but he does not give it to me. He slides his shaft back and forth, the nerve endings he is touching lighting up like the fire burning in front of me. I sink lower into the rug, weaker with need, and finally, finally, he presses into me, driving deep and fast, his cock finding the farthest part of me and staying there. He isn’t moving, and I am panting to the point I can barely breathe when finally he pulls back and thrusts hard into me. And oh God, that one hard pump and already I am on the edge of orgasm. Another thrust and I push against him, his only reply his hand bracing my hips, his cock nudging left, right, deeper, before he starts a fast, hard pumping rhythm. I lose time. I lose the room. The rug. The silk at my hands. I climb that peak of pleasure and tip over far too fast, all but collapsing as my body clenches around him. His hand flattens on my belly, holding me up, and then he is shaking, shattering with me, the deep, guttural sound he makes a sexy, erotic charge that ripples through me.

I shut my eyes, riding his pleasure with him, sighing with the way he slowly relaxes against me, his fingers softening at my hips, and then he folds himself around me, holding me in the most intimate of ways. “You okay?” he murmurs near my ear.

My lips curve at what is becoming our little question to each other. “Yes. Are you okay?”

He laughs, low and sexy. I really love his laugh. I think I can really love this man. “You’re naked,” he says. “Of course I’m okay. Let me get rid of this condom and I’ll untie you.”

He pulls out of me and I gasp, which earns me another one of those sexy laughs. “The feeling’s mutual,” he says of my reaction.

A smile on my lips, I sit up, my eyes lifting to the fireplace, and I don’t know why, but I see the past in those flames. I flash back to the club. I am there, living it again, afraid. So afraid.

He shoves me to my knees and I try to get up, but he holds me while the woman in leather ties me up, stretching one arm to the side and roping it, then the other. I fight. I fight as hard as I can but he, he holds me down and then I am bound, a prisoner, and he moves away. I hear her speak to him. “How badly do you want her bruised?”

He squats in front of me, caressing my lips, and I try to bite him. Fury radiates off him and he stands. “Don’t leave scars.”

I blink the fireplace back into view. “Kayden! Kayden!” I try to free my hands, but I’m shaking so hard I can’t get them free. “Untie me. Untie me now! Please! Now!”

Kayden kneels in front of me, ripping away the silk in a flash. “Sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He cups my face. “I would never—”

I grab his arms. “It’s not you. We . . . we are good. He . . . he tied me up. He had me whipped. That’s what woke me up yesterday, but I didn’t want to tell you, and—”

“He fucking beat you? Tell me it’s Niccolo and I will go there, beat him, and kill him, tonight.”

“I still don’t know. And you don’t get to beat him and kill him—I do. Do you hear me? I do! And now I’ve made it so you can’t be you with me. Tie me back up. Tie me back up now.”

He takes us down on the rug, pulling me close, his legs twined with mine. “I’m not tying you back up.”

“Kayden—”

“No.” His tone is absolute. “Fuck, Ella. I teased you with a possible spanking, and now you tell me he beat you? I should never have let this happen tonight, when you just remembered your father’s death.”

“I’m right. You’re going to be afraid with me.”

“No. I’m not, but the timing of this was wrong.” He strokes my hair behind my ear, his voice softening. “We will get by this and we will be okay together. I promise you.” He molds me to him, into the cocoon of his body. “Tell me about dancing.”

I blink at the sudden change of topic. “Dancing?”

“Yes. I want to hear about dancing. I want to know about what you love. Who you are. What you want from life.”

My fingers tease a loose silky strand of his light brown hair, tears prickling my eyes. “You’re amazing, Kayden Wilkens.”

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.” He kisses my knuckles. “Now. Tell me. You danced. You dance.”

Tension uncurls inside me, replaced by an image of my mother smiling as she watches me dance, both of us in ballet slippers, a piece of the past coming back to me. “My mom was a dance teacher, and I took it seriously enough to audition for either a big production or an elite school. I think it was a school. It was important to me and to her. Her gift to me was dance. My father’s was the ability to protect myself. I’m eager to see if I remember dancing as well as I remember shooting a gun.”

“A woman who can dance and shoot. Sexy, sweetheart.”

I smile. “Let’s wait and see if I can actually dance.”

“We both know you can.” He lifts up on one elbow. “The school thing is interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“There can’t be that many elite dance schools.”

Hope rises inside me. “You think you can find me that way?”

“It’s a long shot, but everything is worth trying.” He stands and takes me with him.

“What are we doing?”

“I want to show you something.” He snatches his shirt and hands it to me. “Put that on, and socks or slippers. The castle floors are cold.”

I pull it over my head and he drags on his jeans commando style, not bothering to zip them. I stuff my feet in my slippers. “Where are we going?”

He smiles and shakes his head, a long lock of light brown hair teasing his forehead. “It’s a surprise.” He motions me to the door and holds it open, and I follow him into the hallway, shivering with the cold, deciding I should have bought a robe today. Kayden hits a button on the wall and a panel opens. I grin. “I love this castle.”

“I’m glad you do.” He waves me forward and I step inside a small foyer to find a path with heavy stone steps wide enough for both of us. Kayden steps to my side and we start the climb that halfway up forks left, right, or straight.

“Straight up,” he says, but I am curious about every direction.

“I’m exploring tomorrow. That’s all there is to it.”

“After the doctor. I meant to tell you. Nathan called while you were in the lingerie store. He got you an appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

“For Giada, too?”

“Oh, yeah. Her too. The idea of her pregnant was enough to get my attention.”

I laugh, and it hits me that it’s truly a miracle I can laugh after all that has happened today, and it’s because of Kayden. I can only hope I do the same for him. Finally, at the top of the stairs, we enter an incredible, well-equipped gym with moonlight peeking through a giant, arched floor-to-ceiling window. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Are you kidding? One mention of the gym and Marabella will be feeding you gallons of ice cream. She’s convinced you’re too skinny.”

“She just wants an excuse to feed us all,” I say as he walks to the far right wall and punches a button; with no surprise at this point, it slides open and reveals a secret room. He waves me forward, and ever so curious, I enter to find a long, empty rectangular room with hardwood floors. “What is this room?”

He leans on the door frame. “Your new dance studio, if you want it to be.”

A dance studio. The idea hits a nerve, a piece of my past I don’t know but feel. I hug him, tilting my chin up to look at him. “This is the sweetest thing ever.”

“Something no one else would ever call me.” He wraps an arm around my waist, sealing us together, one hand cupping my face. “And he, whoever he is, will not think I’m sweet when I am done with him. That absolutely is a promise.”

The next morning, Kayden has some sort of lead on Enzo. He doesn’t seem eager to talk about it, but the result is him calling a meeting with a group of local Hunters to be held in his “War Room” in the central tower. In light of this event, he lines up Nathan to escort Giada and me to the doctor, despite my insisting we can handle it on our own. I’m not sure if that means I’m less safe than he’s claimed or if he’s just being his protective self, both of which are easy to believe.

Whatever the case, Giada and I meet in the main foyer and laugh as we come face to face in almost the same outfit of skinny black jeans, black sweaters, and boots. The only difference is her black leather coat and my trench coat.

“Twinkies,” she claims, and we exit the castle to find Nathan’s black Mercedes waiting on us. Even his car screams Mr. GQ Doctor and I relax a little. If Kayden were really worried about my safety, he’d have sent someone else with us.

Nathan steps out of the car and motions us forward, his brown hair fluttering in a cold breeze. “He’s so damn sexy,” Giada murmurs. “I get the front seat.”

“He’s at least fourteen years older than you,” I remind her.

“And a doctor. That’s hot.” She dashes down the stairs and manages to be inside the car before I even reach the vehicle.

Nathan lingers where he is, speaking to me over the hood of the car. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“That call I got last night did not sound fine. We need to talk about that when we get a moment alone.”

I give him a quick nod and climb into the backseat, rethinking my assessment of Nathan as our escort. Kayden’s worried all right, but not about strangers attacking us. It’s about the way my past is attacking me, and us. “How far is the doctor’s office from here?”

“Only about ten minutes,” Nathan says, maneuvering us onto the narrow roadway, and since I really don’t want to spend the ride fearing for my life, I sink low in the seat.

Giada has no such issues, chatting away with Nathan. He is courteous but reserved, and I’d be disappointed in him otherwise. He also keeps eyeing his mirror, and there’s that hint of hardness beneath his surface I’d seen the day in the store. He’s The Undergound’s doctor, and something tells me he’s as lethal as he is a healer.

Once we’re at the doctor’s office, Giada and I are taken into exam rooms at the same time, and my checkup is pretty painless. The result is a birth control injection I’ll have to repeat every three months. When I’m done I join Nathan back in the lobby, sitting next to him.

“You want to tell me about yesterday?” he asks.

“Amnesia is hell. When I remember things that are painful, it’s like I’m experiencing them all over again. Instead of having years of healing behind me, the process starts all over again.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“I am, but I wake up to some pretty crappy memories sometimes.”

“I can give you something to knock you out.”

“As much as I appreciate that, there are far more reasons to remember than to forget, and drugs are only going to delay the process. And right now it seems the memories are starting to really flow.”

“That’s a good thing.”

We’re silent for a little while, and I finally broach a subject I’ve been worrying about. “How often are you needed by The Underground?”

He gives me a direct look. “That’s not your real question. What do you really want to know?”

“How often do they get hurt?”

“You’re worried about Kayden.”

“How can I not be? You told me he takes the dangerous jobs.”

“You need to have this conversation with Kayden.”

“You can’t give me an answer I like, so you aren’t going to give me one at all.”

“Talk to Kayden.”

His phone beeps with a text and he pulls it from his pocket, glancing at the screen with a frown. “How about checking on Giada? Kayden wants me in the meeting he’s holding after all, and I have a patient who was just admitted into the hospital. Not a good combination.”

I want to ask for details, but he’s already standing and stepping into the hallway, probably to make a call.

Fortunately, Giada comes into the lobby just then, looking irritated. “We need to hurry back. Adriel’s in a pissy mood for me to get back and run the store.”

So Kayden wants Adriel in the meeting, too. I don’t say that to Giada, who believes he’s retired from hunting. Whatever the case, I’m officially worried.

I try to call Kayden but he doesn’t answer, and the minute the car halts in front of the castle, I’m out of the door and darting for the steps. I’m just keying in the code when the door opens and Kayden appears. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“Walk with me upstairs and we’ll talk.”

“You’re scaring me,” I say as we hurry through the open door to our tower and up the stairs.

“Enzo’s being held captive,” he explains. “I have to free him.”

“Who has him?” I ask as we reach the main level.

“The cartel he tried to steal from.”

“Oh God,” I murmur, following him down the hallway to our room. “Tell me no.”

He opens the bedroom door. “I wish I could.” He heads inside and makes a beeline for the security room.

I follow and once I’m in the doorway, I ask, “How can I help?”

“Stay here until I get back, so I know you’re safe. I can’t worry about my men and you, too.” He holds out the chair for me. “Sit down; I need to show you some things.”

I do as he says and he kneels beside me. “A quick lesson.” He punches a key and the visual on the security feed changes. “Every time you punch it, you alter the location of the view. You can see every single part of the castle if you need to.” He indicates yet another key. “That turns on the volume. The only places you can’t see and hear are the private bedrooms and the War Room. Got it?”

“Yes. Got it.”

“Good.” He stands and walks to the wall in one corner and hits a button. A panel rotates and displays a selection of guns, two of which he attaches to various parts of his body, and a sick feeling forms in my belly.

He turns to face me and he must read the terror I feel for him, because he kneels in front of me again. “I told you I walk the line of legal and illegal. You don’t deal with a cartel without crossing lines. Not even the FBI and CIA manage that, I promise you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. But I will do whatever is necessary to save my men, just like I will for you.”

I cup his cheek. “I know. I can handle this.”

He draws my hand in his. “If you call, I’ll answer, so don’t call unless it’s an emergency. Matteo is staying here in the War Room as field support and in case you need him. We won’t make a move to retrieve Enzo until nightfall, so don’t worry when I’m not back until late.” He pushes to his feet and takes me with him. “I’ll text you if I can to check in, but I can’t promise.” He leans in and kisses me. “I’m crazy about you. You know that, right?”

I grab his shirt, balling my fingers around the cotton. “Prove it and come back safe.”

He gives me a nod—no promise, no words—and I move to the doorway to watch him stride across the bedroom and disappear. I inhale and face the panel of guns, and turn away. I can’t think about guns and death right now. I need to do something to stay busy. I cross to the bathroom, place my purse on the vanity, then shrug out of my coat, which I toss on the edge of the tub.

I stare at myself in the mirror a minute, starting to get used to this me. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but if it involves Kayden, I vote good. My mind flickers back to those last happy moments with my mother, and I dig my phone out of my purse and dial Marabella.

“Ella,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I was just wondering if you wanted to come bake chocolate chip cookies with me.”

“I would love to bake cookies with you. I’ll run to the corner store and be in the kitchen in half an hour.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” I set my phone down and head into the closet, where I exchange my boots for flats, throw on a hoodie, and head to the kitchen. There I make coffee and stand at the window Kayden favors, staring at the amazing view of a church with high steeples and stunning architecture.

Fifteen minutes later Marabella breezes into the kitchen, and my mood lightens with her infectious happiness. I help her bake, and we both decide it’s not my thing, though we get some good laughs at my efforts. Baking complete, we settle at the table and I tell her what I remember about my mother, and listen to her stories of Kevin, Kayden, and her husband.

Eventually though, our tongues are tired, the sun has set, and she sighs and stands. “I’m tired, honey. I need to rest. Are you okay here alone?”

“I am. Thank you for the cookies and the great conversation.”

It’s then that she says what has been in the air but not discussed. “This is his life. He needs you. I see it in his eyes, but be sure you can handle this before you do something like fall in love with him.”

Love. It’s a big word, and it’s not the first time I’ve wondered if that is where I’m headed with Kayden. “I can handle it. I just might need cookies and talk sessions here or there.”

She smiles her approval. “Cookies and conversations I can do.” She waves, and just like Kayden, she is gone, and I’m alone inside the tower.

I sit there and don’t move for quite some time. Just blank. No memories. No real thoughts. I think I am blocking it all out. Oh, how my mind likes to protect me and then turn around and destroy me.

An idea hits me and I stand, rushing to the bedroom closet, where I dig out my ballet slippers. Excited to give them a try, I hurry back to the hallway and open the panel leading to the gym. I all but run until I hit the fork in the path again and stop dead in my tracks, curiosity killing me. I have lots of time to kill, and exploring would be fun. So, hmmmm. Which way to go?

I choose left, and a short hallway leads me to a door. I open it and find an office with a giant, curved blond wood desk in the center, a fancy etched design in the wood, with two tan leather chairs, and bookshelves framing it. I inhale and smile; the sweet, spicy scent of Kayden is everywhere. I’m definitely staying a while. I move forward, rounding the desk to sit down, placing my slippers on the shiny surface, trailing my hands over the smooth wood and admiring the knobs that are in the shape of hawks. “The Hawk,” I whisper. “Kayden is The Hawk. He has to protect his people.”

I rest my elbows on the leather desk pad, thinking of what that kind of responsibility must feel like, my eyes catching on a file sticking out that reads Gallo. Frowning, I grab it and flip it open to find every piece of Gallo’s life since childhood inside. It’s very personal, and I feel like I’m invading his privacy by reading it. I shut it and set it aside. Why would Kayden have this? Unless . . . he’s planning something involving Gallo? Maybe he just wants to know the man who’s clearly out to get him. That, I can see for sure.

Then I see another file, one that reads Ella on the front. My breath hitches and a sense of foreboding washes over me that I don’t understand. Of course he has a file on me. He’s trying to figure out who I am.

Still, I have to inhale a calming breath, air trickling from my lips as I open it. My heart begins to race, charging so fast, it feels like it might explode from my chest. There’s only one thing in the file: a snapshot of the butterfly necklace.

Not a drawing. An actual photo.

I only just told him about the necklace, and why would he have Tyler draw it, if he knew what it looked like?

Kayden knew about the necklace but didn’t tell me.

I tell myself there’s a good reason, but I can’t think of what that can be.

I stand up, barely able to breathe. I need air. I need space. I run out of the room and down the stairs, and don’t stop until my purse is over my shoulder. I leave my coat behind, needing the realness of the cold. I need to decide whether I talk to Kayden about this or dig for answers on my own. I’m also reminded that he felt familiar from day one. Why? Why? And damn it, I do not want to doubt the one person I have trusted, the man I feel so connected to.