No one roamed the hallways as I made my way to the library. Inside, the decadent scent of books and pine cleaner put me at ease, guiding me to a series of shelves in the back of the gigantic library that seemed to hold a lot of history about Beaufort. There were likely floor plans and blueprints among the collection.

  As I perused the books and documents, I sensed a shift in the air. My right ear twitched, and my awareness honed in on the shadow drifting over the bookshelf to my right. The scent of him smacked me in the face.

  Patchouli. Who in the world could that be?

  I clapped the book in my hands shut. “Hi, Blake.”

  “Nica,” he whispered, “so glad you could join us.”

  “That’s not encouraging, you know.” I flipped around and leaned against the counter, drilling him with my eyes—in more ways than one. “You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

  “The same can be said of you.”

  I huffed with irritation and tried not to focus on his eyes. Or his rugged hands. Or the bulge of his jeans. But gods be damned, I was a pregnant woman and my hormones were all over the place.

  And one of the only things on my mind was hunger. All kinds of hunger.

  Blake stepped toward me with a curious countenance. “You seem…different.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “But you do.”

  I looked away. “Stop playing games with me, Blake.”

  “Don’t deflect.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them. Don’t tempt me. Why? Because I wouldn’t be able to resist him?

  I think he knew that. I think he was distinctly aware of how different my energy felt. No one could deny it, not even me. But I was going to do my best to try.

  I met his gaze. “Not another step.”

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll scream.”

  He looked hurt. “Nica, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “It’s not that. It’s…”

  Oh gods, I wanted him. The more I denied it, the worse it became. His pace slowed, but he managed to close the space between us without much effort. He caressed my cheek and smoothed his thumb over my skin, eliminating whatever barrier prevented me from accepting his affection.

  Didn’t he know this was pointless? All the research his mother had done—that he’d done as well—weren’t they aware of my past? That I was just a trained killer? A skilled con artist?

  But none of that seemed to matter when he was touching me. Fate had woven her fingers between us and created an intricate web, one I knew I wouldn’t readily escape. It was evident in the fact that I’d had every opportunity to run—and hadn’t done it.

  His thumb forced my lips to part. Once again, I was caught on a precipice, entangled by the way his words and his body commanded me. No one else had this type of control over me. What made him so special? What gave him the right to jolt me into action?

  And why did it make me want to give him everything?

  Bashfulness fell away as I slurped his thumb into my mouth. A brief flash of surrender appeared in his eyes that turned into cold stone, hardening the icy blue like vicious glaciers floating in the frigid abyss of the ocean. His eyelids weighed heavy as I sucked his thumb deep into my mouth, straining to contain the litany of moans waiting to be released.

  That look was utterly infectious. What else did he like?

  My hand found his bulge, cupping it possessively while I relinquished some of his thumbs. He drew the digit away and then plunged it back into my mouth, groaning as I slid my palm over his growing erection. My knees buckled when I heard the clink of his belt coming undone.

  Thoughts whirled through my head like a hurricane. This man was the father of my child, but I refused to tell him about it, choosing instead to keep him at arm’s length even though I was failing magnificently at that right now. Just how long did I think I could lie to him? It only took three months for most people to start showing a pregnancy bump.

  He would notice sooner with us living in such close proximity.

  He gripped my chin. “Stop thinking.”

  I spat out his thumb. “You can’t read my mind.”

  “Don't sass me, sweet rose.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  His hand slid to my throat and applied the slightest pressure. I yanked open his jeans and procured his cock, challenging him with a swift stroke. The way he bucked into my hand made me flutter with confidence. Two could play this game. He wasn’t the only one who had power here.

  But he might be the only one who could wield it properly.

  The firm pressure of his fingers shifted to a curious grip. He swept his thumb over my main artery, pupils dilating as he observed the way it beat erratically under my flesh. While he wet his lips, I tugged on his cock.

  Could he tell I was a novice?

  He met my gaze, stunning me with just a simple look. And that was how I knew I would get swept away. Every time he looked at me, I would lose control. I was helpless to his charm.

  And somehow, I loved how much he could take control of me.

  I squeezed the head of his cock and whimpered when a bead of arousal dribbled over my finger. While rubbing the fluid over his shaft, he slid his hands beneath my top, plucking my breasts slowly from their hiding places. Cold air flushed my skin with goosebumps as his warm fingers circled my nipples, hardening them to nubs.

  The more he touched me, the more I responded, losing focus on what I was doing. What was I doing, anyway?

  His cock bounced in my palm.

  “What’s wrong, Nica?” he teased huskily while lightly pinching my nipples. “Are you distracted?”

  I mewled as arousal soaked my slit.

  A devilish grin grew over his lips, digging into his cheeks. It made him look crazy—or absolutely nuts with desire. I wasn’t sure which.

  Shivers raced down my spine as his eyes drifted south. I knew what he was thinking. It was on my mind, too. The pheromones in the air couldn’t possibly lie. Nothing could stop the way we were racing toward each other.

  And our collision would blast us to pieces if we weren’t careful.

  Who cares? I thought as I struggled to take off my jeans. I want him so badly.

  Clothes flew in every direction. He cupped my bottom and hoisted me up, planting me on the counter with a heavy thump. Books and papers sprawled to the ground as he nestled between my legs. His cock parted my slit, the head colliding with my clit and jolting my core.

  A shuddering moan turned into a ragged scrambling for words. Hushed whispers and soft sighs filled the space between us as he dipped the head of his cock into my entrance. He tilted my chin and forced me to look up at him as he sank inside me. Those blue orbs burned furiously, daring me to look away.

  Would I?

  Could I?

  Heat rushed to my center as his arms swarmed my back. One slow thrust turned into another, pressure mounting in seconds as he split me open. A small pinch echoed in my core, relenting as he pumped into me, fervent thrusts breaking away whatever self-consciousness I had about my performance.

  I didn’t need to worry about things like that. He was in control. I could follow his lead.

  And I would follow him just about anywhere.

  An alarm wailed in the back of my mind. That was ridiculous. Why would I follow him when all I wanted to do was escape? Get out of Beaufort and get rid of whatever was growing inside me. That was the plan. That was my only option.

  He nuzzled my main artery, teasing it with a light nip. The whimper he drew from me alerted my senses, putting me on the very edge of release. I clutched his shoulder. I arched into him. I tangled my fingers into his hair.

  And then, I snapped.

  My eyes disappeared as my body shuddered violently. His thrusts broke me, sending a tsunami of pleasure rolling through my body. It wasn’t over until it was over. And even then, I was overwhelmed by the aftershocks gripping me.

  A mural of angels on the ceiling caught my attention. Blake stroked my stomach and my thighs, lips carving a path in every direction possible. He paused at my breast, exhaling over my nipple. It stood at attention immediately.

  His breath hitched. “We should get you back to your suite.”

  I frowned. “What? Why?”

  “I have a meeting with my security team soon,” he replied as he sat up. “Let’s get you dressed.”

  Anxiety gathered in my gut. All my clothes were on the floor—every single one of them. My eyes fluttered to Blake, who seemed more drunkenly content than anything. While sliding my hand innocently over my scar, I slid from the counter and watched him dress me.

  Every careful motion eased my tension. By the time he was done, I wanted him again, my slit throbbing just to feel his fingers or his tongue or his cock. He traced my jaw, planted a light kiss on my lips, and nodded toward the door. That silent instruction was all I needed from him.

  And if that was all I needed, then maybe I could do this. Maybe I could stay with him, have his child, be his mate. Maybe he could protect me.

  It was just a matter of telling him the truth.

  Chapter 17 - Blake

  High-definition monitors lined the wall above the desk. The chair beneath me barely made a sound as I rolled toward a computer, shaking the mouse to reveal the new camera angles on the screen. One pointed at a second-floor veranda and the other focused on the door of a suite in the west wing.

  The door opened and then shut immediately. Veronica appeared on the screen. Her eyes shifted across the hallway with a practiced suspicion, shoulders tensed up and knuckles whitened from gripping her phone. My word was solid—I hadn’t violated her privacy by placing cameras in her room.

  But I was tempted to do it now.

  “Are you sure it was the right place?” Jermaine asked. He swiveled to face me, his expression dark and reflective. “It could have been a coincidence.”

  I flattened my lips into a line. It was hard to talk about this. Yet it was more important than anything. “I saw it, Jermaine. The scar was in the right place. It looked recent.”

  “If that’s true, then I need to have Imelda make me a few weapons like that.”

  “Ask Regina. She’s the one who did the enchantment.”

  He frowned, lines digging into the youthful features that typically held a professional expression. “I don’t trust witches.”

  “Yet you want an enchanted dagger.”

  “Hey, this isn’t about me. This is about your mate trying to kill you.”

  I forcibly exhaled. “She’s not my mate. We haven’t performed the ritual.”

  “But she’s supposed to be.”

  He was right. This was a deeply challenging issue that I knew didn’t have a clear answer.

  Which was why I needed Jermaine. “What do you think?”

  His eyebrows popped into his hairline. “About what specifically?”

  “All of it.”

  “It’s a lot to handle.”

  I nodded.

  He sighed while scooting next to me, taking control of the mouse. He flipped through a few cameras that captured Veronica’s movements. She was heading toward the library again. She liked spending time there.

  “She doesn’t look like an assassin,” he said. “But that’s probably what they were counting on.”

  “Who?”

  He shrugged. “Raymond Gilbert is bloodthirsty. He probably just wants to take you down so he can claim your pack for himself.”

  “But why? He doesn’t have any ties to this pack other than business.”

  “I suppose we could have tortured the guy who tried to kill you.”

  My stomach flipped. “We didn’t know he was from the Gilbert Pack.”

  “You gave clear orders, Blake. You wanted him dead.”

  “That’s pack rules. My father would have done it, just like his father.”

  He nodded. “I understand. I’m not questioning your decision.”

  “I should have waited. I should have tried to get the whole picture.” I slammed my fist into the desk. “If my mother hadn’t pressured me, then I would have been able to discover all this before the trials began.”

  “Your mother isn’t to blame.”

  I snarled while launching from the chair. The security room was large but not big enough to contain my anger and disappointment. About a thousand different emotions were slashing me to pieces. I wasn’t sure which one of them would win.

  Anger seemed the most persistent.

  “She shouldn’t have pushed me,” I said through gritted teeth. “I should have challenged her. I should have pushed back.”

  My eyes found Veronica without even knowing which screen she would be on. The library—that was the one on the far right.

  “She looks so pretty when she’s concentrating.”

  Jermaine folded his hands on his lap. “Want me to leave you alone?”

  “No, I need your feedback on what to do.”

  “I don’t know how much I can help, Blake. This is your decision.”

  I growled. “And you’re my best friend.”

  He sighed while scrubbing his face. Five years had been added to his features in a matter of minutes. That was what this job did to him. How much more pressure could he handle? It wasn’t like we were teenagers trying to Goonies our way out of a secret cave system anymore.

  This was real life. This was real danger.

  I stroked my scalp thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. I’m freaking out.”

  “I understand.”

  “I know. It’s just…” I gestured to the screen. “What’s she looking at? Can you zoom in?”

  He nodded and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. Within seconds, we had a clear view of the documents in her hands. Jermaine and I shared a sigh.

  “Blueprints,” we said.

  I folded my arms and stared at the other books nearby—mostly history and maps of the surrounding area.

  “She’s trying to find a way out,” I said. “Do you think she’ll make another attempt?”

  “That depends.”

  I frowned. “On what?”

  “On her motives, Blake.”

  “I can’t tell what she’s thinking.”

  That was a bold lie and I knew it. Her energy told me exactly what she was thinking. Every time we encountered each other, she resisted my influence and invited it at the same time. As dizzying as it was, it enticed me. It made me want to control her. It made me want to take care of her.

  I scratched my cheek while bowing forward. “I thought you would kill her on the spot when I told you.”

  “If that’s the case, then why did you tell me?”

  “Because I trust you, Jermaine.”

  His chocolate eyes met my gaze and held it for a long time. A quiet understanding formed between us that spoke of years spent exploring local beaches, building model train sets, and wrestling in the mud. Just a few seconds put us on the same page.

  Unlike my connection with Veronica.

  “She’s confusing,” I told him. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do you love her?”

  The question smacked me harder than an offended nun who caught me cursing in a church. What did love have to do with it? I knew I cared about her, but I couldn’t fathom much more than that. All I could do was feel.

  I closed my eyes. “Maybe.”

  “I can work with what you're telling me, but I have to admit, Blake, this is a huge security issue.”

  “I know.”

  He inhaled sharply. “It’s a risk to everyone, including you.”

  “I know, Jermaine.”

  “If you don’t love her, I can—”

  I scowled. “I know.”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just saying.”

  “I need your advice, okay? That’s all I’m asking. Just tell me what to do.”

  “I’ve never seen you like this. You must really care about her.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? The closer I got to Veronica, the more I wanted her in my life, regardless of how much she’d pushed me away. Whatever I thought I knew about my feelings was rust at this point—dried rust that caked my joints and made it impossible to move.

  If this was love, then what was the point of the mate bond?

  And if she was my mate, then how the hell was she supposed to protect me from being killed?

  “Watch her closely,” I instructed. “Report her movements back to me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I shook my head as I headed for the exit. “I have no idea.”

  ***

  The last rays of sun flickered over the edge of the field while I sipped a whiskey sour on the porch. Trees rose in the distance, swaying with a breeze that brought humid air tinted with salt. My nostrils flared as I turned to observe the dining hall window. Veronica would be in there soon. I would have to face her, knowing that she was the one who had tried to kill me.

  How could I have been so wrong? At the time of the attack, I’d thought it was a man assaulting me. The way she moved, the way she sliced that weapon through the air, gave me the impression of a man who had spent his entire life training for that moment.

  Is that what Raymond did? My fingers tightened around the Steuben glass. Did he tear her from her family just to turn her into a vicious killer?

  Livid with the idea and trembling with irritation, I returned to the rear den where I set the Steuben aside for the housekeeper to grab. Walking to the dining hall seemed to be my only other option, even though I desperately wanted to hide in the west wing on the third floor.

  Maybe lifting weights would take my mind off everything. There was enough whiskey in my system to hide the strain it would cause my muscles. Then I could shift and take a long run through the woods that led toward the beach. It would clear my mind enough to think.

  But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to think about anything right now.

 

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