I kind of hate that thing. I feel like it knows what I’m thinking, all the things I’d like to do to its sweet Anna.
Things I daresay she’s not ready for.
The hilt doesn’t seem to give a shite that I love her. It only sees that I’m a greedy bastard who wants every bit of Anna for myself. I want to savor each moment she looks at me and sees past the lust in my eyes—sees the boy I once was, and the man who now desperately needs her.
I close my eyes and try to rest, but her hand is quite distracting. I lift it to my chest instead. In her sleep she prods her nails into my skin and I think it’s the sexiest and most adorable thing I’ve ever experienced. Then again, I’d thought the same thing when she was cooking earlier. And when my mouth was on her thigh, her hands pulling at my hair. And again when she licked brownie batter. Let’s backtrack to the bit about her thigh . . .
Don’t think about that, mate.
Don’t think about the scent of warm pears that surrounded you like cognac.
Don’t think about the silk of her skin against your tongue, how close you were to that place of hers where nobody else has been.
Don’t think about the sounds of her moans, how you were just about to blow her ever-loving mind, or how you couldn’t wait to catch her when her knees buckled as her whole body trembled with pleasure.
Definitely do not think of that.
I shove the heel of my hand against my eye and will away the images.
Damned hilt.
No, I’m not perfect when I’m with Anna. I still experience thoughts about every filthy, sexy thing imaginable. That’s everyday life for me. But she makes me wonder what it would be like to make love. She makes me want to take my time with every millimeter of her body in the most maddening way until she’s begging for more.
I let out a quiet sigh.
She makes me want more from life. Things I’m not bloody allowed to want. Things I can never give her. I conceded tonight to be her boyfriend. Okay, to be honest, it was my idea because it’s the one thing I can give her—my heart and my loyalty. I asked if we could be together, and the way she lit up about attaching that label to our relationship made me both joyful and sad, because she deserves more.
I took her to band practice with me tonight, which was awesome, aside from that awkward moment when Anna Malone got jealous and stormed out. Otherwise, it felt amazing to be out with Anna, sharing my life with her. But she deserves a boyfriend who can openly claim her on a daily basis, not just when the demons are away. And that is why fury will always live inside me. Anna might be too good, too measured, to be angry about our circumstances, but I’m not.
I crack open an eye and glare at the hilt for good measure. Then I hold my girl closer, glad we took this chance to be together. I won’t think about tomorrow yet.
When I finally let myself relax again, sleep almost immediately pulls me under.
There is pure terror in Anna’s eyes when her father rings at the arse-crack of dawn. I don’t know if she’s more afraid that Belial’s sending me on a mission with Kope or that he’s sending me on a mission at all. One of our Neph allies, the daughter of Duke Sonellion, has been thrown in prison for lewd conduct. It’s not looking good for Zania. In the conservative Middle Eastern town where she’s being held, she’s likely to be publicly beaten and executed, or sold into slavery. Her father refuses to save her since she’s given in to her alcohol addiction and seems to be of no further use to his cause.
I want to wipe the fear from Anna’s eyes, but I can’t make promises. I can’t promise I won’t punch Kope when I see him. Nor can I promise we’ll be safe in Syria. I won’t lie to Anna, and she’s no fool. Getting Zania out of prison won’t be easy.
I want to tell her how much it means to me that Belial has asked me to go, that he trusts me with this, but I’m not sure I can put it into words without sounding like a complete idiot.