Theirs to Protect - Julia Sykes Page 0,19

killed because he decided to come to my rescue.

“You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re right.” He heaved a sigh. “You’ll call me if anything else happens.” It wasn’t a question. “I won’t lose you, son. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad.” My voice hitched a little, and I blinked against the sting at the corners of my eyes. His love for me was overwhelming, and the fact that he still wanted to be part of my life—that he would risk his reputation to save me—meant more to me than I could ever put into words.

We ended the call, my father’s voice a bit thick on his farewell. I wasn’t the only one affected by our enduring relationship.

I took a few deep breaths to collect myself before I texted Marco. Ashlyn was still in class, and he was waiting for her outside her lecture hall, keeping watch. I’d chosen to stay at home for this phone call, so I could have complete privacy. Ashlyn wouldn’t know a thing about the threat to our lives. I wouldn’t allow her to worry or be scared for even a moment.

As Marco and I discussed what I’d learned from my father, the memory of Ashlyn’s nightmare played through my mind. My stomach turned at the image of her pale face, drawn with terror. She’d cried out my name and felt my scar, as though reassuring herself that I wasn’t bleeding out.

I had my suspicions about the content of her nightmare, but Marco thought he was the one who’d haunted her dreams. That shit had to stop. We needed each other more than ever, and I couldn’t allow him to isolate himself.

I sent another text: We’re playing with Ashlyn as soon as you get home.

It wasn’t a request. I wouldn’t allow Marco to evade intimacy out of some misguided attempt to protect Ashlyn from his more savage needs.

Three gray dots bounced on my screen, popping up and disappearing multiple times as Marco wrote and rewrote his text. Finally, he settled on a thumbs-up emoji. That was good enough for me. I’d interrogate both of them if I had to. By the time I was finished with them, all of this tension would be resolved.

Chapter Six

Ashlyn

“I failed,” I groaned. “I totally failed. That Classical Art test was brutal.” Marco opened our front door for me, and I trudged inside. My brain felt like a wrung-out sponge; I’d spent weeks cramming as much knowledge as I could into my head, and then in a matter of hours, I’d written down every ounce of what I’d learned into my essays.

“You didn’t fail.” Marco’s voice was deep and stern, the firm tone that made me shiver. I leaned into his strength, welcoming his support and unyielding belief in me. “You’re brilliant, Ashlyn. We can talk through your test if that’s helpful. Do you want to tell me about your essays?”

“Oh my gosh, I was so stressed! For the question about Roman domestic art in the early Imperial Period, I almost forgot to mention Pompeiian frescoes in my analysis. Pompeiian frescoes, Marco.” I emphasized how close I’d come to making an idiotic omission.

“But you didn’t forget. Tell me what’s so important about these frescoes.” His mouth curved in a small smile, indulgent and fascinated. I could talk for hours about everything that worried me, and he would patiently listen to every word, allowing me to work through all of my anxiety so I could finally relax.

I started rattling off all the facts I’d included in my essay, detailing why they were germane to the test question and how I’d defended my thesis statement. While I talked, Marco led me into the kitchen. His hands briefly bracketed my waist, and he lifted me into one of the minimalist white leather chairs at the marble-topped kitchen island. He squeezed once, a silent order without interrupting my babbling: stay.

He stepped around the island and went to the counter between the huge farmhouse sink and massive stainless-steel fridge. A pink cardboard box sat beside the gas range where Marco prepared his delicious meals for us every day.

But he didn’t have cooking in mind right now. He opened the box and presented me with a strawberries and cream cupcake from my favorite bakery.

“You went to Amelie’s?” I asked, pausing my chatter about my essay to eagerly accept the sweet treat. “Thank you!”

“Actually, Joseph picked this up for you,” Marco corrected me.

“Congrats on finishing your test, angel.” Joseph’s incandescent smile hit me square in