Crowed (Team Zero #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,25

me.” I meet his eyes, trying to find a shard of mercy in him. “Leave me in peace.”

He glares, the blue of his gaze freezing. “Admit. It.”

“I’m not fine,” I whisper just so he’ll give up already. Instead of the indifference I was used to, something cracks inside me. The sound is so crashing, I close my eyes at the intensity of it.

“Louder,” he orders.

“I’m not fine.”

“Louder!”

“I’m not fine!” A sob tears from my throat. “I’m not fine. I’m not.”

Images of Maman before her death fill my vision. She was a shell, but I’d rather have that shell than be alone. Dad disappeared when I was a kid. Papa died, and all I had was Maman. She was the anchor of my existence. When she left, the loneliness almost tore me apart.

I spent weeks roaming the house like a ghost, being swallowed in the laughs we had together. Every day, I hoped all this was a dream and I’d wake up to find her and Papa and everything that made me happy.

There’s no sense of life after her. Only deep loneliness. I can’t figure out how to live without her and Papa. I can’t figure out why I’m still existing after their deaths.

But I deluded myself into thinking I was fine, so none of those feelings would return. Numbness was a lot better than grief.

And now, because of this man, I can’t even lie to myself anymore.

I stare into the turquoise blue eyes that are breaking me and putting me back together again. Crow’s expression softens as he releases my chin and wrists.

“What do you want, Eloise?” He runs a finger down my cheek, wiping a tear, and waking every dead patch of skin in his wake. “What do you really want?”

This man. This stranger. This killer. He’s both excitement and danger. Adrenaline and confusion. He’s everything I shouldn’t want, but at the same time, he’s all I crave. All that breathes life into me.

For once, just for a short while, I don’t want to feel numb or dead.

I clutch his arm, using the deep blue of his eyes as an anchor. “I want to feel alive.”

Crow

I want to feel alive.

Just hearing those words coming out of her mouth makes blood pump in my veins.

Eloise is staring at me with those huge eyes, bright green and filled with confusion and a tinge of fear. Her lips quiver and a tremor passes through her tiny hand that’s clutching my arm.

It’s like she really doesn’t know how to do this. How to be alive.

There’s nothing more I want to do than yank off those trousers, take her against the wall, and show her exactly how to be alive.

But not when she’s confused out of her mind. If I push her too far, she might break and never put herself back together again.

And I want her to put herself together. No idea why the fuck would I care, but Eloise has been unexplainable ever since I met her. All I know is that I’ll take her hand in this. Whatever the fuck this is. Because I’ve seen snippets of the woman lurking underneath the numbness.

That woman deserves to come out.

Instead of indulging in my fucked-up fantasies, I let her go and stride towards the door. “Meet me outside in five.”

She remains rooted in place. “W-why?”

I whip my head back. “You’ll find out.”

This time, she nods, her expression screaming uncertainty. Uncertainty is good. Uncertainty will keep her on the edge of her seat.

I cast one last look at her wet shirt and the creamy breasts teasing from beneath. The decision to walk away from that luscious body seems so fucking wrong right now. I shake my head and start down the hall.

As I put on a T-shirt, a small voice whispers that this is none of my business. No attachment, remember?

However, I can’t even begin to think about abandoning Eloise in this state. Not when I pushed her to bare herself to me.

With that resolution, I descend the stairs.

I expected Eloise to chicken out and to have to drag her kicking and screaming, but she’s pacing the porch in white flip-flops. Tiny jean shorts hug her hips along with a plain black T-shirt.

No wet transparent shirts. Bummer.

But those shorts are revealing sublime legs so the lack of the wet shirt is almost bearable.

Almost.

Upon noticing me, Eloise stops pacing and crosses her arms under her chest. Her foot taps on the floor. A habit she does whenever anxious. “So, what is it?”

There’s that tiny hope