just mad. Robotic me says the word out loud, testing it. But it’s not enough. “No, Ana. I am way, way beyond mad.”
“Way beyond mad. That doesn’t sound good.”
No. It’s not. We gaze at each other and I wish I could stand up and yell and scream and tell her how I feel. How disappointed and relieved I am.
How frightened I am.
How fucking furious I am.
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the depth of these conflicting feelings that plague me right now. But robotic me doesn’t know what to do; all systems are offline, trying to contain my rage.
She reaches over, grabs her glass, and takes a sip of water. “Ryan caught Jack,” she says, placing the glass back down.
“I know.”
Her brow creases. “Are you going to be monosyllabic for long?”
Is she trying to be funny? “Yes,” I respond, because it’s all I can manage.
Her frown deepens. “I’m sorry I stayed out.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Why say it, then?”
“Because I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
It’s too late for that, Ana. I sigh and run a hand through my hair.
“I think Detective Clark wants to talk to you,” she says.
“I’m sure he does.”
“Christian, please…”
“Please what?”
“Don’t be so cold.”
Cold? “Anastasia, cold is not what I’m feeling at the moment. I’m burning. Burning with rage. I don’t know how to deal with these”—I wave my hand seeking inspiration—“feelings.”
Her eyes widen farther, and before I can stop her, she clambers out of bed and onto my lap. It’s so unexpected—a welcome, disarming diversion from my rage. Slowly and carefully, so I don’t break her, I wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her hair, inhaling her unique Ana scent.
She’s here.
She’s okay.
My throat burns with my unshed tears of gratitude.
Thank heavens she’s safe.
She embraces me and kisses my neck.
“Oh, Mrs. Grey. What am I going to do with you?” My voice is hoarse, and I kiss the top of her head.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Why?”
“You don’t normally drink hard liquor.”
“This is my second glass. I’ve had a trying night, Anastasia. Give a man a break.”
I sense her smile. “If you insist, Mr. Grey.” She nuzzles my throat, once more. “You smell heavenly. I slept on your side of the bed because your pillow smells of you.”
Oh, Ana.
I kiss her hair. “Did you, now? I wondered why you were on this side. I’m still mad at you.”
“I know,” she whispers. My hand moves rhythmically down her back; touching her brings me solace and starts to ground me in the now. “And I’m mad at you,” she says.
I stop caressing her back. “And what, pray, have I done to deserve your ire?”
“I’ll tell you later when you’re no longer burning with rage.” She kisses my neck and I close my eyes and hold her.
Tight.
I never want to let her go.
I could have lost her. She could have been killed by that asshole. “When I think of what might have happened…” I squeeze the words past the knot of fury that’s still lodged in my throat.
“I’m okay.”
“Oh, Ana,” I choke out, and I want to cry.
“I’m okay. We’re all okay. A bit shaken. But Gail is fine. Ryan is fine. And Jack is gone.”
“No thanks to you,” I mutter.
She leans back and glares at me. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to argue about it right now, Ana.”
I think she’s weighing my words, and for whatever reason, she cuddles into me once more. She wouldn’t if she knew the truth.
She knows the truth.
She knows me.
The bad seed.
She’s seen the monster. “I want to punish you.” I whisper, like it’s a deep, dark confession, “really beat the shit out of you.”
She stills. “I know,” she whispers.
That’s not what I expect her to say. “Maybe I will.”
“I hope not,” she says, her voice quiet but unwavering.
I sigh. It’s never going to happen. This I know and I reconciled myself to that when she came back after leaving me.
But I want to.
Really fucking want to.
But she left the last time I did.
Now she’s my wife and here we are.
I hug her tighter. “Ana, Ana, Ana. You’d try the patience of a saint.”
“I could accuse you of many things, Mr. Grey, but being a saint isn’t one of them.”
And there she is.
My girl.
I chuckle, and though it sounds hollow, even to my ears, it’s cathartic. “Fair point well made as ever, Mrs. Grey.” I kiss her forehead. “Back to bed. You had a late night, too.” I pick her up and deposit her back on the bed.
“Lie