really answer that. “I’m sorry for startling you,” he said, and placed the toast at her mouth.
She chewed, swallowed—and asked the same question again.
Would she leave if he continued to refuse? “What if I said I was talking to an invisible man?” he asked, amazed he’d admitted that much. He was at enough of a disadvantage already, and not even Michael, John, or Blue knew about Dr. E and X.
“I might believe you,” she replied, and she sounded sincere.
Shocking.
And a huge relief. He was glad he hadn’t tried to lie. Eventually, even the smallest mistruth would catch up to a man, a tangled web of thorns that would leave him cut and bleeding. In fact, Solo had always told his mother the truth about everything, even her cooking. Not to be cruel, but because he had respected her too much to feed her an untruth.
A small smile lifted the corners of Vika’s mouth.
Just as before, the smile lit her entire face. She looked as though she’d swallowed the sun. His heart banged against his ribs, his blood heated, and oh, he fought the urge to gather her in his arms and hold her. Just hold her.
“I think you’re as weird as me,” she said, then took another bite of the toast and motioned to him with a tilt of her chin. “Or is the proper phrasing as weird as I am? Anyway, your turn.”
“I’m embarrassed for you,” Dr. E said. “You should—”
“He told you to shut up!” X climbed up Solo’s ear, stomped across his head, and jumped onto his left shoulder. He grabbed the once-beautiful blond by the ear and, as Dr. E yelped, disappeared.
I owe that man a lot more than another thank-you.
And the girl, if he was being honest. Solo took a bite of the toast. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Vika.”
Another smile, this one not quite as bright. “I wish I could do more.”
“I don’t want you to do more. I don’t want you to risk yourself on my behalf again.”
She blinked rapidly. “Are you trying to protect me? The girl who is not bound by shackles?”
“Yes. I vowed I would.”
“And you always keep your promises, you said.”
“Always.”
The rest of the tension drained from her, and she said, “That is very sweet of you.”
A female referring to him as “sweet.” A novelty he quite enjoyed. But she hadn’t promised not to risk herself, had she.
“So is your name really Solo?” she asked.
“It’s Solomon, but my friends call me Solo.” He should have given her the same Bob Fred alias he’d given Criss, but he liked the idea of his name spilling from those heart-shaped lips.
“And you’re fine with me calling you that?”
“Yes.” More than.
“Even though we’re not friends?”
He nodded. A smoother man would have said something like “We are friends” or “I would love to be your friend,” but the words would have sounded false coming from him. He didn’t actually want to be her friend. He wanted to use her . . . he wanted to save her . . . and he wanted to have her.
She thought it over, nodded. “Very well. Solo.”
Reality was far better than supposition. “About Audra,” he said, and she paled. “What do you know about her tattoos?”
Her head tilted to the side, her expression resigned. “She tried to use one against you, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Matas taught her a little about black magic. Ever since, the spiders come to life and bite whomever she desires. And oh, it’s painful. Makes you sick.”
“You have been bitten?”
“A few times.”
Strike three, Audra. “Listen, you’re in trouble. Your father suspects you’re the one who’s been feeding me.”
Her knees buckled, and she would have collapsed if he hadn’t reached out and grabbed the hem of her T-shirt to steady her. How light she was. At her strongest, she would not be a match for his weakest.
“Can’t I ever avoid a break?” she asked with a tremor.
Avoid a—Wait. “You mean catch a break.”
“Why would I want to catch a break? You catch a ball. You break bones, homes, and hearts. And now, I must go.”
Not yet. He wasn’t ready. “Free me, Vika.” The only thing he’d ever begged for was the lives of his adoptive parents, and that had gotten him nowhere. Still, he might beg for this. “Let me protect you better.”
Her mouth opened, closed. Once again she shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“No. I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head all the harder for emphasis. “And I know, I know. My refusal means