By the two hundredth descent, a slow burn had worked its way into his biceps. He did two hundred more before rolling to his back and performing just as many sit-ups. Sweat trickled down his chest and back in little rivulets. His mind whirled.
If Vika ever found out about his past . . . about his side job . . . she would no longer trust him on any level, and would not want him out of the cage. She would dump him into the same category of evil as her father and Matas.
She wouldn’t understand the difference between a necessary kill and a cold-blooded one. But then, she wouldn’t need to, he realized a second later. His kills hadn’t always been necessary. Sometimes he’d had to take out innocents to get to his targets—and those operations had been performed in cold blood.
Those were the jobs that had left a dark film of acid over his skin.
Those were also the jobs that had caused him to question his line of work, to debate leaving the agency. And really, he would have left a long time ago, if not for John and Blue. They’d needed him.
“What are you doing?” Vika asked, ending the cold-shoulder treatment.
“Exercising. Getting oxygen to my brain.” And maybe it was working.
His thoughts suddenly jumped from a curved road to a straight one. So what if he reacted terribly whenever she was hurt? So what if he grew any more attached to her? So what if she wouldn’t be happy with his job situation? No other man had ever kissed her. No other man had ever held her. Solo had been the first. A sense of possessiveness rose up inside him, consuming him.
Solo would be the only.
He would have her, he decided, and his motions slowed. He would enjoy her for whatever time they had left in these lands. He would be her man, and she would be his woman.
His woman. Oh, how he liked the sound of that. He would work to make it so. Whatever proved necessary.
With the decision, relief filled him, and inside, where instinct swirled, a sudden knowing bloomed. This was right. This was supposed to happen.
The revelation left him reeling. Used to be, he’d had a knowing each and every day, an internal knowledge that had nothing to do with an external voice. Truth had risen up inside him, urging him to do exactly what he needed to do to survive—and not just to survive, but to thrive. Go here. Don’t go here. Do this. Don’t do this.
But after too many promptings to do things he hadn’t really wanted to do—turn down a job, stay away from John or Blue for a certain length of time—he’d begun to rationalize. Maybe he had misunderstood, he’d told himself. Maybe he was missing it.
After he’d ignored one too many knowings, they’d just stopped rising, and he’d had only X to guide him. He’d convinced himself he was happier that way. But he hadn’t been happier. He’d ignored his companion, too, and had made stupid decisions, as evidenced by the explosion in Michael’s office. Well, no more. He wasn’t going to ignore another knowing. Not this time. This was right, and he would win Vika’s trust.
Before, he had scared her, had pushed for too much too fast. Solo would rather rot in this cage forever than frighten Vika in any way. He never wanted her to look at him as she looked at her father and Matas. He would go slowly this time, would ease her into every new experience.
And there was no better time to start. He straightened, his gaze locking on his beautiful Vika. Target acquired. Poor darling.
“What?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably. “Not that I’m speaking to you.”
Hadn’t ended the cold-shoulder treatment, after all. “I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“About our arrangement.” He looked her over, this fairy princess come to save the beast. Blond hair was tangled around a dirt-smudged face. Her hands nervously twisted the fabric of her shirt. He definitely had some preliminary work to do. But . . . he didn’t mind. Was actually thrilled by it.
He wanted more than sex, he realized.
He wanted to soothe and comfort her, to talk to and laugh with her. He wanted . . . everything. Her mind, her emotions, her thoughts, hopes and dreams. He wanted to learn about her, every little detail, and tell her about himself. He’d never before had that with a woman.
He wanted to know about the invisible man she’d mentioned.