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“Sit down.” My words were a growl, and she flinched again but bolted toward the open door instead of the low sofa I’d pointed at.
“Leia.” I reached for her and hauled her back as I snapped her name, and she squealed as my arms wrapped around her. “I said to sit. Not run away. You will not run away from me.”
I boomed the last words, the volume driven by a sudden spike of dread.
She was running. I was the monster I’d never wanted to be to her. And I needed her, craved the power only she could bring me. But need had started giving way to want, and a little spark of reliance glowed in my chest. I wanted to be around her and for her to want to be with me.
I sat next to her, and she squashed herself to one end of the couch, taking up half as much room as she probably needed to be comfortable.
“I need you to stay so I can explain,” I said, trying to make my voice reasonable. Gentle, even. I reached for her but retracted my hand when she shifted away, not even meeting my gaze.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat, and I almost smiled at the fire that still blazed in her despite any fear or uncertainty this room had caused.
“What are you doing in my private wing?” Okay. That was good. I’d asked a reasonable question in a reasonable tone of voice. Ten reasonable points to me.
I glanced at her, but her gaze darted to the door, and her posture was tense like she was spring-loaded and might take off running at any point. I didn’t want to chase her through the house, but I was faster than her, and I would catch her.
I sighed. That kind of behavior would scare her and raise even more questions for me to answer.
“Please stay,” I murmured. “Please don’t run away. I know you have questions, so ask them and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Oh my God.” She closed her eyes and rocked a little, and it didn’t even look like she was talking to me. “Oh my God.” She pinched the inside of her arm. “Wake up,” she murmured. “Fucking wake up.”
I waited, just watching her. My breathing calmed even as her breaths increased, and I focused on regaining my control. I could handle this. It was a curve ball, but I could handle it.
Finally, she looked at me. “Not a dream.” Her voice was flat, expressionless, and her eyes were without the usual light.
“Not a dream.” I shook my head as sadness wound through my thoughts. “Where’s Jason?”
Leia’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t even try to make this his fault. I assume he’s not the one with a wall full of the world’s oldest selfies and fridges filled with more blood than the local blood bank.”
I shrugged. “I couldn’t presume to comment on Jason’s taste in art or the contents of his fridge.”
“Nicolas.”
I sighed. “What are your questions?” It was better to let her lead than risk saying too much.
The sound she made was somewhere between a frustrated huff and a strangled chuckle as she threw her arms up and we both bounced a little on the cushions of the loveseat. “Just…” She looked around. “All of it. Why? What is this?”
I took a breath to form an answer, but she wasn’t finished.
“All the damn questions, actually. Who, what, how, where, when, why? Are…are you a criminal? A serial killer? What the hell was with that bedroom that someone had torn to shreds? Why do you have a treasure room with freaky pictures of you dressed up? And for the love of all that’s holy, why do you have fridges and fridges of blood? Trophies?”
When she finished, a mixture of confusion and pain blazed in her eyes, but the pain gave me hope. I could work with hurt. It would have been harder if she felt nothing.
Hurt feelings could be soothed. They could be turned.
In my experience, hurt feelings led to make up sex, and I’d be happy to get halfway back to that. Fucking Sebastian. All of this shit was still his fault. If he hadn’t inserted himself into my business, I might have claimed Leia last night.
That had been my plan after finding her so willing in the car, anyway. I should have just done it. I should have had Jenkins just turn the car around and take us home. My time would have been so much better spent between my sheets, over Leia, inside her, my cock moving to the same rhythm as her blood spilling down my throat.
I shifted, adjusting my pants discreetly.
“Well?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Once upon a time…” I deadpanned, and she flinched.
“Do all Dupont men begin stories that way?” She moved farther away, stealing a hair’s breadth of space to put more distance between us.
