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There were ways of ensuring their freedom as well as their security, and Stygian knew it.
“Why? You haven’t been here long enough to have contracted cabin fever, so why is it so imperative that you get out tonight?”
“Because I’ve finally had enough.” Her chin lifted, eyes narrowed. “Enough, Stygian. Now get me the hell out of here.”
Yeah, she’d had enough. The scent of her determination to get out of the hotel was so heavy in the room that Stygian could sense nothing else coming from her.
He nodded slowly. “It will take a few hours to arrange everything.”
“Claire and Chelsea are going as well,” she informed him. “So while you’re picking out bodyguards, pick out theirs.”
He would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that his dick was driving a spike of agonizing hunger raging through him.
She was hot as hell whe
n she got all stubborn like that. She made him want to cover her and show all the ways he could definitely control all that feminine aggression roiling through her.
Liza watched the flare of arousal, brighter, hotter than she’d seen it before as it flared in his gaze. Giving in to him was a desire that wasn’t easy to push back. It tugged at her with regret and pricked at the determination racing through her.
She couldn’t stay in this room any longer.
She couldn’t stare in that mirror another second and see the girl she had been, the fear she had known, the desperation that had been so much a part of her that summer.
Remembering was a bitch, and the memories weren’t comforting ones.
They were filled with fear and the stark reality of everything that had been taken away from so many.
Each time she stared into that mirror, she saw the results of the plastic surgery that had been done. A bit here, a bit there, a tilt of the eyes, a difference in her cheekbones. Just enough to make her look enough like Liza Johnson—
Just enough to make Fawn resemble Claire.
And she remembered that ritual, the words spoken, the scent of the herbs, the cadence of the chants and the feel of the dew from the sweat lodge as it rained down upon her.
And that moment—that heartrending second—when Honor Roberts had slept, and who Liza Johnson had been had slipped inside her.
It had begun slowly, moments after Cassie Sinclair had left the room. A fragment here. A fragment there. Nothing solid or concrete yet, but enough—
The loss of who she had been had saved her.
The death of two young women, buried with the utmost ceremony, and in the utmost secrecy, had allowed her and Fawn to live in peace—for a while at least.
Tonight, she wanted to dance them out of her mind, drink them from her consciousness and deal with them tomorrow.
Not tonight.
Besides, she also needed to discuss a few things with Claire.
Did the other woman remember as well?
Was that the reason for the fear each time Liza had nearly given herself away?
“Liza?” She nearly flinched as he moved to her, his tone deep, rasping as the backs of his fingers grazed her cheek. “Where did you go, baby?”
Swiping her tongue over her lips nervously, she gave a quick shake of her head. “I’m right here, Stygian. I’m just hoping you’ll take me somewhere. I have yet to leave this damned room and I can’t handle it any longer.”
Thoughtful, with a gleam of disbelief and skepticism, he stared down at her before nodding slowly.
“Let’s see if we can get you out of here for a few hours then,” he said, sending a flare of anticipation racing through her.
