Page 83 of Drowning in Darkness

“Then I’ll rest.” In my grave.

Her eyes flutter closed. “What does rest look like for you?”

I tilt my head. “It means safety for you.”

Her eyes snap open. “You can’t promise that. No one can.”

Try me. “I can dispatch the worst of them. But you’re right; I can’t neutralize every threat.”

I need to step away, but she keeps me in her orbit. I’ve never felt as out of control as I do when I’m with her.

“We should eat before it gets cold,” she murmurs and licks her lips like she’s trying to take the taste of me inside her.

I release her and grab my plate before I do something stupid. I debate on eating elsewhere, but she would take it personally, and I’ll do anything not to make her sad.

Dropping my ass onto the stool next to her, I focus on my food and dive in.

“Do your skills extend beyond pasta and bread?” she wonders before following it up with a groan. “Damn, James, that’s good.”

“It was an unwritten rule that men didn’t do anything domestic, but I think my mother always dreamed of a future for me and Eleanor to be free, and she wanted to give us the skills to survive beyond the walls Jonanthan built.”

“But you did often venture out, right?”

“Never for pleasure.”

“That’s a shame. There’s so much beauty in the world if you only open your eyes.”

“That’s what this place is about. It’s my secret. No one is meant to know about it.”

“Camryn is a resourceful woman who is excellent at her job.” She takes a second slice of the garlic bread. “Tell me you made this, because I might marry you for this bread alone. Your mother knew what she was doing.”

“I made it.”

“Okay, so I’ll make the place pretty, and you take care of the carbs. Deal?”

I quirk a brow. “What’s not pretty about this place?”

She waves the garlic bread in the air. “It’s stunning in location and design, but a little too magazine-worthy. It needs an injection of color and warmth.”

Her being here does both of those things, but I can’t keep her. “Feel free to change whatever.”

She gasps and does a cute wiggle on the stool. “Are you serious? Don’t tease me. My heart can’t take it.”

She’ll take it just fine. Nope, not what she meant. “Sure. Use my laptop, add things into baskets, and I’ll sort out where to ship them.”

“I thought you were joking when you said you’d have to go pick stuff up.”

“No joke. This place is off the grid. The second the postal service gets a hold of it, it’s burned as a hideout.”

“Fair enough. Does that mean we get to leave here for a few hours? Because I’m already going stir-crazy.”

“We? No.”

She pouts. Brat. “But you get to leave.”

“I’m not being hunted.”

“You must be fairly certain that you won’t be recognized wherever you go to collect your stuff. Otherwise, you wouldn’t risk it.”