Page 88 of Drowning in Darkness

She sighs. “Always so bossy.” Her lips curve. “Do you want to order me around? Do you want me to crawl, James? Beg?”

Nope. Not happening. My blood rushes south—again—defying my orders much like I imagine she would.

“No,” I state, raising my voice to try to snap her back to reality.

“Liar,” she teases. “If I got on my knees for you.” A frown pinches her forehead. “I don’t know.”

She huffs and rolls over so her face is squashed in the sofa, her legs stretch across my lap, and her shirt rises, showing a glimpse of my underwear she stole.

I need to get her to bed. Her own bed. Behind a closed bedroom door that I should exit and never again cross.

I scoop her up in my arms, and she curls against my chest, her soft hand slipping beneath the neck of my T-Shirt to rest against my heart. Her eyes blink up at me in confusion. At least she’s awake now. I don’t think I could do another sleepwalking episode of her lap dancing for me.

“You’re so warm,” she murmurs as I stride to her room. “And hard. Probably from all the log chopping. Who needs that many logs, anyway? Are you building a tiny house?”

My lips twitch. “For the mountain fairies, yes.”

“Excellent news. I do believe they’ve found their dark fae prince.”

She sounds a little out of it. I glance down and recognize the signs of the medication that makes her a little loopy. “I’m no prince.”

She stretches her neck, like she’s offering it to me. “Show me someone else who runs into danger for a woman they’ve never met.”

“Firefighters, police, etcetera. It’s in their job description.”

I cradle her with one arm and pull the comforter back with my other before settling her onto the soft mattress. She cups my face between her hands before I can pull away. “They get paid. They chose that profession. You did neither, and you still stepped up. That’s rare, James. Stop underestimating yourself.”

I pull the covers up to her chin, and in a moment of insanity, kiss her forehead. We both freeze for a beat, nothing but the sound of our breaths surrounding us. “Sleep well,” I utter, pulling back and escaping from the room.

I can’t breathe without taking in a lungful of her scent, which seems to have saturated the entire lodge. Outside is where I’ll find peace and the will to resist a woman who is too damn good for me.

I’m picking up the ax and swinging it in less than a minute. Each time the wood splits, I grit my teeth as I remember all the horrific things I’ve witnessed, and even worse, done. I’m under no illusion that there’s a place in heaven for me. I’d refuse it anyway.

Sure, good people do bad things for the right reason all the damn time, but this isn’t that. I’m not that.

Sweat beads my brow as the moon shines bright overhead and the air splits with the howl of a wolf. More answer its call. A pack, not a lone one. I lean on the ax positioned on the chopping block and sigh. My muscles scream at me, and it’s a welcome break from all the other things that scream.

Maybe I should call Daisy. I need to keep my head clear, and she’s the best person for the job. I lift my head to look at the window of her room. It’s dark, and I’m sure she passed out almost straight away, or she’d be out here making wisecracks at my anger management techniques and offering to call the fairies to score my technique.

I can’t leave her alone. I wouldn’t rest. Daisy will have to wait, and I’ll just have to endure the pain.

After dragging my ass back inside, I shoot my sister a message regarding Burnside and his movements.

Eleanor: I already know.

Why are all the women in my life smartasses?

I grab a quick shower, needing this sweat off me before I can rest. Except as the steam fills the room, I find a hidden message on the glass, affirmations of a woman who is stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. The problem isn’t in those words, it’s in the ones written backwards. I tilt my head, trying to read them. How much time did she take to pen them in reverse?

My fingers trace a backward C, but it doesn’t smudge. I almost slap myself at how stupid I am. I shut off the water and don’t bother with the towel as I step outside to face the glass.

Bold words from the dark-haired temptress in my lodge. A single sentence that makes me smirk as my eyes lift to the clear handprint just above them. My hand print.

Busted.

But instead of calling me out, she took the knowledge and weaponized it in a game I hadn’t even been playing until this moment. That one handprint is irrefutable evidence of my desire.

I shake my head and head into the closet she uses as armor. I can’t even be mad; it wasn’t her invading my private moments. It was I, guilty as charged, and now she’s using it to her advantage. I have to admire her tenacity.