Page 47 of Depraved

Brandon’s face is drawn with regret. “You’re in danger because of me. But it’s too late for me to leave you alone. They know I’ll do anything for you. You’ll never be safe until I eliminate the threats.”

His features firm with determination. “I can’t take the tracker out. If we’re separated, I have to be able to find you.”

I want to snap at him that I don’t care; I don’t want this thing inside me, monitoring my every move.

But if what he’s saying is true, then it would be stupid of me to remove it.

I remember how my stalker held a knife to my throat.

And that man at the café said he’d hurt me if we met again.

“You will remove it once this is all over, and I’m safe,” I decree.

His eyes flash with relief. I guess he expected more of a fight.

I huff. “I’m independent, but I’m not an idiot. Those men scared me. I’ll stay with you until we figure this out, and I’ll keep this…thing inside me until the danger has passed. But I want to be clear that I don’t like it. And I’m still pissed that you drugged me so you could inject me with it when I was unconscious. We are going to have some serious talks about boundaries and respect going forward.”

“I’ll never tire of hearing your voice, even if you are berating me.” He grins, and he’s so gorgeous in his maniacal joy that it takes my breath away.

This should scare me, but it’s Brandon.

We’re bound by shared trauma and forbidden love that’s endured years of separation. Even his death didn’t stop me loving him.

It’s too soon for me to say it. There’s still so much more for me to learn about his life over the last five years when he was hiding himself from me.

I’m not ready to forgive him for that, even if I don’t hate him for it.

I could never hate him.

I blink and break from his intense blue gaze, eyeing the meal he prepared for us instead. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“I taught myself.”

I can’t suppress a small smile. “You’ve always been good at educating yourself. I just didn’t know that extended to culinary arts.”

“I wanted to learn for you.”

The swell of emotion in my chest is almost overwhelming.

He learned to cook because he wants to take care of me. He fought in the ring so he could earn the money to buy a house for me. He killed my stalker to save my life.

It’s all for me.

And all I ever gave him was a gunshot to the face.

He brushes the crease in my brow. “What’s wrong?”

“You keep saying you’re not worthy of me, but I’ve done nothing to deserve this devotion.” I force the words through my constricted throat. “I left you for dead.”

And that’s the deepest truth of why I can’t accept his obsessive love for me: I will never be able to atone for what I did to him.

“I survived,” he reassures me. “I’m right here.”

He takes my hand and places it on his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my palm.

“I don’t blame you for anything that happened,” he promises. “You are worthy of love, Karolina. More so than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re kind and fierce and brilliant. How could I not love you?”

Wet heat spills down my cheeks, and he kisses my tears away.