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Ravaged By a Devil

Page 78

by Faye Pierce

"It's not about that!" I roar, the veins in my neck throbbing as I press two fingers against the bridge of my nose. "It's about you actually listening to me, fuck! How many times do I have to say this? You cannot be stubborn when it comes to your own fucking safety!"

Her face falls instantly. The bright, playful light in her eyes vanishes, replaced by a quiet stillness as she just stands there, staring at me in silence.

The silence in the room squeezes at my chest, but I'm too blind with fury and exhaustion to fix it. I whirl on my heel to walk away, instantly slamming shoulder-first into the stupid decorative plant again.

"Fuck!" I snarl, shoving the leaves aside and storming up the grand staircase toward my master suite.

My heart is hammering, my pulse wild and restless under my skin. I strip off my jacket, throw my gun onto the nightstand, and head straight for the bathroom to drown myself in a scalding hot shower.

The hot water pounds against my shoulders, but it does nothing to wash away the bitter, sour taste of regret coating my throat.

By the time I shut off the taps, dry off, and pull on a dark pair of sweatpants, the anger has completely drained out of me, replaced by a suffocating weight of guilt.

I can't get her face out of my head. The exact moment the light left her eyes when I barked at her. She was literally standing there with flour on her nose, trying to tell me what she was making, and I fucking shut her down like an animal.

It was stupid. She was home. She was safe behind my gates. I could have handled it with a fraction of the aggression. Stupid, arrogant bastard.

It takes everything in me to swallow my pride. I leave the bedroom and force my feet to drag me down the grand staircase, moving slowly, cautiously, as if walking through a minefield.

The sweet, rich scent of baking butter and sugar leads me straight to the kitchen. Alexis is standing by the island, her back to me as she pulls a baking sheet out of the hot oven.

When she turns around and sees me standing in the doorway, she just offers me a small, gentle smile. The quiet grace of it feels like a sharp knife driving straight into my heart.

I walk over to the island, sliding my frame onto one of the high bar stools, watching her every move as she carefully transfers a warm batch of golden cookies to a plate. She carries the plate over, setting it down on the marble right in front of me.

Before she can step back, I reach out. My hand wraps around her small waist, my long fingers gripping her hips as I pull her flush between my spread thighs, bringing her close enough to feel her breath against my throat.

She smells like sweet strawberries, warm vanilla, and hot butter. She smells like home.

My dark gaze locks onto her lips, my pulse racing for an entirely different reason now as my jaw tightens.

God help me, I want to swallow her whole.

"I just need to know you're safe, doll. At all times," I rumble, my voice rough as I pull her a fraction closer, my hands anchoring her against me.

"Driving you to work, picking you up... it’s the only way I know for sure that nothing's touching you. You are never a bother to me, Alexis. Never."

Alexis softens, resting her hands against my shoulders, her eyes searching my tired face. "I notice you sleep badly, Cain. You're always tossing and turning, and then you just disappear downstairs in the middle of the night. What is that about?"

I shift slightly, looking down at the counter. "I’ve never needed much sleep. It’s fine."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying a single word of it, but she lets it slide with a slow nod.

I lean down, burying my face in the warm crook of her neck, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her skin. "I'm sorry," I murmur against her collarbone. "For shouting."

"I know," she whispers softly, running her fingers through the back of my hair.

She says she knows, but she has no idea how hard those two words are for a man like me to say.

Alexis leans up on her tiptoes, pressing a tender peck to my lips before stepping back just enough to point at the plate. "Now, taste the cookie."

I reach out, picking up one of the warm chocolate chip cookies, and take a bite. The rich, melted chocolate and soft dough hit my tongue, surprisingly perfect.

She watches me expectantly, her eyes wide. "Is it good?"

I chew, swallowing down the last of my pride, and give her an honest nod. "It’s amazing, doll."

She flashes another smile and flutters away. This woman will be the death of me.