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“You know what they say…” he says softly.
Having no clue what he’s talking about, I jerk my face away.
Looking to the table, I search for something, anything I can use as a weapon.
Fuck it, if it comes to it, I’ll start screaming my head off.
His mouth touches my ear.
It’s a light touch, barely noticeable, but something about it causes a sharp zap of pleasure to course through me.
As he breathes against the shell of my ear, I find myself shivering. “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back…”
Gently turning my face back to him, his eyes sear into my eyes. “It’s meant to be. You came back, Eden.”
I honestly don’t understand what the fuck he’s trying to say. Does he think me coming back means I accept my death?
“No, you’ve got it wrong. I came back because I don’t want to die…” I explain.
Frowning, he strokes his thumb across my bottom lip. “Why would you die? I told you I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hating the way he’s touching me. Hating it because it’s making me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling, especially at this fucking moment…
I snap, “Because I thought that was the deal!” and shove his hand away.
Jude stiffens and looks at the hand I pushed away. “I thought I made myself clear.”
He extends his fingers then clenches them into a fist.
Looking back at me, he frowns. “You were upset so I let you go. I gave you the night to get yourself and your affairs in order.”
Affairs. Fuck.
“I’ve made quite a few preparations for you,” he goes on. “I think you’ll be pleased.”
Oh god.
“Preparations?” I ask, the word barely a squeak.
Did he order my casket or something? Pick out my grave?
“Yes. You’ll have everything you could possibly need.”
Tears fill my eyes and I shake my head in disbelief.
His frown deepens. “This upsets you. Why? Did you wish to make them yourself?”
Closing my eyes, I reach up and press my palms into them. Trying my best to not completely lose my shit.
“Don’t cry,” he warns. “You know I detest it. I cannot bear to see you upset.”
That’s rich given the situation.
A laugh of disbelief bubbles up in my throat but I swallow it back.
“What do you expect me to do?” I stammer out. “Accept my death with grace? Be grateful you’ve planned it all out for me?”
Grabbing my hands, he rips them away from my eyes. “Why do you keep saying that? For fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to say I’m not going to kill you?”
