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“Really?” she huffs, incredulous.
Before she can rip me a new one, I hold a finger to her lips.
“But the woman who consumes my waking thoughts and finds her way into my dreams burns too bright for that. She gets her energy—her light—from chasing sex traffickers”—God help me—“and debating political ideology that I will never be on board with. You’re not built to sit on the sidelines any more than I am.” I draw a breath. “What I need is for you to trust me to do right by you. To be honest with me—always. To come to me with the hard stuff—even if it means we’re going to have an argument that will take days and several rounds of hate sex to fully recover from. We both run, Lexie. We just do it in different ways.”
She links her arms around my neck, standing so close my cock twitches against her belly. But it’s her eyes, wide with sincerity, that cause a muscle in my chest to clench.
“I will be honest. I promise. I will trust you—I do trust you. That’s why I never go anywhere without these.” She pulls a chain from under her shirt, with the angel wings dangling from a clasp.
I take the charm between my fingers. It’s no more than a few grams, yet I nearly buckle under the weight.
“No matter what happens between us, as long as you keep the wings close, I’ll always find you, Angel. You have my word.”
“I know,” she says, raking her fingers through my hair.
There will come a time when her promise, her trust, and her loyalty will be on the line, as will mine. It might not happen right away, but it will happen. That’ll be the real test.
But even if we fail, I’d scorch the earth to find her.
34
LEXIE
I spent a good part of yesterday, and today, too, getting accustomed to the fact that the traffickers are dead. It was all over the news last night. Young women dancing in the streets and raising glasses in clubs all over Europe.
But what about all the women who are still missing, dead, or praying for death to save them? I won’t forget them.
While I’m relieved that there will be no new victims, at least not by their hand, they weren’t the first monsters, and they won’t be the last.
I slide several silver bangles on my wrist and swipe cherry gloss across my lips. I don’t know why I even bother. It doesn’t stay on for long, and it’s certainly no match for Rafael’s kisses.
Rafael.
I love you. That part wasn’t meant to be said aloud. I was mortified. But the feeling lasted just a second or two, and by the time I said my piece, I was glad it was out in the open.
I didn’t expect him to say it back. I don’t want him to say it at all until—unless—he means it.
But what he did say—that I never expected. I’m not going anywhere, Angel. Even if I wanted to, I can’t get you out of my damn head. You’re under my skin. I’ve got it bad. And you’re not built to sit on the sidelines any more than I am. It’s true. I’m not. But it’s almost as though he’s accepted it, accepted me, in a way that most people can’t. Not even my parents. It’s hard not to love a man who allows you to be yourself.
When I hear the knock, I glance at the clock and slip on a light, short jacket. Rafael’s going to love the dress I’m wearing, but I don’t want him to get the full effect until later.
“Yes?” I ask, because it’s protocol, even though I know it’s him.
“It’s me.”
His deep tenor makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight.
I’m a little nervous. Unless we’re spilling our guts, I’m normally comfortable around him, but this is a date. A first date.
Considering his cock has been in my mouth—and in a few other places too—I should be embarrassed that he hasn’t bought me dinner yet. Well, technically he has, but— Get a damn grip, Lexie, and let the man in or there will be no dinner tonight either.
I take a big breath and open the door for my date, who’s talking to Sabio with his eyes on me.
In a black shirt rolled to the elbows—always rolled to the elbows—and a pair of jeans that look like they were made for him, he’s pure sin. The kind of sin that he’s taught me to love.
“Hi,” I say, like a shy waif.
“Hi, beautiful,” he murmurs, stepping inside, and brushing his lips across mine before the lock snicks. “I don’t tell you that anywhere near enough.” He deepens the kiss—or maybe I do—and when my back grazes the wall, it evokes memories of the last time we stood in this very spot. Starving for one another. Taking and taking until the edge was off.
