Blood of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 2)

He nodded again, his lids low, his eyes glazed with exhaustion. Or was that sorrow?

I instinctively turned to face him. “Do you want to talk about Tallis and Georges?”

“No. Do you?”

Had one of my guardians mutated, I would’ve needed the outlet he was offering, a supportive shoulder, an ear to sob to, or more likely, a knife to bury in my heart. I was angry over the loss of our friends and my failure to protect them. But I had no tears. No grief-stricken stomach pangs. I’d never allowed myself to become attached to Tallis and Georges.

It was an awful thing to admit, even to myself, but the price of attachment in this world was too high. People died, abruptly and often. This was our life. Death was our life.

He was waiting for an answer, and I gave him an honest one. “I don’t like to talk about my regrets. I like to shove them into a numb corner and let them inflame and grow revengeful until they make me crazy.”

“You’re already crazy.” The smile in his voice evaporated some of the heaviness in the air.

At the risk of ending an open exchange before it even started, I placed my hand on his forearm. “Then let’s talk about the shed. What you walked in on…”

The muscles beneath my fingers hardened, and his eyes cut to mine. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s a lot to talk about.”

His chest rose, and his lips surrendered a sigh. “Such as?”

“Intimacy. Relationships. Sex.” I drew out the last word and watched him squirm. “You and me. Roark and me.”

He closed his eyes, shutting me out. The distant rumble of thunder marked the passing seconds.

I leaned closer to his ear, deepening my voice to feign total seriousness. “And butt sex. You know, between you and Roark?”

His eyes snapped open. “What?”

Smiling, I traced the tight skin beneath his lashes. “Just trying to get a reaction.”

He dropped his head back to the wall. “What do you want me to say, Evie?”

“I want you to tell me how you feel and what you think about when you see me with another man.” My fingers pressed against his arm, anchoring me. “Because if I saw you with Shea, or with another woman, I’d have a helluva lot to say.”

Motionless and stubborn, he slipped into a stiff quiet place. Maybe it wasn’t so quiet in his head, but the longer he refused to talk, the more deafening his silence became.

Just when I thought he’d pull away and run off into the rain, he surprised me.

“It's unfair.”

I hung on his words, which were made more poignant when he gifted me with his doleful gaze. He was making an effort, using his voice, letting me see him, and I loved him for it.

He didn’t look away as he untangled his thoughts. “Of the hundred million men left in the world, it’s hard to comprehend that I was the one who found you. Me.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Annie’s ghost, or whatever powers are at play, could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

Chosen? Burdened was the word I would’ve used. There should’ve been resentment in his voice, but I didn’t sense it. On the contrary, his shoulders relaxed and his mouth curled up at the corner.

“I was charged to protect the only surviving woman.” He swiped a hand over his face and met my eyes. “A sexually-charged, embodiment-of-every-man’s-fantasy, gorgeous fucking woman.”

The intensity of his compliment sizzled through my veins and sent my stomach into somersaults.

I didn’t deserve all that. “I’m not—”

“You radiate sex, darlin’. I could watch you gut a rabbit and get an erection.”

I could watch his gorgeous mouth move for hours. My breathing picked up, and I tried to calm the sudden heave of my chest.

“But that’s not what makes you beautiful.” He licked his lips. “It's not about the perfect shape of your body, or the way your little shirts accentuate your tits, or the natural roll of your hips when you walk.”

Unbidden, a grin grabbed hold of my mouth. “I don’t roll my—”

“It's your smile…fuck. I feel like I might die when I see your face soften with happiness. Or when you challenge me with that mischievous gleam in your eye. Or use witty jabs of humor when you’re frustrated. You’re sexy, but that’s a lazy man’s adjective. Your beauty is so much more.”

My skin flushed and heated, aching to erase the inches between us. My need for him came so suddenly, so viciously, I was afraid to move, to speak, to do anything. I wasn’t outside anymore. I was in. He’d let me in with his feelings, his candor, and his vulnerability. One wrong move, and he’d shove me out.

So I chose my words carefully. “How do you define beauty?”

He lifted my hand from his arm and traced the skin between my fingers. “It’s a carefree laugh, the rain, people coming together in survival.” He swallowed. “Falling in love. It’s when you’re enraptured by a distant mountain range and it looks so far away you’ll never reach it. It’s impossible to possess. You are beauty. Strong and independent. Intimidating as fuck. Brave to the point of stupidity—”