Page 50 of Black Heart
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I rasp.
I shove away from her and stalk out the door, slamming it shut behind me.
Only when I’m back in my truck, gripping the wheel, do I allow myself to exhale.
Layla’s scent clings to my clothes, my skin, and pumps through the very organ I thought long dead.
And I wonder which one of us is more haunted.
16
LAYLA
Kaden nearly chokes me out, then walks back inside my home with his cat cradled tenderly in his arms.
His reemergence causes an electric charge in the air, a smoky blend of danger and impending doom that seeps into every corner of my home.
Carefully, he makes his way upstairs, boots heavy on the creaking wooden steps.
“Where are you going?” I call after him, curiosity creeping into my voice.
He doesn’t answer, but continues his ascent.
I’ve managed to regain enough composure that only my fingers shake as I follow him. Our confrontation was brutal, visceral and so eye-opening, I’m heartbroken over what I saw.
Not terrified,heartbroken.
What the hell kind of person does that make me? Am I a masochist now?
I find him commandeering the smaller guest room adjacent to mine. It’s barely more than storage space at this point, filled with boxes and my own chaotic clutter.
With Reaper purring soundly in the middle of my bed, Kaden scours every corner of the upstairs, assessing and calculating with a meticulous focus that sends my heart skittering.
The house, he declares in that low rumble of his, needs some improvements.
Then, under Kaden’s ruthless efficiency and latent military precision, my spare room begins to transform.
I watch as he hauls in crates filled with equipment I’ve only seen in spy thrillers—sleek-looking monitors, complex keyboard sets, complicated machinery with blinking lights and whirring sounds.
I don’t ask where he got them from. Some questions are better left unanswered.
I gulp when he unrolls a satchel filled with weapons.
He arranges the monitors in a semi-circle on a rectangular fold-out table he lugged up the stairs, adjusting and readjusting the screens to align perfectly with his tall figure behind the table. Kaden’s set himself up to face the open doorway, with a direct line of sight into my bedroom.
His logic is sound, unfortunately. The vantage point allows him unobstructed views of my room and the surrounding hallway, but there’s something possessive about his actions, a primal marking of territory that has my pulse quickening.
Once everything is plugged in and powered up, it casts a supernatural blue glow, transforming my quaint storage space into a nerve center. I’m both impressed and intimidated by what he’s accomplished in mere hours.
“Will this … invasion affect my internet connection?” I ask as I linger outside the doorway.
It’s a poor attempt to inject levity into our tension-charged atmosphere, but I’m at a loss on what else to do. It’s clear he’s staying. I’m not about to give in to the impulse to try to stophim again. It’s clear I need more of a strategy when it comes to this man.
“No,” he replies. “It’ll improve it to the point you’ll believe you’re in the heart of a metropolis, not out on a peninsula with constant storms.”
His eyes slide over and catch mine briefly before they move to the view of my bed.
“I’ll move Reaper and her brood once I’ve set up their bed in here.”