Page 82 of Covert Mission
My feet root to the floor. I reach for her, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and draw her closer. “I’m sorry he scared you. I’m just mad as a spitting cobra and kicking myself in the balls for not being there to protect you.”
She stares at the center of my chest with her brows knotted together. “We’ve talked about this, too. You had a job to do. I was the idiot that let someone get close to me.”
Goddamn it. I growl at her, “Stop.”
She shakes her head and drops her forehead against my pec, sending a dangerous arc of energy through me. I swear if she puts her hands on me, I’m going to come uncorked.
With a frustrated groan, she says, “I know better. I really do.”
I raise my other hand and slide my fingers into her hair, tugging the band loose. The dark red waves tumble around her shoulders, making my mouth go dry.
Touching her like this is the last thing I should do. I need to take a goddamned walk and get my head straight before I make this situation worse.
She doesn’t need rough right now and that’s exactly what I’d be.
I exhale slowly and try to sound like a rational human. “He took you off guard.”
She pulls back and flaps her arms in frustration. “Still. If I hadn’t…”
“Did he hurt your arm? Because if he did, I’m going to rip his off. And even if he didn’t, I might rip his off anyway.”
“Now I know why they call you Beast,” she mutters.
I lift her wrist and inspect the delicate skin from her hand to her shoulder. When I see two dark red marks, I snarl, “Is this where he touched you?”
She punches me in the gut. “I hear you growling, Lucas. I’m fine.”
“Poppy, is this where he put his fucking hands on you?”
Her mouth hinges open, and I know it’s because I called her Poppy. I still can’t figure out her reaction to that. Don’t know if she likes it or if it rattles her.
After frowning, she declares, “I’m not talking about this.”
Camile has been avoiding looking at me since I pulled her close, and it’s making me crazy. I need to see in those windows, but what I really want is to see the truth she’s hiding from me.
But she keeps looking everywhere but at me. “Really, he didn’t hurt me. Why are you acting like a barbarian?”
“Because I am, Camile. Can’t you tell I’m nothing but a machine that’s made for war?”
She goes still. The pulse in her wrist kicks up beneath my thumb. “If you think that, then you’re completely wrong.”
Why is it so important for her to see me for what I really am?
So she pushes me away. That’s why. So she doesn’t let me inside. So I can convince her to leave and never look back.
Which feels like it might just kill me.
What kind of awful thing has invaded me?
A curse. It has to be. Payback for something. Karma. Cosmic justice.
I groan and drop my head back. While I’m staring at the ceiling, she pulls her hand free and plants both her palms on my chest.
“Go take a shower.” She tries with all her might to push me toward the bathroom. “Get cleaned up so I can take a look at your arm.”
I hook her around the waist and pull her into the bathroom with me. “You’re not going to be out of my sight.”
She rolls her eyes, closes her lids, and lets out a frustrated sound. “I’ll be right here, just in the other room.”