Page 59 of Shattered Veil
“What?” I ask, quivering.
“I want you,” he utters. “Every inch of you. Bruised skin. Healed skin. Tattoos to cover his sins.”
“Balor,” I go breathless. “You want me, but you’re...”
“I’m your boss.” Icy anger seeps into his tone, his inner struggle apparent.
“For now,” I challenge him, because I don’twantthis job.
I want to go back to Fredricks Elementary.
Balor stares at me, pensive, with the weight of the world, or at least a mountain of problems, playing out on his face. He’s figuring it all out. Me and him. How we make this work.
I can’t push, especially since I don’t know what I want or what I can give, emotionally speaking. All I want is something physical with Balor because he makes me feel alive.
“Are you coming with me?” I ask.
“Where?” He strokes my ponytail, twisting it in his fingers.
“Inside? Shopping?”
“You want me to?”
I’m aware it’s Thursday, the day he meets with his brothers. “If you’ve got somewhere else you’d rather be.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
A woman emerges from the store and waves.
Balor scoops my hand into his and steers me to the entrance doors. “Erin, thanks for meeting Ella here.”
“She doesn’t work here?” I turn to Balor.
“I’m a stylist for Shea-Lynne O’Rourke. Brides mostly.” Erin beams at Balor.
“I’m not looking to get married. But I do need to refresh my wardrobe.” I refuse to repeat where all my other clothes are.
“I can help you with that.” Erin opens the door. “Balor, I got this.”
I stiffen, thinking he’ll leave me.
“I’m staying. For a while. To make sure she’s comfortable.” His arm winds around my waist.
Erin’s face turns pensive like she knows his history. “As you wish.”
The name of the store doesn’t sound familiar and it’s not a chain. Once inside, the high-end fixtures and displays, rival the snazzy Manhattan boutiques. The designer brand names suggest how precious I am to Balor. That he wants me to have this level of luxury. And the help of a stylist to rebuild my wardrobe.
My eyes slip closed, hating that I’m being treated like an injured kitten. I’m off my game because Wes can be anywhere. In Sydney, I felt more like my old self and used my strength to heal from the superficial wounds.
Now my father and Balor want me on lockdown. Am I not seeing the potential danger the way they are?
My fingers tighten around Balor’s hand, and he reacts to the change in pressure. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh,” I choke out, but I’m having a panic attack.
“What do you need, hun?” Erin asks, swiping an iPad.
“A little bit of everything,” I say, feeling overwhelmed already.