He’d barely slept, and his dreams had been abrupt and violent — more nightmares than anything else — but Lianna was in his arms. His angel. She was curled into a ball, his arm around her ribs. Too thin. She’d lost weight in the weeks since everything had exploded, and he was forcing himself not to breathe too deeply out of fear of waking her. For once, he just wanted to watch her at sleep, her features serene, her body molded to his.

Peaceful.

It was troublesome to realize that he’d never seen her like this before. She had always been awake and terrified. Angry, or cold, or in pain. Guilt pulled at him again and he gently drew some of her hair off her face. There were parts of him that still craved her pain, her screams, and another completely oppositional piece that only wanted her happy, pleasured, and moaning.

Maybe this was why he’d never attempted relationships.

Well, this and the whole obsessive plan and stalking he’d been doing since he had been old enough to help his father. Fuck. Both of their lives were a wreck, and she was right. He’d been aware of it for years, had lost whatever childhood he may have had to the pursuit of Alain Faure, and Lianna’s childhood was a farce. It had probably been filled with extravagant gifts and trips and toys that other children only dreamed of — but it had been with Robert Mercier. The man who had killed her mother, and kept her blind to the evils surrounding her, leaving her open for him to take her.

Lianna groaned in her sleep, and David realized he’d tightened his arm as he’d been thinking about everything. About her, about their pasts, and what he’d done to her… it made him want to pull his touch from her completely, just as much as he wanted to pull her closer and bury his face against her neck to breathe the sweet scent of her skin.

One thing was clear, he didn’t deserve her. Never had.

Not out of vengeance. Not out of hate.

Not at all.

But he still wanted her.

It made the heat of her skin feel like a brand against his, yet he was happy to burn as he kept them close together. With one elbow propping his head up, he was able to study the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the soft pinch of her features as something happened behind her closed eyelids. Golden hair in a tangled cloud around her head, she looked exactly like the tainted angel he’d told her she was. And if he burned in hell for what he’d done, for enjoying this moment with her, he’d accept it. He’d walk into the flames with his head held high.

He just hoped that the devil would wait to collect his dues.

“Hmm?” A soft murmur escaped her, and then she yawned, jaw stretching so wide he thought it might crack, and then he found himself yawning as well. She twisted, curling into his chest, and mumbled sleepily, “Morning.”

“Morning, angel.” Brushing her cheekbone with his thumb he leaned down to kiss her softly, and she smiled against his lips.

“You stayed.”

“Did you think I was going to leave?”

“I thought you’d run as soon as you could.”

“Not a chance, beautiful.” Pulling his fingers to the tip of her chin, he pinched lightly to lift her eyes to his. “Do you still want me here?”

“Don’t start that.” Lianna groaned and pulled her face from his fingers to turn and bury it back in the pillow, her ass pressing against his hips as she burrowed into the covers.

“Start what?” he teased, gliding his touch down to her waist so he could grind his growing cock into the tender flesh of her backside.

“The martyr shit.”

“Who’s being a martyr?”

“You,” she clipped, snagging his hand as he moved to slip it between her legs. Lianna rolled enough to meet his eyes again. “I know this is crazy, so I don’t need you pointing it out too, alright?”

“I didn’t say anything about crazy.” Even though this is.

“Right.” She tossed the covers aside and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed in a quick swing of her legs, but before she could stand he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Ignoring the argument from his back, he pressed a hand to her sternum, teasing the base of her throat with his fingertips.

“Listen to me, Lianna. I didn’t lie when I said I wasn’t a good man. I’m not, and I’m definitely not going to let you get away with acting like a brat just because I feel guilty.”

Wide, blue eyes stared up at him for a second before they narrowed. “I thought you didn’t regret what you did to me.”

“Different things,” he answered, tracing the hollow of her throat with one finger. “I can feel guilty for assuming you were aware of all of it, for hurting you because of that, but that doesn’t mean I regret taking you, or telling you the truth.”

“Semantics.”

“Yes.” His eyes roamed down her body, cock twitching with the urge to be inside her again. “But words matter, sometimes they’re all you have.”

“And your words are that you feel guilty for what you did to me, but you’d do it again?”

“Absolutely.”

Lianna drew her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling it as her eyebrows pulled together, and he had the strongest urge to pluck it free and bite it himself. Take her mouth, slide between her thighs and claim what was his. She reached up and pushed his hand away, sitting up on the bed so that all he saw was her back in the dim light of early dawn. “You’d do all of it again?” she asked, facing the thin curtains over the window.

“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Fuck,” she cursed softly, pushing a hand through her tangled hair. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked as Lianna stood, the soft angles of her body in shadow.

“You don’t need to do anything. I’m not telling you to leave, I just—” Turning to face him she sighed, that look of concentration still etched into her brow. “I just need to think for a minute. Alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” David nodded, and she walked around the end of the bed towards the door on his side. “Mind if I make a phone call?”

“Go ahead.”

“I need your phone, mine wasn’t in my stuff.”

“Shit, that’s right. Uncle Mi— Michael, shit, Joseph, or whatever his name really is, destroyed it with the rest of the stuff you had down there. Said you might have had recordings of the calls on it.” She pointed to the door. “My phone is in my purse, passcode is four seven twenty-two.”

“Four-seven-two-two, got it. Thanks.”

Lianna stepped inside the bathroom and then paused and glanced at him. “Just don’t do anything fucked up with it, okay?”

“Sure.”

The sound of her cursing under her breath as she shut the bathroom door almost made him smile, he could feel his lips tugging upwards, but he eased himself out of bed before he could give in. Standing beside it, toes digging into the carpet, he finally noticed the room. Lianna had taken every scrap of his attention since she’d woken up, and before that the room had been too dark to notice all of the colors.

But there were so many.

Her bedroom was cobalt blue, vibrant, with framed prints of paintings covering the walls. Their colors popped in the early light — oranges and reds and purples. One was a still life of flowers and fruit, a ripe pomegranate split open on its side. Another was a whimsical splash of paints, possibly a print of another Pollock. There were portraits and landscapes and a large tribal looking mask hanging beside her bed, above the stained glass style lamp on her bedside table. The bedding was a pattern of mint-toned leaves over a tan background. None of it seemed to match at all, and he liked it.

Liked it a hell of a lot more than the sterile, bland look of the rest of her spacious apartment.

Shaking his head, he wandered out into the living room to collect his boxer-briefs from the floor so he could tug them on. As he stared down at the pale couch memories threatened to overwhelm him. Memories of her kissing him, of her climbing on top of him because she wanted it, the feel of her skin against his... none of it felt real. It shouldn’t have been real.

“And yet it is,” he muttered under his breath as he turned away. “Who’s the crazy one now?” David rolled his eyes as he looked for her purse. It was still on the edge of the counter where she’d abandoned it, and he nudged it open so he could dig out her phone. Tapping in the code he tried to avoid looking at her apps, or any notifications she might have, and pulled up the phone screen to dial the number.

It rolled to voicemail and he hung up and dialed again. “Come on, old man, I’m sure you’ve been losing your shit. Answer the damn phone.”

“Hello?” The gruff voice was wary, but David still felt the tension ease a little inside his chest as he heard it.

“Hey Harry.”

“David? Is that you? What blocked number are you calling from? Where the fuck are you? What the fuck happened?” Harry’s voice gradually grew more irritated with each question, and it made him smile as he started to poke through Lianna’s cabinets.

“Yes, it’s me, and I don’t think you’d believe me even if I told you where I was.”

“Are you okay? Are you somewhere safe?” Concern warred with the irritation in his tone, reminding him of his own father. Bittersweet.

“I’m fine, healing up, and I’d say I’m about as safe as I deserve to be.” The only threat in the apartment was Lianna, and if she decided to kill him he still hadn’t decided if he’d try to stop her or not.

As he opened another cabinet filled with nothing but dishes and glassware, he knew his brain was leaning towards letting her do whatever she wanted.

Guilt was annoying as fuck.

“Healing? What do you mean? What happened?”

Cursing, David shut the cabinet door a little harder than necessary and opened the next to find her liquor stash. “I took a bullet, but I’m fine.”

“You got shot?” It was Harry’s turn to curse on the other end of the line, while David gave up hope for food in the cabinets and opened the narrow pantry door. The shelves were mostly empty. A can of coffee, a few spices, an opened box of microwave popcorn, a package of cocktail napkins, and a stack of hand towels.

Where the hell is her food?

“It’s not a big deal, Harry. I’m fine.”

“Not a big deal? I swear, if this has to do with you-know-who you’ve painted a damn target on your back. If you killed him… dammit, David, this is not what your father would have wanted!”

“It wasn’t me, Harry.” He sighed as he opened the fridge and leaned down to stare at more empty shelves. A handful of salad dressings, a few take out containers, and a carton of half-and-half.

“Swear to it. Swear on your mother’s grave that you had nothing to do with this shit.”

David cringed and shut the fridge to lean back against it. The mention of his mother was still like a knife twisting deep, even though the bastard who’d ordered it was dead. “I swear I didn’t kill him. On my mother’s grave, I swear. All right?”

Harry let out a long breath. “Okay. That’s good, that’s very good. But it doesn’t explain how you got shot.”

“I was protecting someone,” he answered, and saying it aloud felt… nice. Despite all the bullshit between them, he still cared what Harry thought of him.

“What? Who were you protecting?”

Grinning, he cracked the knuckles on his hand as he debated whether or not to tell him, but her name found its way to his lips anyway. “Lianna Mercier.”

“WHAT? I thought you, fuck, David, I would have sworn you’d been the one to take her. I’m so relieved to know that it was—”

“I’m not saying you were wrong, old man, I’m just saying that in the end I took a bullet for her.”

“Jesus Christ.” There were a few more muttered curses he couldn’t make out, but eventually Harry groaned. “I don’t want to know what you did, but she’s his only daughter. You’ve got to know she’s connected, that she can come after you too.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard considering I’m at her apartment right now.” He chuckled as his eyes landed on the coffee maker and he decided that putting coffee in their stomachs was better than nothing.

“Listen to me. You need to leave. It’s over, you’ve done more than enough for your parents and that girl doesn’t deserve—”

“Calm down. She invited me here.”

Harry was silent for a moment as he set up the coffee to brew. Finally, the man spoke again, “Why would she do that?”

“I did save her life.”

“Who tried to kill her?” Harry’s voice was hushed, low.

“Who do you think?” he asked, and the curse that answered him was surprising.

“Mercier was going to do a murder-suicide with his own daughter? That… that’s fucked up.”

David didn’t bother to correct his assumption. “I think she’s safe for now.”

“For now?” Harry muttered again. “How much does she know? Enough to cause trouble?”

“She knows enough to understand why things happened the way they did.”

“Look, I’m sure you’ve been watching the news, but she’s at the center of this. Being anywhere near her is putting yourself at risk. You need to walk away.”

David opened his mouth to answer, but movement caught his eye and he watched Lianna walk around the corner from the hall, her gaze finding his over the bar. “I don’t think I can.”

“You need to, that family is powerful. If she had anything to do with her father… she’s a walking target. Just let it go, let her go, and leave.”

Lianna braced her arms on the bar, hair still damp, wearing a simple navy top that scooped low enough to tease at the swell of her breasts. Beautiful. The crease between her eyebrows only made him want to smooth it away. “I know, but that’s exactly why I can’t.”

“David—”

“I have to go. I’ll call you when I get a new phone.”

“Please, listen to me. You don’t want to get involved in this shit!” Harry sounded desperate, but there was no helping him now. It had been instinctive to protect her, even after everything he’d done, it was like his mind had decided for him when he’d put himself in the path of the bullet, and it felt the same way now. He had to stay, had to make sure she was safe. She was still too blind, too naïve to handle what was coming, and like she’d said the night before… he knew all of the darkness. He’d always known, and she was so damn innocent.

“Bye, Harry.” Pulling the phone from his ear, he hung up and deleted the number from her call log. The coffee maker beeped and he smiled at her. “I made coffee. I was going to make breakfast, but you don’t have any food in your apartment.”

“Who was that?”

“An old friend. I figured he had been worried about me, and I was right.” Moving to the cabinet that held her coffee cups, he pulled down two identical white ones. “Want a cup of coffee?”

“What were you two talking about?” Lianna was focused on him, and he felt that strange protective urge again.

“Nothing important. I’m guessing just half-and-half in your coffee? I didn’t find any sugar.”

“You went through my kitchen?” she asked, accusation in her tone, but he just chuckled as he poured.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“If you’ll give me my phone back I can order us some breakfast.” Lianna held out her hand, sighing. “And yeah, half-and-half is fine.”

David placed the phone on her open palm before he swung by the fridge to grab the cream, adding generous amounts to both cups. “So, you’re just going to order us breakfast?” he asked, setting her coffee in front of her.

“You may have noticed, but I don’t really cook.”

“I did.” He couldn’t help but smile into the cup as he took a sip, the heat of it sinking into his hands and warming him from the inside out.

“Don’t smile at me like that. I’m guessing you’re some secret chef, and those sandwiches you gave me were just part of your torture plan?”

The laugh escaped him before he could stop it, and then he laughed harder when she glared at him before staring down at her phone. “No, angel, I’m not a chef, but I get by. I didn’t exactly grow up with the money to just order in for every meal.”

Lianna swallowed and shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it’s not like I had anyone to teach me.”

“I’m not judging you, angel. It makes sense.” Bracing himself against the counter he watched as she scrolled through something on the little screen. “So, what’s on the menu?”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Honestly, I’d like to take you back to bed, spread you out, and lick you until you’re screaming my name…” He grinned as a blush turned her cheeks a deep pink. “But, since I think you’re talking about eating breakfast, I’m starving. Eggs, bacon, pancakes? The whole nine-yards.”

“Um, okay. Just, here, take the phone and choose what you want.” She held it out, and he took it from her shaking hand.

“If you’re worried I’m going to force you into bed, I’m not.” He stared down at the phone so he didn’t have to look at her, guilt stabbing at his ribs, making his lungs feel tight. “I won’t do that.” Again.

He left the last word unspoken as he scrolled through the menu of some local restaurant, adding one of the breakfast plates that appealed to him, along with a side of hashbrowns. When he tapped the cart he saw his order, and a single order of egg whites with fruit.

“Is this seriously all you plan on eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit, you look like you haven’t eaten well in weeks. Too thin.” Saying it aloud made him remember the way her hipbones had been a little too sharp, the skin over her ribs missing that feminine layer that left them smooth. Gave him something to squeeze, to hold onto.

“There’s been a lot going on.”

The snark in her tone made him chuckle, and his hands tingled with the urge to grab her. One fist in her hair so he could bend her over the side of the chair he’d sat in, and then he’d spank her bare ass until she struggled. Until she screamed, and cried, and fought him — and then he’d fuck her.

No.

“I’ve seen the news, and I’m ordering you real food anyway. Then you’re going to eat every bite.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can.” Deleting her order, he moved back to the menu and ordered her an omelet with meat and veggies, a whole-wheat English muffin, and a side of fruit. Nothing ridiculous, but enough real calories and protein to help her fill back out. Confirming the order, he handed her the phone. “And I just did.”

“God, you’re an asshole.”

David smiled into his coffee, watching her stare at the order.

“I can’t eat all of that.”

“Most of that is for me, but you will eat what I ordered for you.” Pointing at her cup, he tilted his head towards it. “And you need to finish your coffee.”

“You need to stop telling me what to do. I’m not your prisoner anymore,” she hissed.

“I know.” The words sobered him, but he wasn’t backing down on the food. “You’re still going to eat while I’m here, but… you can always just tell me to leave.”

“And you will?”

“Absolutely,” he answered, even though his stomach tightened at the idea. Shit. He really didn’t want to leave, and after the call with Harry he’d been reminded of exactly why she shouldn’t be left alone.

“Tell me what you were talking about on the phone.”

“No.”