Page 68

It’s a good thing Hale had taken my ammo, because when I’d woken up from that nightmare, gasping and sweaty, I’d reached for my goddamn gun.

Carefully, I sit down on the railing, uncomfortably narrow for my ass, with my bare feet swinging out below me. I slow my breathing and lean forward, arms stretched behind me to keep hold of the railing.

Even if I didn’t die, the pain would have to be better than this.

I sit up and pull my hands in my lap as I wrestle with every courageous part of me, searching for the nerve I’ve never been able to summon.

When an arm bands around my stomach and a warm hand grips me by the throat, I don’t even scream.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, cockroach?” Roman’s voice whispers in my ear. His beard tickles the side of my face, and the heat of his body presses up against my back. The hand wrapped around my throat squeezes gently, tilting my head backward against his broad chest.

He smells like blood.

“None of your business,” I murmur, and his grip tightens.

“My kill, my business,” he says, and his breath against my flesh makes me shiver.

“Maybe I want to help you with your to-do list,” I say, and he’s pulling me off the railing. My ankles scrape against the metal painfully as he drags me backward. I think he’s going to put me down, now that he’s removed me from immediate danger, but he doesn’t. He carries me like this into the penthouse through the repaired glass door.

“You think that fall would kill you? You think these pills will?” he asks, easing his grip on my neck so I can look down at the spilled bottle of antidepressants scattered across the coffee table.

Zuul pads down the hall, peeking his head into the living room, and doesn’t even bark. Roman tells him to go lay down, and the fucker obeys.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself with the pills,” I say. “I’m a vampire, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like I can overdose on Prozac.”

“How many did you take?” he asks anyway.

“None today. I took a few last night.”

“Define a few.”

“Three, maybe? Four? I’m not dead, so I’m sure it’s fine. I figured just one wouldn’t work on me anymore, so I’ve been taking a few each time.”

He releases the grip he has on my throat, turning me to face him, but he grabs my upper arms as he stares me down.

“And they’re all over the table because?”

“Why do you even care?” I ask, glaring up at him. When he doesn’t ease up, I swear before answering. “Zuul’s tail knocked over the bottle, and I guess I didn’t put the lid on all the way. I didn’t feel like cleaning them up.”

Roman peers around the penthouse, seeing the mess that spills into the hallway leading back to the primary bedroom. He must decide that my story adds up based on the filth.

“Explain what you were doing outside.”

It can’t possibly be concern that coats his words with irritation, so I’m not sure what the fuck his problem is.

“Your kill, your business?” I ask, shrugging out of his grasp and crossing my arms.

“That’s what I said.”

“Do it then. Kill me and make it your business.”

His jaw tightens, and I can’t breathe. A heart races, but I can’t tell if it’s his or mine. Something like elation fills me because I think he might just do it. With a lowered brow and darkened eyes, his gaze lingers on me before he turns toward the door he’d just dragged me through. He runs a hand across his forehead and slides it down his face and over his beard. Roman sighs, and I appreciate the moment to take him in.

Roman is beautiful. His hair is pulled back like the last time I saw him, and I wonder if he did it on purpose because of my reference to his slutty bun. Beneath his leather jacket, he wears a fitted t-shirt—blue this time. Dark jeans hug his unholy thighs. An intricate tattoo twines up his neck. He’s perfect, and if anyone is going to kill me, I hope it’s him.

He’s thinking about it, aggravation pulling his body taut, and I decide to push him to the brink.

“I’d kill your dad all over again if given the chance.” When he gives me a dubious look, a single brow raised, I don’t allow myself to falter. My eyes water, and I’m shaking. I need him to want this just as badly as I do. “I’d hold Remy hostage too. I wouldn’t change a thing about what I did,” I say.