Page 16 of Darkest Before Dawn (His Perfect Darkness #2)

I’m trapped. The words burst out of me, full of fear. “Don’t leave me. Inara, please, I’ll do anything. I’ll make any vow. Just, please. . . don’t leave me now.”

Inara

I can hear Rex’s desperation through the door.

“Don’t leave me.” He sounds like a little boy lost to a nightmare.

And isn’t that all we are, two orphans struggling through life, keeping everyone at arm’s length? Why would I expect him to be healed of his trauma when I’m still carrying around mine?

We are the same. And I would do anything to keep him from feeling this pain.

I wrench open the door, and he’s standing there, a few inches away, in an elegant suit that does nothing to hide the coiled tension in his muscles. His hair is mussed like he’s been running a hand through it.

He faces me, and even though his lingering gaze tells me he longs to touch me, he doesn’t move.

I stand in the doorway, clenching the doorknob. I should be running away from him. He’s made himself my enemy.

But then his cologne reaches me, and I sway on my feet. I’m tired of fighting. So very tired.

“Inara,” he says, and I can’t hold back any longer.

I go to him, close enough to feel his warmth wash over me.

Still, he doesn’t move.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, and I suck in a breath.

I didn’t expect the respectful question, and it is everything.

In this moment, in this familiar room, we’ve rewound to the time when we were just two scene partners on the brink of something exciting, something necessary.

Carefully negotiating so we didn’t harm the fragile connection growing between us.

“Yes,” I whisper and let him envelop me in a hug. I tuck my head against his chest.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get hurt, did you?” His hands roam over me. He puts some distance between us only to check for wounds, for blood.

“I’m okay. No one touched me. I opened the door and just couldn’t. . . I got overwhelmed.”

His lips press together. I can sense his latent anger, like an atomic bomb ready to be unleashed. But I know it’s directed at the killer, not me.

“I’m okay,” I repeat and lean in to hug him again. This time, his arms come around me slowly, almost reluctantly. He cradles the back of my head.

“You scared me.”

I can hear the fear of a lost little boy in his voice, and it melts me. But we both scared each other. “You locked me up. I had to escape.”

“What possessed you to go to the townhouse?”

“I wanted to check on it. If the killer dropped the letters there. . . ” I thought I’d get a psychic impression, and I did.

I just didn’t expect it to be so overwhelming.

“He’s fixated on me. There was a bird feeder, and I used to like watching the birds.

He must have poisoned them all and put them in the house—” I’m shaking, babbling, letting all the poisonous fear leach from me.

Rex murmurs soothing things and guides me to the couch. He’s still holding me, but he’s not threatening to lock me up, so that’s a win. Maybe I look too fragile right now.

I feel fragile. I’ve made a habit of falling apart in Rex’s arms. A day ago, he pleaded with me to let him be my safe place to land . I denied him at the time, but the truth is, he was already my safe place.

“Do you want this?” He shifts so he can pick up my mug.

I close my hands around it, cradling it like he cradles me.

“I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“I don’t.” I wrinkle my nose. “But I couldn’t get warm.”

He strokes my face. “St. James said you were shaking.”

I let my thoughts turn to the moments after I opened my townhouse door—the overwhelming darkness, like an oil slick coating my senses.

“I could feel him. . . his energy. His sick interest turning into hatred.” My stomach turns, but talking this out is helping.

And Rex is the only one I feel safe enough to share this with.

“He wants to be with me, but more than that, he wants to control me.”

I stare at Rex, realizing I could say the same about him. The difference is that I’ve always felt safe with Rex. Even after he locked me in a cage, I slept in his arms.

I’m more afraid of the intense swell of emotions I feel when I’m around him than I am of him. I’ve tried to avoid feeling anything for anyone. Then Rex burst into my world and made me feel everything. Of course it’s frightening. It’s new.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s not your fault.” But I can tell he’s taking the blame.

“I failed to keep you safe.”

I hand him my tea so he can set it down, then cup his face between my mug-warmed palms. “You can’t shield me from everything.”

The sculpted planes of his face harden underneath my hands. “I’ve sent a team to lock down the townhouse. They’ll analyze the scene, dust for prints, and clean it up.”

I drop my hands and sag into him, feeling even more relief. On the long car ride from Roy Manor to the city, I allowed myself to wonder what it would be like to work with him to solve the case. To use his lab, his tech, his unlimited resources. I bet he’s already surveilling half the city.

“They’ll need to send anything they find to the department,” I say.

He hesitates, probably thinking about how that will put me in the middle of a murder case. Again. But he says, “Of course. It’s your choice.”

I lift my head. “Really?” I never thought I’d hear him say that, not after everything he did to stop me from leaving his house.

He doesn’t look happy, but he bows his head in a reluctant nod. “If it’s what you want, I’ll comply.”

It’s what I want to hear, but I don’t know if I believe him. “What’s changed?”

“I realized you’ll keep running from me if I continue to push too hard. You’re stubborn and will probably run right into danger.”

I huff. I could say the same about him.

“And if I lock you down, a part of you will die. I’m not willing to live without any part of you.”

He’s going to try to control me no matter what I do. I have nothing to lose if I simply surrender.

I take his hands. They’re large and capable, and was it only a few weeks ago that I didn’t allow him to touch me? Now I can’t imagine going any length of time without his hands on me.

“Rex, I need to tell you something.”

He holds his breath as if waiting for a blow.

“I can’t fight you anymore.” I pick up his hand and hold it to my cheek, needing his comfort as I admit, “I can’t win, and even if I could, I don’t want to anymore.”

“What do you want?”

“I want. . . I need you to help me. I can’t do this without you.” The darkness I felt at my townhouse is gone, obliterated by Rex’s presence. I need him.

Without him I won’t survive long enough to do what I need to do.

Without the pressure banding around my head, my tears are leaking out. I haven’t cried for so long—not since my aunt died.

I fight my tears back, letting my words rush out of me.

“I don’t want anyone else to live through this nightmare, Rex.

Please, please, just help me.” I give up and press my face to his strong shoulder.

He’s so solid, his free hand tracing comforting circles on my back.

Our bodies are always so in sync; why can’t the rest of us fall in line?

“Of course, I will,” he murmurs. “Inara, I’ll do anything for you.”

My breath shudders out of me. I let my tears disappear in the dark fabric of his expensive suit and raise my head. Time to negotiate terms. “I need to go into work.”

His hand on my back stills, but he says, “All right.”

“And you can’t come. You can’t interfere with the investigation.”

“You can’t stay at your townhouse. Your room at the Hotel Magnifique is always available for your use.”

I take it as a good sign that he’s not ordering me to stay there.

“All right. Then that’s where I’ll sleep. It beats a giant golden birdcage.” The joke slips out before I can stop it.

The side of his lips quirk.

“Where did you even get a cage that big? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just don’t lock me up again.”

“I’ll try.”

I shake my head at him, almost smiling as we fall into our familiar pattern of banter. “You’ll try? You, the great Rex Roy, who succeeds at everything?”

“Not everything.” He sobers and kisses my hand.

I bite my lip, remembering the accusations we threw at each other in the heat of the moment. I need his help, but I don’t trust him anymore. Not like I did.

But maybe we can start over.

“Truce?” I turn my hand over so he can shake it, and he does.

“Truce.”