Page 50 of Devil's Property

Jago and Kruz looked at each other and I threw out my finger.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” I warned.

“Not a thing,” Jago mused, his eyes indicating he was more amused than usual. “You’re not going to tell me who she really is. Are you?”

“I don’t know for certain she’s not who she purports herself to be and simply got caught up in a dangerous operation.”

“Then why are you helping her?” Kruz asked.

As I took a deep breath, Jago lifted his glass. Both men knew the answer.

Because she’d resurrected something from deep within.

Unbridled, unwavering, and all-consuming need.

CHAPTER 14

Fallon

The room was as garish as every other I’d walked into, but also very cold.

Lavishly decorated in shades of royal purple, the room appeared designed for a king. For several reasons, I wondered if Navarro had selected this room himself or had simply picked one with the intention of limited sleep.

There were no photographs on the internet of his place of residence in Barcelona, which made me wonder what his home would look like.

With guards outside the room, I was going nowhere. And in truth, I was finished with attempting to escape. Seeing the cut on Navarro’s face, the bruise that was forming just above his cheekbone was a limited but definite illustration of how violent the attack had been.

It was also a reminder of the life I’d been swept away from.

I’d walked in on my father accidentally, witnessing his brutality toward a man who worked for him. Up to that point, I’d thought my father was just like every other kid’s. I’d heard rumors, even at my age, but nothing had mattered because up to that point, my father had walked on water.

It had been my mother who’d sat me down, explaining that there were rooms in the house that I wasn’t allowed to go into.

That had been three weeks before she’d… never returned home.

Shivers were continuously trickling down my spine and I headed to the windows. I’d never felt so alone or so out of touch with reality. Of course the phrase was overused, but in my case, the statement was the best way to describe my emotional state.

Cold.

Alone.

Unsure of who I was.

Of whom my father was.

And I was very much afraid.

A slight squeak of hinges drew my attention first. I was able to gather Navarro’s scent before I laid eyes on him. He smelled of musk and testosterone, of blood and sweat, gunpowder and leather. The combination was far too indulgent. There was something even darker and more commanding that indicated danger.

I shouldn’t feel any attraction let alone the deep grinding and highly toxic vibrations continuously sweeping through me.

Yet I couldn’t deny the powerful draw we shared.

Finally, his silhouette appeared, highlighted by the moon and the single lamp I’d turned on after being escorted to my prison that was much nicer than before.

He was completely silent and the only sound I heard was the rapid beating of my heart. As soon as I turned to face him, he closed and locked the door behind him. With the even darker look in his eyes, the simple act appeared sinister.

His jaw was clenched and as he walked closer, I sensed he was still determining how to handle my punishment.