Page 4 of Exiled

You pull away, and look at me once more.

And then I watch as the mask clicks into place. I can almost hear theclink-snickof the armor plates touching and fusing.

And I wonder . . .

Did I speak the wrong name?

Chapter

Three

You roll off me, slide off the bed with slow, languid, lithe movements. Stand up, move to the doorway. You are silhouetted. Thick thighs. Taut calves. Round, iron-hard buttocks. Back a rippling field of muscle. Broad shoulders, brawny biceps cut from living marble as if by Michelangelo’s very hand. You clutch the doorpost, sagging for a moment as if weak. Turn your head slightly, almost but not quite looking at me. Face in profile.

I think you are about to speak. You even open your mouth, but then... you straighten. Iron turns your spine rigid. Shoulders go back. Head up.

And you turn away from me. Vanish.

I hear my door open, close. Hear the elevator.

And I am left to wonder: What just happened?

Who was that in my bed, making love to me? That was not Caleb. But it wasn’t Jakob, either. It was some chimera of the two. And now he is gone. That was a man I would have... the thought pierces me... a man I could have fallen in love with. I wanted to know the source of his pain. I wanted to heal him. Protect him. Comfort him. Hold him close and know his secretsso I can tell him I love him for them, in spite of them, beyond them.

But he is gone.

Shoved back down into the depths of your unfathomable soul. Locked away behind the iron mask you wear.

A thought occurs to me:

I just had sex with Caleb. Again.

I fell under his sorcery. Again.

But it wasdifferent, a part of me argues—

He faced you; he did it naked; he held your eyes the whole time;

itmeantsomething—

Everything inside me crumples, and collapses.

Suddenly, I am sobbing.

Who am I?

What kind of woman am I that I could make love to the man who has so continually lied to me about who I am?

That man. God, that man.

You.

You hide me from me. You lie to me. You obfuscate. You refuse to answer. You run away rather than just tell me the truth. Why?Why?What horrible secret lies in our shared past that you are so afraid of me knowing?

And how can I allow you to take my body and use it at your desire? How can I allow you tofuckme again and again and again, knowing nothing will ever change?

You killed Logan.

Logan.