Page 52 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

forty-nine

Declan

“That’s what we’re flying in?” Soren’s voice trembles a little as we pull into the airfield and stop in front of the jet.

“Only the best,” I assure her drily.

I’d rather have flown commercial, but the flight times didn’t align with our needs, so I begrudgingly let them send the jet.

She’s quiet until we climb out of the car and stare at it up close. Soren looks like she’s squaring up against it.

“It’s so… small.”

“Ouch.” I wince. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to remark on the size of a man’s jet?”

When understanding takes root, her eyes go wide. “A private jet? As in… just us?”

“Just us.” I confirm, trailing my fingers up the back of her thigh. I stop just short of reaching her ass, but she doesn’t let go of the breath she’s holding. “You and me, forty thousand miles above the ground in a tin can with nowhere to go.”

She doesn’t manage to suppress her shudder but softens when she sees the pilot and stewardess waiting at the foot of the steps.

“Mr. Evers,” The pilot smiles, sticking a hand out for me to shake. “Welcome aboard, sir.”

“Declan.” Soren says, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s correcting him. Simon’s eyes slip to her and he releases my hand to shake hers instead. “And I’m Soren.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss.” He tips his hat, and I notice how his touch lingers, his fingers slow to pull back from her skin. I stare at him until he notices and drops her hand like a hot coal, wiping it on the leg of his pants.

“I’m Elize.” The stewardess smiles brightly. “Be sure to let me know if you need anything.”

Something in the way her voice lilts when she says ‘anything’ makes me wonder just how literally she means that. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an orgy plane and the staff were just swingers used to people wanting to join the mile high club.

I gesture for her to grab Soren’s bag, which is arguably heavier than mine. Mine just carries more precious cargo; I won’t be letting it out of my sight.

Simon steps aside to let us climb the steps, and I wish for just a moment that I hadn’t suggested Soren change out of the dress. I’d have a pretty great view of her ass climbing the stairs if I hadn’t.

She sucks in a breath when we reach the top, stopping directly in the entrance.

“Soren,” I prompt.

When she turns to face me, her eyes are wide with fear so profound it actually makes me feel a pang of sorrow for her. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Her lip quivers a little, tears lining her lashes despite her effort to blink them away. “I’m claustrophobic.”

“Oh?”

I pat her shoulder and pass her so I can set my bag down near the couch.

Honestly, as far as planes and jets go, this is pretty spacious.

My benefactors spared no expense in their choice of finishings—every surface gleams under the light from the bulbs recessed in the ceiling.

I turn back to see that Soren hasn’t moved—she looks ready to bolt back the other direction, except Elize is standing in her way.

I guess she really is claustrophobic… either that, or afraid of flying.

“Come along,” I tell her, gesturing to the empty chair next to me.

When Soren doesn’t immediately obey me, I sigh. It would be so much easier to just drug her and throw her on the bed for the duration of the flight but given how she looked this morning after suffering last night’s substance abuse, I don’t think that’s our best option.

“Do I have to pick you up and carry you in here? Because if I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from throwing you over my lap.”

A wobble of her chin is the only sign of defiance I get, and then she puts one foot in front of the other, catching and releasing the same shaky breath the whole way down the aisle.

When she finally sits stiffly on the edge of her chair, I wonder if she’s planning to stay there the whole time.

I don’t know if she’s bothered to try and work the time span out in her head, but just in case, I lean across the aisle toward her conspiratorially.

“ Relax , Soren. It’s only a nine hour flight. We’ll be there before you know it.”

“ Only nine hours?” She looks a bit green.

I hope she doesn’t get motion sickness as well or the breakfast I coerced her into eating may come back up. The emphasis on ‘only’ tells me that what I consider to be an easy flight, she does not.

“Yes.” I nod. “Nine hours. If you wish to try and sleep through it, there’s a bed at the back of the jet.

” I don’t bother telling her I personally wouldn’t lie in it if my life depended upon it.

Sure, they’d bleach the linens and clean everything up, but that doesn’t change what I’m sure happens in there.

“No,” she sounds as repulsed by that idea as me. “No, I’ll just…” Soren looks around her, noting the cashmere and leather, a mix of elegant and stately.

“I could think of a few ways to pass the time.” I shrug, waiting for her to catch the innuendo. “I promise, the last thing you’d be thinking about is how small and confining this plane is.”

I almost feel bad when she whimpers, but the blood that rushes to my cock keeps me from feeling too guilty.

It’s such a sweet sound, not one of pain, but of defeat.

Defeat is all I want from her—all I’ve wanted from the start.

I want this crazy woman with all of her chaos to admit that she jumped into the ocean without knowing how to swim.

I want her to confess that she’s in over her head, to declare me the winner in a war I’m not sure she realizes we’re fighting.

“There you go again.” She says, like she was simply picking up from an earlier point of conversation.

“What?” I prompt, genuinely unsure what she’s talking about.

“With your… sexual advances.”

“Sexual advances?” I laugh.

It sounds so clinical… so emotionless . What I feel for her is many things, not the least of which is complicated.

Apathy is nowhere on my list.

“Yes,” she nods soberly. “You keep making sexual innuendos despite telling me you won’t actually act on them.”

That takes me by surprise enough that I laugh and lift an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t say I’d never act on them.”

I think she sounds like she’s in awe of me when she chuckles. “Your HR department must hate you.”

“No,” I shrug. “In fact, they’ve all loved me.”

She prepares to argue that point but sighs instead.

“You meant that literally, didn’t you?” I don’t bother asking her to elaborate, and I don’t bother trying to hide the smirk.

It’s enough of a confirmation for her. To my surprise, she actually laughs and I see her hands unclench, the subtle release of tension from her shoulder. “You slept with them all?”

“To be fair, I started hiring men for that department when I recognized the pattern.”

“Oh,” she laughs. “Well, we love a self-aware king.” The tone of her voice emphasizes her mockery of me, just in case I didn’t detect the sarcasm. “So did you sleep with all of them too?”

“I’m not interested in other men.” I tell her calmly. “And for the record…”

She glances up at me and when her eyes catch mine, there’s something there—under all the stress and mental pain, under the chaos and the ever-changing landscape of her feelings for me, there’s a glimmer of something I can’t quite put a name to.

“I’m not interested in every woman I meet, either.”

Soren looks like she means to say something, but she bites her lip instead and looks out at the ground still, for now, under our wheels. Focusing on something beyond the window seems to ease her nerves, but when she blinks, it’s as if a spell is broken and her panic comes back in spades.

“So?” I venture. “What do you say? Let me take your mind off flying?”