Page 158 of Savage Hearts

Near dawn, he rises from bed and stands naked at the window, staring out. His hands clench and unclench, as if he needs to hit something.

“Sweetie? Come back to bed.”

Without turning, he murmurs, “Let me ask you a question,malyutka. If you had a choice between keeping something precious to you safe, but safety would mean letting it go forever, or keeping it in constant danger, but having it close to you, which would you choose?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Yes.”

“Like if it was you?”

He braces an arm against the wall, bows his head, and nods. His demeanor scares me. I know this isn’t a simple hypothetical question. He’s weighing a choice, and it has to do with me.

I say firmly, “I’d keep it in constant danger.”

His laugh is low and mirthless. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re not that selfish.”

“Yes, I am. Iam.”

He turns to look at me. In the lifting gray light, he’s as beautiful as he always is. His eyes are burning. “You’ve never lied to me before.”

“I’ve never felt like it was necessary. What’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer. Avoiding my eyes, he goes into the closet, emerging quickly, fully dressed. When he disappears into the kitchen, I fly out of bed and get dressed, too, then follow him, trying not to panic.

I find him standing at the kitchen sink, staring down into it, unmoving.

“Mal. Malek.”

He doesn’t respond. It royally pisses me off.

“I’m going to stand here repeating your name until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Sounding resigned, he says, “I have to go back into town again. I left something at the grocer yesterday.”

“I’m coming with you.”

He turns his head and peers at me. His expression is unreadable.

“I’m coming,” I insist. “If you think you’re leaving me here after dropping that bomb about letting something precious to you go forever, you’re nuts.”

A smidgen of my panic is relieved when he smiles. He says softly, “All right,malyutka. You’ll come with me.” He holds out an arm.

I cross to him and hug him, wrapping my arms around his back and burying my face in his chest. My words are muffled by his shirt. “When we get back, will you promise to talk to me?”

He draws a deep, slow breath. When he exhales, he whispers, “I promise.”

I don’t understand why it sounds so anguished.

The drive into town is spent in silence so loud, it’s deafening. I sit right beside Mal, gripping his hand, shooting an occasional worried glance at his profile.

It’s as hard as granite. He’s unreachable, retreating somewhere inside his head where he obviously doesn’t want me to follow.

I know this new distance has to do with his call with Pakhan. Maybe Mal’s in trouble. Or maybe there’s something exceptionally dangerous he’s been tasked to do. The specifics don’t matter to me as much as why he won’t talk to me about it.

His silence is the terrifying part. He’s up in his head, playing with his monsters, and he won’t let me in.

We arrive at the grocer as they’re unlocking the doors. Mal parks the truck in front, shuts off the engine, and says, “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”