Spider Game
Page 90

“What the fuck do you think you were doing?” The words hissed out of his mouth. Low. Lethal. It felt like an explosion in his chest. His chest hurt more than any injury in his life had ever hurt him, and he’d had plenty.
Cayenne frowned at him. She studied his face for a long time. He remained still, just inside the door, every muscle locked in place.
“Are you angry with me, Trap?”
She sounded shocked. Innocent. As if she didn’t know she was his entire world and she’d nearly allowed a bullet to take her from him. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.
“What the fuck do you think, Cayenne?” He bit the words out, enunciating each. His breath came fast, as if he was running through the swamp again, running to keep those soldiers off of her.
Trap leapt across the room and yanked up the thin tee she was wearing. One of his old ones he’d carelessly left behind when he’d packed to move to his new home. Packed to move wherever the hell Cayenne was, because even then, he knew she was home.
“Hell yes, I’m angry. Have you looked at your body? That bruise covers your entire chest. Both breasts.” He yanked the covers down to expose her legs. “Your thigh. You could have been killed.”
She touched her tongue to her top lip. Then outlined her bottom lip. He wanted to lean down and bite that full lower lip and if she kept it up, that was exactly what she was going to get. Hard. He was going to bite that lip hard and leave his mark on her.
“Trap.” Cayenne said his name gently. “I’m perfectly fine. If I hadn’t covered Nonny like I did, they would have killed her. They weren’t only coming after me. I feel things and their energy hit me before the bullet was fired. I had a much better chance of survival than Nonny.”
He crouched beside the bed, his face inches from her. “You fucking don’t get to take that chance. Your life isn’t yours anymore. You need to get this right now, Cayenne. I’m not fucking around with you. You belong to somebody. That somebody is me. You gave yourself to me. You let me believe I could fucking live again, not just exist. Not walk around like a fucking zombie. I could live. You did that. That gives you responsibility to keep yourself alive. Not throw your ass in front of bullets because you think you’re fucking invincible. You’re not.”
“Trap.” She whispered his name, reached out to touch his face.
He couldn’t bear her touch. Not right then. He would shatter into a million pieces if she touched him. He batted her hand away.
“Don’t try to sweet talk your way out of this. If you didn’t have bruises all over you, I’d bend you over the bed and use a fucking strap on you. You wouldn’t sit comfortably for a couple of weeks and maybe you’d think about what a fuckup this was every time you tried.”
She touched her tongue to her upper lip and then moistened her full lower lip with her tongue. He was up abruptly, pacing away from her, fury riding him so hard he shook with it. She just sat there, looking innocent. Not comprehending the enormity of what she’d done. Not understanding what she was to him. Not feeling the same way.
“I have to get out of here. I’ll be back to get you in a little while.”
“I’m going with you.” Cayenne flung the covers all the way from her body and swung her legs off the bed to the floor.
“You’re not.” He glanced over his shoulder and nearly froze. Every muscle locked in place. Her face was set in stubborn lines. That beautiful face, heart-shaped, her silken skin inviting touch. Eyes large, a vibrant green framed with impossibly long, thick, black lashes. Straight nose and that exotic, perfect mouth. Her chin was up in a line that challenged any man.
“I am.”
The roaring in his head increased. “You don’t have one fucking ounce of self-preservation in you, do you?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Lifted one hand to the mass of dark hair falling around her face, down her back and pooling on the sheets. Her hand actually shook, and the vulnerability there on her face and in that action caused his heart to seize in his chest.
“I had to sit here knowing you were out there, Trap, with soldiers I brought here. Soldiers bent on killing everyone. Soldiers you were facing in the swamp while I was lounging around in a bed. So, yes, I’m going with you, and I’m going to make certain I have you in my sights for as long as it takes to get rid of this terror inside of me.”
She stood up. Trembled. He was there instantly, settling his hands around her upper arms. His fingers closed around her silken skin. He felt the movement of muscle beneath his vise-like grip, but she didn’t pull away from him. She was cold, as she often was and actually leaned into his body for warmth and shelter.
His heart contracted. Hard. Tight. He tightened his grip on her, not knowing what he was going to do. Not trusting himself. For the first time, he was afraid for her. Really afraid. She’d made him open himself to her. She became part of his life. Not just part. She became his life. She acted instinctively and she’d almost been killed. That was a part of her character.
She’d lived in a little cell thinking of herself as not human. As an experiment to be studied. She’d been pitted against teams of trained soldiers determined to kill her, and she’d come out the victor. She was fearless in battle.
“Damn it, Cayenne, you aren’t disposable. Your life is worth something. Everything. You can’t keep thinking the way you do.”
She tilted her chin at him, her green eyes searching his face. Brooding. Moody. Those lashes fanned the high cheekbones concealing the brilliant green of her eyes and raised again to reveal multifacets. Gems of emerald. His breath caught in his throat. This woman was his. She was his everything, and she went into battle prepared to die. Fearless because she didn’t believe she had anything to lose.
“You have me to lose, Cayenne,” he corrected. “You die, and what the fuck do you think is going to happen to me? You can’t give a man who had nothing everything, and then take it away from him. You don’t get to do that. I lived in a void. It was a kind of hell, and maybe I thought I belonged there because I didn’t die with my family. I believed for so long I didn’t deserve a damn thing because if I hadn’t lived, they wouldn’t have touched my aunt. I had nothing. Nothing. Do you fucking understand that? I had nothing until you gave me you.”
She took a breath. He could see her pulse pounding in her throat. He wanted to bend down and lick it. Taste her skin. Taste her passion. But he couldn’t because she’d been shot. Twice.