Page 16 of Branded By Shadow
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
My shoulders go tight.
“Don’t be. It’s old.”
“Old doesn’t mean gone.”
Sharp little thing.
Too sharp.
I look at her then, and for the first time all night she doesn’t seem like just a reckless woman who stumbled into a trafficking operation. She looks like someone who knows the shape of being left. Different wounds. Same language.
Maybe that’s why she charged after Brianna with no plan.
Maybe she knows what it feels like when nobody comes.
Her stomach growls.
Loud.
Violent.
The moment breaks.
She claps a hand over her middle, eyes going huge. “That was the plumbing.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“This room is old.”
“That was you.”
“You can’t prove that.”
I look down at her stomach, then back at her face.
Color rushes into her cheeks.
Damn.
I want to put my mouth there. On the blush. On the freckles. On the pulse jumping in her throat. Want to pin her against the door and find out if she still mouths off when my hands are on her hips and my beard is scraping the inside of her thighs.
My blood heats fast and mean.
Wrong time.
Wrong place.
No.
Not wrong woman.
That’s the problem.
“You eat today?” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder. “I work in a diner. I taste things.”
