Page 165 of Arrow

Arrow’s laugh was more breath than sound. “God help us all.”

He kissed me with tenderness, then pulled away. “There hasn’t been anyone else since the day our families decided we would marry. Not for me. I need you with me on this. Not just for show. Really with me.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the tide of emotions threatening to drown me. “I’m with you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Prove it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How?”

Arrow reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace I’d ripped off my neck. “Turn around,” he said.

Turning around slowly, I lifted my hair off my neck.

His lips brushed the nape of my neck as he secured the clasp. “Atlas and Luna invited us to dinner,” he said. “Tonight. Luna’s craving osso buco.”

“I need to shower.”

35

THIRTY-FIVE

HARLOWE

Ipawed through the closet for something to wear, finding a black long-sleeved dress with a high collar and a slit up the right leg. I paired it with heeled boots, a bold red lip, and soft makeup, and let the A pendant fall down the front of my dress.

Arrow watched me from the doorway, his eyes tracking every movement as I slid the lipstick across my mouth.

“What?” I asked, catching his reflection in the mirror.

“Nothing.” But his face said everything.

He wore black pants with a black shirt open at the collar, his tattoos peeking out. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his forearms and the expensive watch on his wrist. Even when Arrow dressed in a deceivingly simple way, he somehow still looked dangerous.

Arrow approached me and wrapped his arms around my stomach, his eyes drifting from my stomach to meet my eyes in the mirror. “Try not to mention the Kovenskis. Atlas isn’t happy about the situation.”

“Atlas isn’t happy? Join the club,” I muttered, securing my earring. “What am I supposed to talk about? The weather?”

His fingers traced the chain around my neck. “Talk about the wedding. About how excited you are to become my wife.”

I snorted. “No one would believe that.”

“Make them believe it.” His voice dropped lower. “Make me believe it.”

Turning to face him, I searched his expression for any hint of mockery, but found only sincerity. For once, I kept my bitchy retort to myself.

“I could burn the world down for you,” he continued. “I might have already started.”

The words caught in my throat. It was the most honest thing he’d ever said to me, and I didn’t know how to respond. What do you say to someone who admits they’d burn the world for you? Someone who might already have struck the match?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

Arrow’s thumb brushed over my bottom lip, smudging my carefully applied lipstick. “It means I’ve made choices. To protect what’s mine.”

“What kind of choices?”

He stepped back, breaking contact. “The kind we don’t discuss before dinner with friends.”

“Wait!” I followed him into the bedroom. “You can’t just drop that bomb and not spill the beans.”