Page 106 of Merciless

I blink and look at him. “Yeah. I think she’ll appreciate your help.”

He beams a smile. “Good. Are you going to the claw game, or are you done for the day?”

I grin. “Oh, I’m not done. I’m going to win that plushie today.”

I leave the arcade empty-handed and annoyed.

How hard is it to win the plushie? I’m still convinced the game is rigged.

I feel him before I see him. The tiny hairs on my nape rise, and goosebumps scatter on my arms. I raise my head and meet a pair of dark, brooding eyes.

Elijah ditched his contacts again, sporting his glasses and leaning against his car parked by the curb. He folds his arms against his chest and stretches his legs out to take up more space, one over the other. His sharp gaze tracks my every move as I walk toward him, and his lip curves in a subtle smirk like he won some bet that I’d change my direction and go straight to him.

But there is no bet, and I’m headed straight for him for a different reason.

Talking with Shane helped clear my head. Why stand in my own way when this is what I want?

Each step toward him relieves the suffocating worry and guilt from my chest and shoulders. One by one, the worries lift until I’m light on my feet and giddy about the promise of being with him.

I grin. “What are you doing here?”

“Driving you back to campus.” He stretches his arm and pinches my shirt between his fingers to drag me into him. “Don’t I deserve a kiss for that?”

My smile widens. “Do you want a kiss, Elijah?”

He groans and drags me into him. His hand cups the back of my head, and his mouth descends on mine. It’s quick, but every bit demanding. I clench my fingers into his shirt, not wanting it to end, but he pulls away and smirks down at me.

“You know I have capable feet, right?” I whisper.

“I do, but I want to spend time with you.”

I smile and lean into him.

His eyes flick from side to side, and his features soften.

“What is it?” I say.

He grins and cups my cheek, his thumb stroking me. “You have the prettiest smile.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. “You look good in glasses.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t compliment you to earn one. But thank you.” He eases me back and glances at my empty hands. “You didn’t win the plushie?”

I shake my head. “That’s what you want to talk about?”

“What is it you want to talk about, birdie?”

“This.” I gesture between us. “Whatever this is.”

His mood shifts, and his gaze darkens. “You don’t know what we are?”

He says it so softly, barely a whisper, but loud enough for me to hear. Elijah plays with a lock of hair framing my face, focusing on that like it’s putting him under a spell.

“We never put a label on it,” I say.

He releases the lock and looks me in the eye with a smirk. “You’re mine, birdie. My girl. My property. My everything. That’s what we are.”

My heart pounds against my chest, and I burn from head to toe from the shock overtaking me. I’m rendered speechless at Elijah’s claim.