Page 49 of Blood Code

“And how do you feel about me?” I tapped my fingernails on the counter and tilted my head toward him. “How do you feel about marrying an Irish woman now?”

He grunted. “I hate it.”

My stomach clenched, and I turned away, pressing my palms flat against the kitchen counter, the cold marble grounding me.

“But I enjoy you quite a bit,” he said. “It’s rather unfortunate that you happen to be Irish.”

No, I happened to be half Russian, half Italian, and fully undead. Who knew if I were even human anymore?

“So what actually happened between you and…” My own name stuck in my throat. This was painful enough without pretending it wasn't.

“I hurt her worse than I could ever imagine,” he said, and I held my breath through the silence that followed. “And then she died, and I was never able to fix it.”

I had so many questions. When had he realized he wanted to fix it? Had it really taken more than three years to feel that way? What was he thinking when the Order raped me over and over again?

But most importantly, how could he ever think he could fix that?

Fury burned through my veins, and my hands started to tingle. The Fury side of me wanted to come out and play, but I had to tamp it down because it wasn’t time for him to know that Keira was the Ghost.

My grip tightened on the counter, but there was no steadying the chaos in my head.

No apology in the world could ever make up for the three years he left me to rot in the Order prison. Three years of rape, torture, abuse, mind control, and so, so much worse.

There was nothing he could say or do to change any of it.

It didn’t matter if Severin regretted selling me to the Order; he still deserved to die.

Get rid of her.

I gulped, then drew a long breath, remembering my purpose and letting it steady me. I forced a soft smile onto my lips and patted his shoulder.

That was comforting, right?

Ah, fuck. I didn’t know. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Better? Right?

“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “The point is that I haven’t been with anyone since her, and I will probably never be able to love you the way I loved her. And if you can accept that, then I will try to be the best partner to you as I can be.”

“What happens if I don’t accept it?” I laughed, trying to break the tension.

He laughed too. “I’ll still be good to you.”

“Well then.” I turned fully toward him. “I guess I’ll have to learn to accept it.”

He smiled, and I closed the distance between us, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Fiancées did that… right?

His hands settled on either side of my waist, and he spread his legs a little farther apart before pulling me between them.

A trickle of lust ran through me, and being this close to him was dangerous. My mind knew I hated him, but my body would always want him.

“Do you want to talk about what caused your panic attack?” he asked tentatively

My muscles went rigid. “Not really.” But I sighed. “I am afraid of kids.” I gulped. “I just don’t know how to act around them.”

There was so much more I could have said, but I kept it to myself. Things like: I spend all my time hunting and killing men, and I have absolutely no idea what to talk about with a kid. We could not discuss the best way to dissect a human eyeball.