“And you couldn’t have just trusted me with this? You couldn’t have just told me? Did it never occur to you that maybe I could help? That maybe I could talk to my father, convince him—”
“It’s too dangerous. I would never risk you like that.”
“But you agreed to kill me,” I spit.
“That was before I knew you, knew who you were. And unless I’d found out that you and your father were liabilities, I had no intentions of killing you.”
“Why should that matter? If I’m a threat, I’m a threat.”
“I didn’t know for sure if you were. I came to find out if the Colonel was dirty. I knew I’d find out about you, too. But you’re not. You never have been. Your father sent you away because you were in danger and he knew it. He must’ve suspected something all those months ago. But even if you had been a threat, I wouldn’t have cared. I could never hurt you. Not now. Not after . . .”
I hate that my eyes sting. I hate that my feelings ache. I hate that my voice trembles. “And yet you’ve done just that.”
“Not because I wanted to. I just didn’t . . . I didn’t know how to tell you. Or even if I should. You’re only hurt because you know that there was a time, even though it was before I met you, when I might’ve done things to hurt you and the people you love.”
For some reason, that makes me prickly and defensive, even though it’s basically true. If I’d never found out, I’d have gone on blissfully ignorant, just as I’d been earlier today. And yesterday. And the day before that. Never knowing that Jasper came into my life with the intention of killing my father and me if he had to.
But I did find out.
And, as irrational as it might seem to him, I can’t simply pretend that nothing has changed.
“Maybe that is part of it, Jasper, but that’s not all of it. I think the worst part is that I trusted you. I believed you. And I fell—”
I won’t tell him again that I fell in love with him. My pride had taken a back seat before, but now it’s making itself known. And it’s wounded.
Jasper’s voice is low and defeated. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m the worst thing in the world for you. But I promise that I’ll do right by you and then you’ll never have to see me again.”
To this, I say nothing.
Why is it that his promise makes me feel worse rather than better?
THIRTY
Jasper
My antennae twitch when I pull up outside the Colonel’s hideaway and find every light in the house on. Not very subtle for a man trying to fly under the radar.
I pull to a stop almost a block away and turn to wake Muse. She finally fell asleep almost an hour ago. I let her rest. She’s been through a lot today. She’s been through a lot the last several days, actually.
I don’t blink at the pang of guilt that stabs at my insides. I deserve every bit of anger and disgust she’s throwing my way. Probably more. If I’d been a halfway decent person, I’d have left her out of this after I met her, even though she was leverage for getting what I wanted from the Colonel. But even if I had made the same choice, I didn’t have to compound things by sleeping with her. I didn’t have to make things so much worse. But I did. Because I couldn’t resist her. Because she awakened some part of my heart, of my soul that I wasn’t sure I even had. She made me feel and, as much as I knew it was a bad idea, the lure of what she offered was just too much, too good. She was like fresh air to a man who has been locked in a basement his whole life. She was like the warm glow of a fire to a man whose heart turned cold a long time ago. She was like everything I never knew I wanted, served up with big green eyes and a sexy-as-hell smile.
I never knew I had an Achilles heel. Because I never knew Muse.
Until now.
But now I know. And where do I go from here?
I cut the engine and wait to see if she wakes. She doesn’t, so I speak her name softly, so as not to startle her. “Muse.”
She makes a little mewing sound and turns her head in my direction, but her eyes are still closed. I reach out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, the back of my finger grazing the silk of her skin. “Muse.”
She leans into my touch, her subconscious not nearly as averse to me as she seems to be in her waking hours. Her lips curve the tiniest bit and she makes a sighing sound, like she did when she was open to me earlier today.
A lifetime ago.
Her response makes me hard and achy, and grumpy as shit.
Since my right hand is trapped between her cheek and her shoulder, I ease my other onto her neck on the other side, trailing my fingertips over the soft, warm skin. “Muse, wake up.”