“You’re going to do exactly what I say.”
I try to shake him off, but he’s too strong. My face burns everywhere his fingers touch the skin. I look into those deep, dark eyes that pin me in place, more powerful than his grip.
“You tried it your way,” Cole says. “Now it’s time to try mine.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re going to move into my house, tonight. I’ll send someone to pick up your things. You’re going to stay with me, right by my side, every fucking minute of the day so I can keep you safe. And when it’s time to deal with Shaw . . . that’ll be my way, too.”
“You want me to move in with you? That’s insane.”
“Do you want to stay alive? Or do you want to become Shaw’s next painting?”
“Don’t joke about that,” I snarl. “Don’t talk about Erin that way.”
“It’s no fucking joke. And it’s no game. You pull another one of your stunts running off without me, and Shaw will gut you like a fish. I’m the only one who can protect you. Unless you want to take a chance on Officer Hawks,” Cole sneers.
I take a deep breath, considering my options.
They’re few in number, and unattractive to me.
What am I supposed to do, go home to the Victorian, avoid Joanna, sleep in the room where Erin was killed? Hope Shaw waits a few days before he comes back to finish the job?
On the other hand . . .
I saw Cole’s face when he strapped me down to that table. When he took control of my body, until I couldn’t think or even breathe, until he wrenched my deepest secrets out of me and I was limp and helpless, begging for more…
We won’t be roommates.
More like teacher and student.
Mentor and protégé.
Sculptor and clay.
The breath comes out in a long sigh, a silvery plume in the cold night, my soul exiting my body.
Cole stands still, waiting for me to decide.
Clenching my fists at my sides, I say, “I guess I don’t have any choice.”
Cole smiles, his teeth gleaming in the dark.
“Don’t you ever believe that, Mara. This is what gives us power: we always have a choice.”
He holds out his hand to me, palm upward, his long, slim fingers pale in the moonlight.
“It’s time to make yours. What will it be?”
I take his hand, his fingers closing around mine.
“Take me home.”