Burn by Maya Banks Page B

the door, sliding the deadbolt into place, and then he too entered her living room. A room that suddenly seemed way smaller with him in it. He stood there, staring at her, his gaze relentless as he did a thorough up-and-down of her body, stopping once again on the bruise on her cheek.
    His eyes grew cold and she shivered.
    “I haven’t heard from you,” he began.
    She flushed guiltily and lowered her gaze, not wanting him to see all she wanted to hide.
    “And now I’m thinking there was a reason you haven’t called me.”
    Slowly she nodded, still not meeting his gaze.
    “Josie, look at me.”
    His voice was soft. Gentle even. But it was definitely not a request. It was a command. One she felt compelled to obey.
    Slowly she lifted her head so their eyes met.
    “Who did this to you?”
    Gone was the gentleness, replaced by an edge of steel to his tone. His entire body vibrated with fury and it made her hesitant to tell him what had happened. How she’d ever thought him not dangerous or perhaps charming or affable she had no clue. Because the man standing in front of her right here, right now, looked capable of terrible things.
    And it wasn’t that she was afraid of him. No, she knew instinctively, even as she was shrouded in fear over what had already happened to her, that this man would not hurt her. But he was angry. Angry didn’t even begin to describe what she saw in his eyes. And he absolutely looked capable of killing someone. She found herself not wanting to tell him, because she feared not him, but what he’d do.
    “Josie, answer me,” he said through his teeth. “Who. Did. This. To. You.”
    He wasn’t going to allow her not to tell him. And though she didn’t fear reprisal, she knew she absolutely had to obey him. He wouldn’t allow her to duck the question. She firmly believed he’d stand here all night, do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
    She closed her eyes and exhaled in a long, weary sigh, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
    “Michael,” she whispered, her voice so low she could barely hear it herself. Maybe she hadn’t even really voiced it.
    “Say that again?”
    The words whipped from his lips, snapping through the air with enough force that she felt them. She chanced a glance up and immediately flinched at the look on his face. It was . . . terrifying.
    “You heard,” she whispered in only a slightly louder voice.
    “You’re telling me that motherfucker put those bruises on your face? That he split your lip?”
    He advanced and she rapidly took a step backward, which only seemed to piss him off even more.
    “Goddamn it, Josie, I’m not going to hurt you! I’ll never fucking hurt you.”
    The words were explosive. Not exactly soothing and yet she took comfort in the vehemence with which he made the vow. So much so that she took a step back toward him so they now only stood a foot apart.
    His entire body still vibrated with rage. His green eyes were nearly black, the green just a thin ring around the dilated pupils. And then he raised his hands, slowly, as if he feared frightening her. He cupped her face in his palms, his touch infinitely gentle, and she didn’t know how he could possibly pull that off when the rest of his body was taut with fury and his expression was so black.
    But that touch was so exquisitely tender that she literally melted into his hands. She felt no pain even though her face was still painful to touch several days after the incident. He brushed his fingers over the bruise and then traced the split at her lip, so lightly that she nearly didn’t feel it.
    “I’ll kill him.”
    Ash’s voice was absolute. The resolution in his voice made her blood chill in her veins because she believed him. In this moment, she believed him absolutely capable of killing the man who’d hurt her. Her pulse leapt and her breathing accelerated as panic shot down into her belly.
    “No! Ash, please. Just let it go. This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Why I