Let the Night Begin by Kathryn Smith

Even with their past taken out of the equation, her devotion to James was reason enough not to trust his own well-being to her.
    His own strange devotion to her was why he had agreed to help her find the boy. The need he had to somehow atone was what made him go against his own judgment and offer his assistance.
    Instinct told him she was a threat. Instinct told him to put his hand around her throat and squeeze until she woke up in a panic and confessed whatever it was she was up to. She would have greater reason to fear him then, wouldn’t she, as he crushed the life from her?
    Who was he trying to fool? He could never intentionally hurt her physically, not like that. He would defend himself if she attacked him, but he could never instigate violence against her, despite what she may believe.
    Although he sure as hell did a good job of hurting her.
    If she was anyone else and made him feel this threatened, she’d be dead by now. But perhaps she was aware of that. Perhaps sleeping with him was all part of her plan to lull him into trusting her again.
    Rubbing a hand over his jaw to ease the tightness there, Reign pushed these dark thoughts away. He had to keep his mind open and clear. Paranoia would only cloud his judgment and he couldn’t afford such a weakness.
    Not when his greatest weakness was gently snoring only a few feet away.
    Everything about her was just as he remembered, only the reality was far more painful than memory. The feel of her, her touch and taste was so achingly potent. It hurt to look at her. This vulnerability was not welcome.
    He took her by the shoulder and shook—perhaps a little rougher than he should have. “Wake up.”
    â€œMmnn.” She rolled away from him and burrowed deeper into her pillow.
    Reign ground his teeth at the sight of her bare back, the gentle indent of her spine. Her skin was a soft rose-gold, soft and shimmery in the mellow light. His fingers itched to touch her, his tongue wanted to taste her—right in that little indent at the top of her arse. That perfect, heart-shaped part of her that filled both his hands.
    He shook her again, and said loudly, “Liv, for Christ’s sake, get up.”
    A deep scowl etched between her brows, drawing them close as she opened her eyes. “What?”
    She never had reacted well to having her slumber interrupted.
    â€œWe’ll be in Edinburgh soon,” he informed her as he tossed several of her undergarments on the bed. “Get dressed.”
    Still scowling, she slid out of the bed. Her hair was a mess, most of the heavy mass having slipped from its pins, and she was still wearing her stockings and boots. One of her garters had slipped and the fine silk of one stocking sagged around her calf. She looked like a whore. She also looked so damn sweet he wanted to haul her against him and kiss her—touch her until she was wet and begging for his cock.
    And then he’d tease her about it later just to seethe ire bright in her gaze. She hated when he teased her. She never quite understood what it meant. Neither had the girls in his village when he teased and tortured them mercilessly with boyish enthusiasm. That same enthusiasm had often earned his father’s wrath.
    â€œWhat time is it?” she asked as she stepped into her drawers. A thick lock of hair fell over her shoulder to curl around her breast, and suddenly Reign’s trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight.
    â€œJust a little past two,” he replied, watching her dress despite the damnable erection he was sprouting. “We should arrive at my home around three.”
    â€œLong before dawn,” she remarked—more to herself than him.
    Folding his arms across his chest, Reign leaned his shoulder against the gleaming paneling. “And in plenty of time for you to make your rendezvous with the kidnappers.”
    She stiffened—just for a second, but he noticed it all the same. “Yes.”
    â€œAnd