Free Back From Hell by Shiloh Walker Page A

hadn’t had a home since her parents had been killed. Mutinously, she continued to glare at him. “I lived there. I slept there. Stephanie cooked there. We liked it there. Felt safe there—it’s the closest I’ve had to a home in a damn long time. And we had to run away from it. And they shot my sister,” she finished with a hiss, rising from the chair and slamming her hands on the table.
    Ronan sighed, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. “Jenai, I’m starting to think you two were incidentals. They couldn’t have cared less about you. If you stay out of the way, maybe we can keep it that way.”
    “Incidentals.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, the ache in her gums all but driving her mad. Fury always brought out the worst in her, namely fangs and an insane rage to draw blood. “They shot my sister. Holy hell, even if they are after you, you expect me to just sit back mildly, as though it doesn’t matter?”
    Ronan’s brows arched over those lovely blue eyes. How in the hell could a man make her insane with fury and mad with lust all at the same time?
    “You mean to tell me it does matter?” he asked, his tone ever so mild and polite. “If I managed to get myself killed, then you are free of this new shackle fate has thrown around your ankle.”
    Her eyes narrowed. Jenai saw red. Her hands closed into fists, her nails slicing through her skin so that the scent of her blood filled the air. “You bastard. Just because I’m not happy fate has thrown you in my path doesn’t mean I want you dead.”
    “But you’d be free.”
    Her voice was low and hot with the anger billowing inside her. “I’ll never be free of you, no matter what happens to your sorry ass,” she snapped, spinning away from him.
    “Why, Jenai…I’m touched.” His voice was closer—damn but he moved quietly. Too damn quietly. And he was just at her shoulder. The heat of his breath whispered along her neck just before he crowded against her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.
    She was surrounded by him—but it didn’t feel suffocating, the way she would have thought. He felt so perfect, so much like the other half of her.
    “Tetched is more like it,” she said, her voice a bare whisper. “Don’t ask me to back away from this, Ronan. I can’t. This is my life and I’m tired of not having enough say in it.”
    His arms loosened around her as he sighed. Turning around, she stared up into his eyes. She wanted to hate how whole he made her feel. But whenever she thought about how she felt without him, that aching emptiness was enough to make her throat tighten.
    What had she had before him? Not much. Her sister was the most important thing in her life right now, followed closely by her own anger, her own drive to see her parents’ killer dead. After that? Nothing.
    How pathetic was that? she mused, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on his chest.
    His hand came up, cradling the back of her skull. “You know, if you had stayed so damn angry, I could have resisted.” His words stirred her hair as he spoke them.
    A slow smile curved her lips and she lifted her head, staring up at him. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
    Ronan laughed softly. “Disappointed? Well, I can’t say that’s the right term. I want you safe—but at the same time, I know you can take care of yourself. Maybe I just want to be the one taking care of you.”
    His words made something warm stir inside her. Nobody had taken care of her for some time. Even her mother had stepped aside once Jenai was trained. And she had been all of sixteen.
    His head lowered, his mouth covered hers. The way he kissed her was soft, gentle, so at odds with the way he usually touched her, all hunger and demand. As his hands threaded through her hair, she rose onto her toes, arching against him.
    Just as her hands curled in the soft cotton of his shirt, a soft moan drifted through the room, and slowly they parted, staring at each