What was real? What could I believe?
“Why the fuck are you mentioning astrology?” Kill demanded. His fingers wrapped around my throat.
My skin prickled with heat. Every inch he touched set off a bonfire beneath my skin.
“You’re fucking with me. If you think I’ll let you play with my thoughts—” His anger welded with… Was that terror?
The lost look in his eyes came and went, like a dying firefly.
“You’re nothing to me—got it? You don’t know me. You don’t have any power over me. And you certainly can’t mind-fuck me with whatever bullshit you’re trying to pull.” He lowered his lips to my ear, breathing harsh. “Why the fuck would you say that?”
I couldn’t answer. My racing heart stole all capability of speech.
“Answer me, goddammit,” he roared. “Now!”
Everything he said—it was a lie. He felt something when I mentioned his birthday. He reacted to something hidden in his past. His anger was a front—a terrible wall around the intense historic pain blazing in his eyes.
“I’m not playing you,” I whispered. “Please, tell me what you know.”
He reared back, his face bloodless and savage. “I’ll never tell you anything, because you aren’t her, goddammit. It’s a fucking trick. A cruel, vicious trick.”
My heart cracked open, spilling its life force. I would’ve given up ten years of my life just to see what he hid from me.
Suddenly, his fire burned out and he slouched on top of me. His fingers unraveled from around my throat, and I sucked in a greedy breath.
He passed out, the barest whisper on his lips. “You’re not her. You’re not my Sagittarius.”
I froze, willing his breathless confession to awake something inside me. I squeezed my eyes, letting his unconscious bulk press me harder against the tiles.
Please, remember.
My brain ached; my eyes bruised.
Sagittarius and Libra.
Nothing.
Pain leeched through me. The fireflies of truth I’d seen in his eyes fluttered around us, dispersing faster and faster with every uneven breath.
Kill’s hips pressed against mine—a large belt buckle digging against my tender flesh. Despite being almost unconscious and full of pain, his masculine form woke the dormant femininity inside me.
I couldn’t ignore the maleness between my legs. Or the scent of him—of midnight winds and ocean—beneath the leather and blood. My senses were alive and sparking—drinking him in.
I twisted and wriggled, trying to get free. I had to heal, had to fix, before he disappeared forever. Because one thing was for sure, I wasn’t going anywhere. The flashback had cemented my decision. Regardless of my future.
His love for someone—for her—only strengthened my resolve to hammer him with questions until I got answers.
Kill’s eyes popped open, glassy and heavy. His hips spasmed, rubbing against mine.
I bit my lip, hating how the small action sent electricity lighting up my bloodstream.
He raised his head slowly, blinking and looking drugged. The haze of his injury was thick; I worried the next time he passed out, he wouldn’t wake.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I whispered. Hating how my voice had become soft and malleable. Every inch of him turned me from victim to seductress against my will. My fingers ached to run through his thick, long hair. My nipples tightened to feel his chest pressed firmly against mine.
I shouldn’t be thinking of sex. But it was all I could focus on with how close we were.
His eyes tore wide, drenching me in green moss. “You’re not in a position to—to bargain.” He winced, his teeth snapping together in agony.
Keeping my voice low, I murmured, “I’m in a perfect position to bargain. If you don’t let me stitch you up and get you into bed, you’ll pass out again, and I’ll be long gone by the time you wake up.”
I’m not leaving until I understand.
His eyebrow quirked, even as pain laced his features. “You should leave. It’s obvious I won’t be able to stop you.” He sighed, dropping the pretense of angry biker. “Why are you still here?”
“You know why,” I breathed. Please, tell me why.
He shook his head. “You…” He stopped, changing his mind and muttering, “Hang on, you said you want to get me into bed?” His hips flexed, testing me.
I knew I should act repulsed, horrified, and rage against him taking advantage of me—but I… couldn’t.
I wouldn’t play games. I had too much to lose and everything to gain by being everything that I was. I wouldn’t hide the fact I found him intensely attractive. I wouldn’t try and pretend that I didn’t want him—all of him—including every memory he kept hidden.
My world had shrunk from family and friends and a career I didn’t recall, to him. Just him and me. Here and now.
Truth was the only way forward.
I never took my eyes from his. “You’re focusing on the wrong part of that conversation. If you don’t let me help you, you’ll die.”
“And that would work in your favor, so why do you care?”
“I told you. I care because I have questions, so many questions, and you’re the only one around to answer them.”
He grinned, but his face lost its energy, going slack once again. “I don’t have the answers you need.”
“I think you do.”