The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood #16)(108)

But then he looked around the training center’s break room and reality’s most recent sequence came back to him: he and Marisol bringing her grandmother into the Brotherhood’s clinic; them receiving the good news that everything was essentially fine; the two of them coming to the decision that he and Marisol would stay through the day in case they were needed.

And then him sitting in this chair, and clearly passing out.

“Are you okay?”

He looked across the room. Over at the counter where the food was served, Marisol was putting things on a tray: two mugs that steamed, eggs, hash browns.

“Yes, yes of course.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“We’re both exhausted.” She came over and pulled another chair close. “So I guess they like breakfast for dinner here—and that works for me. I got enough for two.”

He wasn’t hungry, although that was not because he’d eaten anytime soon.

“Here.” She sat down and put the tray on her knees. “Drink this.”

He took the mug she offered so he wasn’t rude, but a couple of sips in, he decided it wasn’t a good idea. He was jumpy enough.

“Eggs?” she offered.

“Not at the moment. Thank you, though.”

“Like I said, I got plenty for both of us.”

“Thank you.” He sat back and concentrated on the warmth that was transferred through the mug to his palms. “You are very kind.”

As Marisol proceeded to eat, he wasn’t aware of there being any strained silence, but then she exhaled and stopped chewing.

“Look, I’m so sorry,” she said. “But you know she doesn’t mean it, right?”

Assail frowned. “Forgive me, what?”

Marisol put her fork down and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “That stuff my grandmother was telling you about marrying me or she’ll die? That’s all a bunch of bullcrap—she’s just playing with us. Not that that is an excuse.”

“She has done nothing to make me feel uncomfortable.”

“You sure about that? Because ever since she laid that on you, I’ve sensed the distance and strain, and I don’t blame you. Nobody needs pressure like that. I just want you to know that I do not expect anything. I’m happy to—you know, however we are is okay with me.”

Assail closed his eyes. Tried to speak. Failed.

“Wow,” she said dryly. “That bad, huh.”

He lifted his lids. “I am sorry—what?”

“Whatever you were trying to tell me back at your house. You know, before she collapsed.”

As she got to her feet, he sat forward. “Marisol…”

When he couldn’t finish things, she walked over to the refrigerator unit, where the Gatorades and the Cokes were. Staring into the display, without taking anything out of it, she murmured, “It’s all right if you’ve changed your mind. About us, I mean.”

“I haven’t.”

Marisol turned back around to him. “Yes, you have. I can see it in your eyes. It’s in your voice. It’s all around you. Something has changed, so which is it—whether you want me or whether you want out of the life?”

As he stayed silent, she shook her head. “Just so you know, either way I’m going to be okay. I will be perfectly fine without you—not because I’m not in love with you, but because I’ll be goddamned if I let anything other than a bullet take me down.”

While she was speaking, Assail focused on the side of her neck…the place where he’d bitten her.

“Will you please look me in the eye,” she muttered as she put her hand to her throat. “What the hell are you staring at?”

Assail wanted there to be another way. Prayed, once again, for some solution to come to him. Begged fate for a different path.

In the end, however, there was not one—and he simply could not keep going with the lie. No matter that it would cost him his female, or that there had to be a better time, she had a right to know.

“What,” she snapped. “Just say it.”

As Assail put his coffee mug down on the floor, he was very aware that it was going to be the last thing she ever gave him.

Shifting his weight, he rose from the chair and began to undo the buttons of his fine silk shirt, one by one.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “I am not interested in sex right now, FYI.”

Pulling the shirttails free, he went all the way to the bottom and then removed his cuff links, putting them in the pocket of his slacks. Opening the two halves of the shirt, he let it fall from his shoulders to the ground.

“Tell me what you see, Marisol,” he commanded.

“What?” Impatience had her shaking her head. “What the hell is this about?”

“Look at me. Look at me closely. What do you see.”

Her eyes made a cursory pass over his chest and his stomach. “I see a man. I see you. I mean, what?”

“Do you remember what I looked like the first night you came unto me here?” Her wince told him she did. “Remember what my body looked like?”

“You were sick.”

“Enough so that you thought I was dying, yes?”

“It’s why I made the damn trip.”