Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)(52)

“I’m not getting married without underwear. Or without my gun. Not with wild animals on the loose.”

He took a step toward her, his mouth compressing dangerously. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do.”

She threw the gown on the floor. “Go to hell.”

He lunged for her, grabbed her arm, and hauled her roughly against him. “I don’t like this any better than you do, but it’s either bind yourself to me or die. I gave you the choice already. You chose this. You chose me.”

“I was delirious.”

His jaw went hard as he released her with one hand and flicked open a switchblade three inches from her face.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.” The tightness of his mouth spoke of barely leashed violence, but in the agitated flutter of those angel wings in her head she sensed an unhappiness as raw as her own. He was being forced to tie himself to a woman he didn’t love.

No, not forced.

He could have let her die.

Her fury ebbed as her heart began to ache for him almost as much as herself. “Would you really kill me?” she asked quietly. She already knew the answer.

The anger drained out of him as he retracted the blade and shoved it back in his pocket.

“No.” He released her along with a sigh that echoed with pain. “But if you won’t go through with this, I’ll have no choice but to step aside while someone else does. The survival of our race is too important.” He shook his head. “Not just to us. If we die, there will be no one left to keep the Daemons from returning. Imagine thousands of creatures terrorizing the human population. Creatures worse than my twin. A dozen times worse.”

She shuddered and stared at him, her mind struggling to accept round after round of evidence that the world was so much more complex than she’d thought. “So I really don’t have a choice?”

His mouth turned rueful. “You really don’t.”

“But you do. A human death can’t mean that much to you. Why bind yourself to me when you could have let me die? When you don’t want me?”

His mouth turned up in a wry half smile. “Who says I don’t want you?”

As she stared at him, he bent down and picked up the gown, then met her gaze again, his expression softening just a little. “Come on, D. Let’s get this over with.”

It wasn’t quite the marriage proposal she’d dreamed of, but there had been something in his expression, something in his words that eased the ache inside her. Not much, but maybe it was enough. Especially since she clearly didn’t have a choice.

“I need to get cleaned up.”

He handed her the gown and nodded toward a door in the corner. “Bathroom’s in there. I’ll see if I can find you a brush or something.”

She nodded and took the gown from him. As he started to turn away, she stopped him. “Tighe?”

He turned back to her.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For not letting me die.”

His gaze seemed to search hers for several moments, then he lifted his hand and traced her cheekbone with his thumb in a feather-light touch. “You’re welcome.” Then he turned away.

Delaney opened the shower curtain to find a host of items on the sink that hadn’t been there when she climbed in. A toothbrush still in its wrapper, a comb and brush, a hair dryer. Beside them lay a small zipper pouch she discovered contained a small collection of makeup basics. Someone else’s collection, by the looks of it.

Staring at them, she was reminded how little she knew the man she was supposedly marrying. Did he have a girlfriend? A dozen girlfriends? With looks like his, she’d be amazed if he didn’t.

Was he in love with someone else? Was she doomed to have to watch him parading other women through her life?

The ache in her chest tightened, annoying her. The only way she was going to survive this was to stop caring. Hadn’t she learned that lesson when she was eleven? The only way to survive, period, was to stop caring about anyone.

Which had always been easier said than done.

After she dried her hair, she put on a little makeup, then slipped the blue silk over her head. The sleeveless, scoop-necked gown slid sensuously down her body to midcalf, skimming her curves but not hugging them tightly. The color was gorgeous on her. A perfect nightgown. But she was far too busty ever to consider leaving the bedroom without a bra, especially in a gown like this. It would only highlight every bounce and jiggle.

Just the dress a man would pick.

With a sigh, she opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

Tighe turned from the window to face her. “The dress looks good on you.” His tone was still reserved, but there was a truth in his words that warmed her. Heated her.

“Thanks. It’s a beautiful nightgown. Just how many people are going to see me in it?”

“Five, other than me. And it’s not a nightgown. It’s one of a collection of ceremonial gowns that have been passed down for thousands of years.”

Delaney jerked. “This dress is not thousands of years old. It would have disintegrated eons ago.”

“The fabric was woven with power and magic, as well as silk. That’s why nothing else can touch your skin during the ritual.”

Power and magic. She shivered. “Not even my gun?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Especially not your gun.”