Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(14)

I decided to fill the silence with another issue.

“So I’ve been thinking about the divorce papers, and I’m not certain how to proceed? Do I get a lawyer? Which sounds stupid because I don’t own anything that you want, and I certainly don’t want anything from you. Do I need to find the papers at the inn or can a second set be sent to me?”

Cain stared at me, as if he didn’t understand the basic English language. I had been rambling; my words coming out too fast and too close together, but his blank look had me worried he hadn’t heard me. Then his eyebrows pinched and he uncrossed his thick arms that had been shielding his chest. He had a new tattoo, I noticed. I am my brother’s keeper. I didn’t know enough of his story with Abel. I couldn’t imagine he felt responsible for anyone but himself.

“I already have a lawyer. He can handle everything,” he finally spoke, his voice rough.

“I promise I don’t want anything from you,” I said, my voice shaking. For all my bravado, I suddenly had a sinking sensation of sorrow as Cain glared at me. I tried to be subtle as I took a breath to calm my racing heart. He was standing too close to me. I needed to step back, but the only place to go was down onto the couch. I couldn’t let his presence stand any taller over me than he already was, so I clenched my hands together, wringing them as I willed him to leave.

Something caught his attention and he turned to look toward the windows. The long white sheer curtains, that I used to soften the tall lines of the glass panes, fluttered in the breeze. I’d left the window open before I went to Vegas, I guess. On the third floor, without a fire escape outside that window, I hadn’t been concerned. Cain obviously was.

“Did someone break in here?” he stated, taking note of the items scattered here and there. Books were piled high, but papers skittered across the floor, in what had to have been the breeze. A collection of pens and markers lay haphazard around my notes. A sweatshirt was draped over the arm of the couch. A rumpled blanket covered the cushions and a bed pillow sat crooked on the edge.

He passed me quickly and entered my bedroom through the open French doors. His eyes focused on my double bed. It was positioned on an angle, which cut the room even smaller, but I liked the unconventional statement. It was my personal rebellion to not have it straight against the wall. I had a sudden image of him in it, then realized he’d never fit. He was too large. Plus, he wouldn’t want to be there anyway. It was only partially made. Three pillows were askew. The floral duvet I’d simply pulled up in my haste on Friday night to leave for the fight.

Up until the last minute, I wasn’t certain I was going to go. Aware of the fight from the continued rumors at school, I didn’t wish to witness such mayhem. Abel Callahan, Betta, was fighting his older brother, Cain, the Cobra. Abel had mentioned it, but the information I had from him was minimal. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it with me. I had no idea if Cain and Abel were close, or not, as brothers. As a teacher’s assistant for Abel’s human anatomy class, we spoke more about the class, his final research project, or just lighthearted banter about Preston than anything else.

At the last minute, Lucie was the one who talked me into going. Assured of a place to stay at the Belfast Casino Resort, I only needed the plane ticket. On a college student’s budget, that was a luxury I couldn’t afford, but when one was mysteriously messengered to me, I took it as a sign to attend. We didn’t need tickets to the fight, as Lindee had secured four, from her parents’ connections.

Taking in the messy surroundings, I felt the need to clarify.

“I was in a rush on Friday.”

He spun to face me, waiting out an answer.

“I didn’t think I was going to the fight.” I swallowed hard at the way he visually questioned me. His eyes had softened in the minutes he’d been here. The tension of his face loosening to remind me of the playful Cain, who stood in a cold river with me last summer, then kissed me in a way I’d never been kissed. Pure devil and glorious sin were in that kiss, and every one he’d given me before and after. My mouth watered for a taste of him again. The feel of his dangerous tongue in my mouth; it would be too much. I’d give into him like I had so quickly done before.

“What changed your mind?” he asked. His eyebrow twitched like he was preventing it from rising in question. I hated that I noticed each tick and twist of his facial expressions.

“I was able to get a cheap plane ticket last minute,” I lied, and something in his face told me he didn’t believe me.

“Interesting,” he said, drawing his hand up to his chin. His fingers softly scraped over his jaw and the stubble made a scratching sound. Instantly, I recalled how that stubble felt on my skin, under my fingertips, up my thighs and along my breasts. My lower body clenched and I had to look away from the teasing gleam. Once ensnared by those dark circles of temptation, I’d be a pawn to his play.

“You should close your windows when you aren’t home, and keep them locked when you are.” His words had taken a tone of seriousness.

“Why?” I laughed in reply to his overprotective demeanor.

“You never know what dangers lurk in the dark.” His voice was deep, rough, like sand swirled on glass. I swallowed again at the hypnotic glare of his eyes.

“There are dangers even under bright sunlight, too,” I whispered. His eyes blinked. It was a reference to our day in the garden: a sliver of space on my grandparents’ property that held a cool river, a small shady spot, and a memory of a summer afternoon.