Page 24 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
“I can do it,” I say, reaching back for the zipper of my dress.
Damon gives a caustic laugh. “As much as I’d love to see the two of you in bed together, I don’t want to see what happens when Gabriel finds out I saw you naked.”
“You saw me naked at the auction.”
“That doesn’t count. You weren’t his then.” Damon tosses the belt aside and pushes down his pants.
I know I should be worried about the poor girl on the bed. I should be worried about Gabriel being shot. And I am, but there’s another part of my mind reserved for the words: You weren’t his then.
Do I belong to Gabriel now? He bought my virginity, my body. Not my soul.
And definitely not my heart.
I manage to look away in time, hearing the sounds of him climbing into the bed. “I’ll go find Anders.”
“Really intent on making this a threesome, aren’t you?”
“He’s a doctor.”
“He lost his license.” I watch as Damon wraps the girl in his arms, their intimacy obvious despite the heavy down blanket covering them. The tenderness in his movements makes my breath catch.
“Gabriel said it was fine. Anders stitched his gunshot wound.”
Damon’s dark eyes sharpen. “Gabriel was shot?”
“Grazed. On his neck.” I’m silent a moment before confessing. “The bullet was meant for me.”
“You don’t know that,” comes a low voice from behind me.
I whirl to find Gabriel leaning against the door frame. His skin is paler than usual, the bandage stark white. His golden eyes swirl with sleep and drugs and pain, liquid gold.
“You shouldn’t be standing,” I say, accusing.
“And you shouldn’t be in Damon’s bedroom.”
My eyes widen. The room is certainly large and opulent. And completely devoid of personality. “This is his bedroom?”
“I heard you almost died,” Damon says lazily, not seeming concerned that we’re in his personal space, that he’s naked next to a girl almost blue with cold. “Did you lose…what? A whole teaspoon of blood?”
At least he sounds more like himself right now, amused and uninterested.
“A quarter cup, at least,” Gabriel responds drily. “We should talk.”
The air in the room thickens with words unsaid—words about guns and enemies. Words about Jonathan Scott. “You can talk in front of me. I want to know.”
Damon glances down at the girl in his arms. “In private.”
My heart speeds up. “Why? What happened to her? Does it have to do with your father?”
Damon slips from bed and bends to pick up his pants, revealing more than I expected. I make a squeak of surprise and turn my face to Gabriel. Embarrassment heats my cheeks.
Gabriel gives a low laugh. “Are you shocked, little virgin?”
It is shocking, even when Damon has his pants on. The black hair on his chest contrasts with the light brown on Gabriel, both of them naked from the waist up. Damon is a little leaner, more streamlined grace to Gabriel’s muscled power. My whole body feels tight with a strange kind of anticipation. And I think my naïveté is more than coincidental. I think Gabriel likes keeping me in the dark—about his body, about his business. What else is he keeping from me?
“Tell me what’s happening,” I murmur, not far from begging. Maybe I’m already there.
Gabriel studies me for a moment. And in that moment I can almost believe he’ll let me in, that he’ll bring down the walls between us. That ivory tower I’m in keeps me apart from the city, but it also keeps me apart from him.
Then his golden eyes harden. “No.”
“Don’t do this,” I plead.
“Stay with her,” Damon says, brushing past me. “Her name’s Penny.”
“What happened to her?”
Neither man answers me as they walk down the hall, intent on their mission. I have half a mind to follow them, to demand they let me listen, to make them lock me out if that’s what they’re so intent on doing.
But I can’t really leave the girl—Penny—alone. A few minutes in Damon’s embrace isn’t going to fix whatever made her ice-cold and catatonic.
And so the footsteps rumble down the stairs, taking Gabriel away from me, along with his secrets. Secrets I’m more convinced he’ll never share.Chapter TwelveThe girl lies in the bed, her eyes wide and unblinking.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
She doesn’t move, not even when I climb onto the side of the bed. I take her hand, surprised to find it warm. Her hair had felt coated with ice when she came in. How has she warmed up in just a few minutes? Whatever help Damon was to her body, her mind doesn’t seem improved.
“Penny?” I squeeze gently. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.”
No answer.
I don’t undress, but I do climb into the bed with her. If I can’t offer words of comfort or medical help, at least I can give her body heat. Her hair still feels cold and wet against my arm. I can’t help but shiver as I curl myself around her.
