Page 183 of The Mercy of Dawn

“Dion,” she whispered, holding back another wave of tears that threatened to crest. “I provoked him. If I had just listened h-he—”

The warm touch of his hands slipped away, and a string of profanities left Mikael as he walked away from her. The worn wood of his desk groaned as he leaned back against it and scrubbed his palms over his face.

“Please don’t be angry with me…I need you, Mika. I…”

Cyril stuffed down the other desperate things that threatened to roll out of her and reached for his arm instead.

Mikael stilled.

“Angry with you?” Everything about his posture changed. Like an immeasurable weight of tension slipped from him. His voice was soft as he shook his head and said, “Never.”

Cyril was desperate to believe him, but she couldn’t.

Because even as his fingers laced through hers and he drew her in…

Even as he brushed her hair back from her face with a ghost of a touch…

Even as he kissed her forehead, then her lips, with gentle reverence…

She was afraid of Mikael, of the vulnerability she felt around him. Of the power he wielded over her because of that.

“I’m sorry,” Cyril murmured against his lips as he eased back from her.

“You have no reason to be.” He held her face in his hands like the broken thing she was. “This is not your fault.”

Cyril closed her eyes.

Waves of fatigue lapped at her, and Mikael was so warm…

“Can I clean this up for you?” he asked, his thumb skimming low on her cheek.

She nodded, and Mikael eased her into a chair.

“I’ll be right back.”

It took no small amount of effort for Mikael not to stray from his path to the supply room.

He wanted to kill Dion in a slow and creative way. Inflicting as much pain as he could manage. He wanted to see the same look of fear in that piece of shit’s eyes as he saw in Cyril’s. That man was a waste of air and deserved every fucking—

Mikael took a deep breath.

If only for her sake, he had to stay calm.

The fear that rolled off of her was heavy and sickening, and he couldn’t stand it. She was afraid of him too, he knew, and he had to prove her wrong. He had to prove that, despite the mess they landed in these last few days, he didn’t operate like Dion. That his love and affection wouldn’t come with conditions and burdens, and whatever the fuck happened today.

Love.

The word rolled around in his mind with such ease that Mikael almost wanted to laugh. He hadn’t even taken the damn woman to bed—not for a lack of want on either of their parts—and yet he didn’t—

“Whatcha lookin’ for boss?”

Mikael swore.

Behind him, Silas leaned against the doorframe with a lopsided grin.

“Medkits. Where the fuck are they?”

Truthfully, he only made it through one cupboard before his thoughts sidelined him.