Page 34 of Knight’s Retribution

His navy eyes flashed black, and his body seemed to move in an odd way. Rocco’s jaw tightened, and he ran a palm over his cropped hair. “Okay, pumpkin, anything you need. I’ll be more careful.”

There was no missing the pain in his eyes, and she felt like a fucking monster. She wanted him to hold her in those strong arms. She needed it so badly, but something inside her recoiled.

Tobias and Scarlet were not in the room, and she glanced at the doors across from them.

“They’re giving us some space,” Rocco said, reading her.

His body moved in that odd way again. “What is that?” she asked. “The way you’re moving.”

“Did Diemos tell you what we are? What I am?”

She took him in, really took him in. He was thinner, rougher looking, but still huge, muscular, more. He’d always been so much more than any other man she had ever seen. “He said you were half angel and half demon. Is that the truth or another of his lies?”

His hands were hanging loosely at his sides, and his fingers curled and flexed. “It’s the truth.”

“So you’re the same as Diemos?”

He winced. “No, we’re nothing alike. You know that, don’t you, Ky?”

She released a shaky breath and nodded. Yes, she did. Of course, she did.

He took a step closer, then seemed to catch himself and stepped back again. “I have feathered wings, and a demon form as well as this one. The only way to explain it is…that part of me, it’s separate, and I’ve been fighting it for control my entire life…until we found you. You are our common ground. I don’t have to fight anymore. With you close, my demon is calm. He just wants us both to be near you. That’s what you can see moving under my skin.”

Okay, that was a lot. But it’s not like she hadn’t seen worse since she’d been down here. “And I’m half demon as well?” she asked, her stomach gripping tight.

He nodded.

“Did you know that when you met me?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

She hugged herself. “Am I your…your mate? Diemos said I was. He assumed I already knew…that you’d told me.”

His wide chest expanded, and his nostrils flared. “Yes, you’re my mate. I mean, a couple of things have to happen first to make it…official, but yes, you are mine and I am yours.” His expression softened, and he took another step closer. “Baby, we were made for each other.”

She didn’t know what to say, how to reply. A part of her, a huge part of her, wanted to go to him now and feel the warmth of his skin against hers, to let him hold her and make her feel safe. But the gnawing in the pit of her stomach was telling her she would never be safe ever again.

Her gaze slid to his hands, big and strong, rough and calloused. And right now, there was dried blood on them. She loved those hands, but the thought of them holding her tight in that moment sent a shiver down her spine.

“We’ll take this slow, baby. Okay? Let’s just take this one step at a time.” He moved within touching distance. “Can I pick you up, Ky?” He pointed to one of the doors. “The bathroom’s through there, if you want a bath?”

“I’d like that,” she said, suddenly desperate to wash away Diemos’s touch—the intimate ones, and the torturous, pain-giving ones. She hesitated when he reached for her.

He made a pained sound. She couldn’t bear that she was hurting him, so she forced herself to nod, to reach for him, doing her best to fight the rising panic.

He scooped her up again, but held her in a loose grip and carried her to the bathroom. She felt him press his nose to her hair and breathe her in, and her heart squeezed, even as her palms grew sweaty. She’d been dreaming about him, about being in his arms again every night since they brought her here.

Now she finally was.

And she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Rocco lowered her to a chair by the bath, and she watched as he tugged his shirt off. God, he was beautiful. That face. Only an angel could be as beautiful as Rocco. She loved his tattoos, especially the colorful one down his right arm. She’d kissed it, traced it with her mouth, her fingers, so many times. And his body. It was familiar but also different. There wasn’t an inch of fat on him. He was all taut skin over heavy bone and muscle, sinewy. His hip bones jutted out, and when he shoved down his jeans, the thick veins in his thighs bulged. But what she’d noticed first was the cropped hair, and that he’d removed all his piercings.

“What happened to you, Rocco?” she whispered.

He glanced up at her, and that pain came back, lining his face. “I lost you.”

Oh god.