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Chapter 5

He stood some distance away, solemn and alone, mourning his loss in his own way. Our gazes locked as the rhythmic click of the Imperial device began echoing around us as they lowered Eagan’s body into the ground. The sound mournful in its cry of finality as it reinforced within me the knowledge how life could end so quickly. Leighton had told me Eagan’s death was a freak accident, but I’d never heard the specifics.

The months following the funeral were wrought with a plethora of change, the result of which had been an escalation of tension between Declan and myself, and last week things had come to a head, resulting in his absence for the past five days. Now, at the sound of his pickup rattling down the drive, I let out a relieved breath, thankful he had come home. No matter that I wanted to run to him immediately, I was uncertain of how he would react. So, instead, I continued shoveling manure out of the wheelbarrow and into the compost pile, but couldn’t stop myself from squinting in his direction. The effort was useless, as the glare of the sun on the pickup's windshield kept me from seeing into the interior.

My stomach did a funny little somersault as apprehension climbed through the branches of my nerves, heating and setting them alight with anxiety as the pickup drew ever closer. With a shifting of its position, I was finally able to see Declan, and absently noted he needed a haircut. The thick, lustrous, mocha strands cascaded around his shoulders, looking like ribbons of chocolate syrup as they fluttered madly in the wind beneath the ball cap he wore pulled low on his forehead, the cap was damn near as bent and dented as his pickup.

His elbow rested on the door and his fingers, spread across the upper portion of it, drummed in beat with the song blaring from the radio as the pickup dipped and swayed.

Trepidation flowered full bloom within me, for his absence had been my fault; I’d pushed him too far and the outcome of my actions had been far from what I had wanted. My feelings for Declan had never been sisterly, but over the past year the feelings I did have toward him had developed into something carnal, but no matter how I’d tried to make him see me as a woman, it hadn’t worked. So I’d hatched a plan that would. I’d seduce him.

On the day I’d planned to set my plan into action, I’d made an appointment for a waxing, then gone shopping. When it was time for my appointment, I’d returned to the salon and emerged a little while later feeling like a plucked chicken, but smooth all over. That night, I’d pulled on the black corset I’d purchased, and slid into the matching thong panties.

As I’d pulled my bedroom door shut behind me, my heart was pounding, but I’d continued forward on silent feet toward his bedroom. Silently, I entered his room, then crossed over to his bed. Using the moonlight filtering in through his window, I’d noted he lay on his back, and with one final deep breath, I slid onto the mattress, then placing a leg over his waist, I’d straddled his hips. In an instant, I was lying on the other side of the bed, and Declan was glowering at me from five feet away as voice a low growl, he’d snapped, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, and despite the nervousness I felt at facing him again, I dropped the pitchfork and ran toward the pickup when it spewed to a stop before the barn.

Rounding the driver’s door as he slung it open, I barely allowed his boots to hit the ground before I threw myself at him.

Moisture filling my eyes, I snuggled tightly against his chest, stuttering out my apology. “I’m…sorry…Declan. I won’t do it again, I-I promise!”

DECLAN

Sydney was a temptation I didn’t understand. I shouldn’t feel as I did toward her. I’d been bound to her as her protector since her eighteenth birthday and as such, my senses were more acute, more attuned to her, and last week I’d almost lost my tightly held control, along with my mind.

Being what I was, my sex drive was stronger than most of my kind, so desiring her hadn’t surprised me, but the fact I wanted more than physical pleasure from her, had. In fact, it had confused the hell out of me. Mating between us was impossible, forbidden, and what I’d felt, what I’d wanted, was intended strictly for my other. Sydney was not my other. There was no way she could be. We were not even of the same species.

But when the warm, heady scent of her desire for me had swirled around me that night, my own need had increased ten-fold. Anger had spiraled through me like a brush-fire as I hadn’t understood how the hell it was possible.

I still didn’t, and now, at the feel of her against me, everything I had run from last week resurfaced. Fuck, me! I ached for this woman like I had no other. Something was off, very off, and with an unshakable knowledge of what I had to do, what was necessary I did until I figured this shit out, I allowed a scowl of distaste to spread across my features as I snapped, “Jesus Christ, Sydney! Back the fuck off and stop making a fool of yourself! I’m not interested, so let’s make this clear, I’ll never fuck you!”

Her face washed of color, and despite the necessity of my words, the pain I saw reflected in her features slammed against my heart like a sledgehammer, stealing my breath. Damn, I couldn’t breathe, the pain was acute, but continuing to be the heartless bastard I had to be, I continued. “Do me a favor, just stay the fuck away from me.”

SYDNEY

Declan’s words lashed at my heart—the pain intense. Bringing about the knowledge that the apprehension of seeing him again had been well founded. I’d gone too far, overstepped his bounds one too many times.

A tearing sensation encompassed the region of my heart, a heart that stuttered and stopped beating before shuddering back to throb painfully within my chest.

Broken, I lashed out. “Fuck you, Declan!” Then, carrying pain as I had never experienced before, I turned and ran.

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