Fighting back tears, she nodded and held out her hand. “Give me the diary. It belonged to my mother.”
He held firm to it. “Not until you listen to me.”
“There’s nothing you could tell me, no explanation you could make up, that I’m remotely interested in hearing. Now give me the diary.”
Determined to get the journal back from him, she started toward him.
“I hunt demons for a living, Isabelle.”
She stopped. “What?”
“Demons do exist. I’ve seen them. I’ve killed them.”
She felt dizzy, nauseous. Was he making this up? “What are you saying?”
“I’m here to protect you. Demons are looking for you. They want to use you, to hurt you.”
Her airway was closing; pinpricks of tiny lights danced in front of her eyes. Oh, God, she was losing it. She tried to suck in air, but she was doing it too fast. She hurried toward the bed and sat, doubling over. “I’m going to be sick.”
A cool hand swept her hair away from her neck and palmed her nape. “Breathe normally. Slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”
“Don’t. . touch me.” She tried to bat his hand away, but dammit, it felt good-calming. She was so pathetic. Angry and sick to her stomach. She felt both violated and needy, yet desperate to be held and comforted. She wanted this nightmare to go away. She wanted it not to have happened.
Once she got her breathing under control, she felt less like passing out, though the sick feeling in her stomach hadn’t gone away. She sat upright, shouldering his arm away, refusing to acknowledge the tenderness of his touch.
She’d thought they had a connection, something that went deeper than anything she’d ever experienced with a man. He got her, understood her. Or so she’d thought.
The mattress gave as he sat next to her. “Isabelle, let me explain this to you.”
“You violated my privacy,” she shot back. “You violated me. There’s nothing to explain.”
“You’re right. I did take what was yours. And I’m sorry. I had to know about you.”
She turned her head to glare at him. “Couldn’t you have asked?”
“Would you have told me what was in your mother’s journal?”
She looked away again. No. She wouldn’t have. No one needed to know what she was. She didn’t know what she was. Not really. Only that she wasn’t. . normal. If what her mother said was true.
Could it be true? She hadn’t even discussed it with Angelique, too afraid her sister would look at her with condemnation in her eyes. Hadn’t she always been less than Angelique? Hadn’t she been trying to prove herself equal to or better than her sister her entire life?
One good sister, one bad. How could that have happened? They were twins. Shouldn’t they be exactly alike? Why wasn’t Mother here so she could talk to her about it?
She blinked to fight the tears, needing distance and a place where she could be alone. “Go away, Dalton. Take me back to the dock. I want off this boat.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. I’m demanding you return me to the dock.”
“No.”
She stood, wobbling a little, cursing the alcohol she’d consumed earlier. Steadying herself, she faced him. “Are you kidnapping me?”
“I’m protecting you.”
“Bullshit.” She stared at the journal, trying to determine if it was worth trying to grab for it, then make a run. She was a good swimmer. Maybe she could get to the small boat anchored to the yacht.
Not that she ever wanted to read it again. Maybe it should be destroyed. Wasn’t it bad enough Dalton had found and read it? She should have burned it after she found it.
“If you’d calm down for five minutes and let me explain what my mission is here-”
“Oh. I’m a mission now. So fucking me was part of your mission?”
He dragged his hand through his hair. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Then what was it?”
His gaze never wavered. “Really great sex.”
Touche. What did she expect? Romance? Declarations of undying love and devotion? She barely knew him, and she’d gotten exactly what she’d asked for. No-strings sex. So why did her stomach twist at the word?
“You’re right. It was sex. Nothing more than that.” She wanted to lie and tell him it wasn’t even very good sex just so she could hurt him, but she couldn’t. It had been phenomenal.
“Isabelle, I’m sorry. I’ve done this all wrong. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you. It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”
