Chapter 197

Alexi looks at me for a long pause then softy exhales and looks down to break eye contact, eyebrows dipping further, and for a second, he just looks weary and almost human … A little lowering of his infernal armour to show something real. I just stay rooted to my spot, cradling my odd gifts against my chest and can’t look away from him.

So much tension sizzling in the air.

‘Do you think I would give you half my club if my intention was to hurt you again?’ He doesn’t look me in the eyes this time, eyes on his desk as he leans down and flattens his palm on the surface where I took a huge chunk out of the wood by throwing the gun on it, but he doesn’t look annoyed. He just rests on his arms and leans forward, losing that intimidation in this casual stance and I loosen my hold on the bundle in my arms.

I don’t know why, but the change in atmosphere and the way he’s acting lowers my guard too, and for once I feel like we are having ourselves a truly honest conversation—Without malice.

‘I don’t know.’ It’s the truth, even if I shouldn’t be giving it to him.

‘I need you here. I know you can walk at any time, so I’m not going to make the same mistakes that I did. I know I’m responsible for how it ended and I regret that, whether you believe me or not.’ I swallow hard as a lump lodges in my throat at his words, and yet still cannot tear my eyes from his downward tilted face, watching intensely for truth. He seems to be sincere. My heart hitches up in speed once more and the good old clammy hands come back, along with little flutters in my stomach. He really knows how to get maximum reactions from me.

Finally, he comes back up at me and it’s like being caught in that spell all over again—the steady lock of soft eyes and a haunting look that draws you in powerfully. Alexi has a gift for enamouring women and pulling you to him like a magnet with the subtlest of actions, and I am not sure if that is what this is, or something deeper between us. He would be a great vampire. I shiver and break it by looking away, never falling for that shit again, real or not. I can’t and won’t ever walk on that thin ice and try to kid myself it can stand under the weight. My heart is not as strong as it once was thanks to him, so I need to be extra protective of it.

‘If that’s true then stick to the rules. No touching. Keep your distance. Let me do my job. I’ll learn to trust you one day if you stick to what I ask.’ My voice is shaky and low and it’s obvious that I am getting emotional, stupidly letting him see, but this is what he’s always been good at; Undermining my best-laid plans and screwing me up. My only defence is that he adheres to what I have laid down.

‘Then you need to let me protect you in the ways I know how. Trust that in this I know better. This is my world, Cam; listen to me when it comes to your safety. It’s the one area I have never given you reason to doubt me. You have to admit that when it came to protecting you, you could always trust me to do it.’

He is almost pleading with me and I know I can’t argue with what he is saying. When shit hit the fan, he always looked after me. He swooped in more than once to do so, and when things went sour, I always felt safe from the outside world around him.

I relent, letting the items drop to hang in front of my waist with a loose hold as heart and head finally join forces and I just feel incredibly bad for making him upset. If that’s what this is.

‘Are you going to teach me how to fire it too?’ It’s my way of saying he wins. Backing down and accepting that in this, I trust him. Mico may be willing to teach me, but Alexi is the one who wants to. If this is going to work then maybe I have to give a little. Get used to working and being around him in some sort of amicable way.

My gut is telling me that this is his way of showing he is trying too, that maybe it is different from before.

‘I can take you to the shooting range as many times as you need to get comfy with it … whenever you want. Bring it over here. I don’t want you carrying it until you’re confident with it. It’s not loaded but still, it can stay in the safe until we can spend more time with it and I at least want you to learn how to hold it properly before I leave.’ That soft haziness is lifting from his tone and manner, and bossy pants is starting to move back in. Alexi in control is his comfort zone and he likes it when I don’t combat his orders.

‘Who knew you would be Mr Gun safety?’ I jest a little to break the tension but do as he commands and walk back to him to hand it over. He avoids touching me this time and takes it carefully.

Clicking and pushing something he pulls out an inner long sleeve from the handle and turns it around to show me an empty little chamber, holder thing. Completely hollow and has nothing inside.

‘Not loaded. I wouldn’t put something dangerous in your hand until I knew you could handle it.’ He pushes it back into the space it came from until it clicks and turns it to face me again, handle out for me to take expectantly. There is something a little sexy about his easy handling of a weapon, even if it’s small for his hands, and I have to shake myself to stop gazing at him holding it. He is far too comfortable with a firearm for my liking and it just reminds me that he carries one often.

‘Now hold it up and point it like a good girl to get used to how it feels. Move it around, get to know it. It needs to become an extension to you so that you will never fear picking it up. You have to learn to trust that it can save your ass.’

I take it slowly and point it first at the wall then swing to him with a mischievous smile, trying for cocky, pointing at him for a second and then lose my nerve as memory takes over and drop it to face down completely. A sudden flash of panic and stomach-churning ache as I remember what that night felt like and have to choke back the well of emotion that threatens to make me cry.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be comfy with this, it’s pointless,’ I say dejectedly.

Alexi doesn’t even flinch, even when it was facing him. Although he knew it was empty, it would still make me nervous if he pointed an empty gun at me. He doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he drops back into that tender way of talking as though he realises my barrier is more mental scarring than anything else.

‘It’s new to you; you’re not used to how it feels. You have a fear that will fade. Understandably. People assume handling a gun is easy—it’s not. It comes with so many feelings and thoughts, and a huge responsibility. I promise you, there is nothing to be afraid of with this gun, in this room, with me. I would never let anything happen to you. Pick it up and point over there.’

What he says triggers a memory and as I try to pick out what it was in his sentence that stirred a weird spike in my chest, he starts pushing me towards the wall again and tries to position me beside him. Head being pulled back from conversation to actions.

He’s persistent anyway and I obey, tensing when he guides me by the waist to right against his side, but this time he doesn’t lean against me as before and keeps the gap enough to let me breathe. Moving in to direct, this time without further touch, and I forget all the previous row.

‘Drop it in height slightly; you want it level with your shoulder. Pull it in so you have control and both hands on it to keep it steady until you get used to the weight.’ Alexi is in tutor mode and completely focused on how I am standing, eyes running over me as I get acclimatise to it in my hand.

It feels weird and my nerves are still all over the place, body trembling, yet somehow with him right here making sure I can do this, I feel better about it.

Knowing it’s empty, knowing he is very well versed in gun handling is somehow reassuring; I don’t miss the irony that Alexi can have me here holding a gun, just months after that night, and make me feel utterly safe and in control.

He really is a head fuck and a half.

‘Okay, press here, that click and little catch. That’s your safety. When that’s on like it is, the gun won’t fire. I want you to flick it on and off right now until you can do it without thinking … an automatic response to picking up your gun. Otherwise, it’s pointless even doing so.’ He directs me to a little lever that I can reach with my thumb and I do as he says. Flicking it on and off until my thumb gets tired from the effort and my whole hand aches from fatigue. I glance up at him; his eyes focused on my hand and take a moment to really study his profile when he is so still and transfixed.