Luckily, the food didn’t take long to arrive; the scent of grease and salt made my mouth water.

The waiter placed two large plates with burgers and beer-battered fries on the table. “You guys want some mayo? Sauce?”

Kill shook his head.

“Okay, then. Enjoy.” The waiter smiled and left us to eat. Once we were alone, Kill went to pick up his huge, oversize burger but hissed between his teeth as his right arm refused to do what he wanted.

He scowled at his chest, hating his weakness.

“I should check to make sure you don’t have an infection.”

His eyes darted to mine and I nodded toward his stitches. “You didn’t let me see how it looked this morning.” I couldn’t see anything with his thick jacket in the way, but he could’ve popped the stitches and be bleeding again for all I knew.

“Don’t worry about it,” he growled, shoving a few fries into his mouth. “I was able to drive a bike; I damn well don’t have an infection.”

I pursed my lips. “If you feel faint—”

He lowered his head, glowering at me from beneath his brow.

I held up a hand. “Fine. I’ll drop it. But it’s on you to make sure you don’t die.”

Eating another fry, he rolled his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me that I live or die by my own hand.”

Temper curled hot in my belly, but I let it go. There was no point to that argument. None at all.

Investigating my food, I couldn’t hold off eating any longer and grabbed the sharp knife meant for thick fillets of beef rather than burgers. Stabbing the blade into the middle of the delicious-looking burger, I sliced it down the middle.

Kill still hadn’t touched his, even though he’d devoured most of his fries.

I hesitated, glancing at the knife and back to his meal.

What can it hurt?

He needed help, and I couldn’t stand by and not give it.

I reached across the table, pierced his burger, and cut it into two easy-to-hold pieces.

He froze.

Relaxing into my seat, I looked away and focused on my food—giving him some space. The look in his green gaze shouted that he wanted to punish me—for no other reason than making him feel weak by caring.

Kill still didn’t move, glaring at his food. I wanted to yell at him to eat it—I hadn’t poisoned the damn thing—but I kept my lips sealed.

For a moment, I thought he’d throw it away just to prove a point. But finally he picked up a half and brought it to his mouth.

I hid my smile, pretending fascination in my own beef-and-cheese goodness.

His jaw worked, the muscles in his neck making my tummy flip as he swallowed. Everything he did was done with undisputed power. It both scared me and turned me on.

Regardless of my future, I was glad I’d been there when he needed someone. If I hadn’t been kidnapped or delivered to him, he would be dead. He wouldn’t have sought help. In fact, he looked as if he expected to die sooner rather than later. He had an aura about him that clouded and twisted with too many dark and dangerous things.

I won’t let that happen.

Nursing my promise, we ate the rest of our meal in silence.

“What are we doing in here?” I asked, looking at the wide-eyed girls and the female sale clerks eyeing up Kill in his leather cut. Their gaze held interest, fear, and a curiosity that had my tummy curling with possession. I’d seen him hurt and that vulnerability belonged to me.

Not them.

I hated the thought of others thinking they had that right.

“Buying clothes.” Kill tapped my head. “You’re not getting worse, are you? Short term memory fading, too?”

The high-end department store held clothing that I didn’t have to look at the price tags to know I wouldn’t be able to afford—even if I’d known how much money I had to my name.

Name.

Funny, I’d like to know that, too.

I waved at a rack of gorgeous skirts. “I don’t have any money.”

Kill immediately pulled out a silver clip, and flicked off five one-hundred-dollar bills. Holding them out to me, he said, “Take them.”

My mouth fell open, eyeing the crisp notes. “You’re offering me five hundred dollars?” I couldn’t stop my face twisting with incredulity. “I can’t take that.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Why not? I’m not going to put up with you wearing my clothes, and you currently look like a child playing badass dress-up.” He whispered, almost as an afterthought, “It looks fucking unsexy and not the way a woman should dress.”

Woman.

He’d called me a woman, rather than a girl like last night.

In a fast move, he grabbed my wrist and squeezed my metacarpal bones until my hand had no choice but to flop open.

“Ow!”

He slammed the money into my palm.

Letting go, he went to move away but wasn’t fast enough. I closed my fingers over his.

He stopped breathing.

Our eyes locked and the rest of the world disappeared up a vacuum where only silence and anticipation remained.

I trembled as the connection between us slugged me in the heart. His fingers twitched beneath mine; his lips parted as he fought hard against whatever existed.

I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t do anything but give in to the power sparking and arching and making me feel alive even while I felt completely empty. Empty of thoughts, of memories, of histories that could ruin what I’d found in the most unlikely of places.