Pulse: Bolt Saga: Volume Three by Angel Payne

Author:Angel Payne
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947222540
Publisher: Waterhouse Press

Chapter Four

Emma

I drift in the Neverland between sleep and consciousness, not wanting to leave—especially because my first rational thought has consisted of nothing but uck.

I know, I know—not the most mature way of describing the situation, though probably the most accurate. And regrettably, because most of that shit is aimed right back at myself.

Uck.

Because I was dumb enough to start thinking that maybe, just for a little while longer, Reece and I could continue playing the Paris honeymoon ruse. That we’d come to this beautiful place just to get more of each other, thinking of nothing but drinking great wine, eating a thousand kinds of cheese, and madly fucking each other’s brains out.

Uck.

Because I also lost my respect for the real reason we came. Reece’s anticipation of getting back on good footing with his family again so we can get to the truth behind the bizarre evidence linking both Tyce and Lawson back to the Consortium.

Uck.

Because even after promising Reece that I’d work on being more benevolent to Angelique, I shut down the very second I laid eyes on her. No. That wasn’t just shutting down. It was freaking out, ramping up, and checking all the way out.

Leading to the last and most awful uck.

Her heartfelt confession. Her heartbreaking tears. Her heartrending goodbye—all the way up to the point that Reece felt like giving her “heart” some extra attention of his own.

And the way my heart had instantly reacted.

Not seeing a woman who was hurting or the generosity of the man needing to comfort her.

Only feeling like the dorky girl from the OC who didn’t belong in the same room with “the worldly ones.” The woman who couldn’t show him half the moves in Angie’s sexual repertoire. The one who’d always be less sophisticated, less knowledgeable, less elegant, less connected…

Just less than.

“Uck.” The need to acknowledge it with volume overrides the yearning to stay hidden in the bedroom—where I’ve been avoiding the confrontation he and I will eventually have to face. Though I’ve heard him come and go a few times, he’s never stayed, for which I’ve been both grateful and regretful. While the man is being respectful of my need for “rest,” I also know he won’t let this tension fester. I’ve known this about him ever since learning he’s the man in the Bolt leathers. In many ways, watching the man zero in on criminals is a lesson about how he deals with relationship issues. Direct attention. Complete demand. Laser focus on identifying and then destroying the core of the problem.

Even if that core is just going to regrow itself.

Because I can’t seem to figure out how to make my mental weed killer work.

Seven months into this superhero girlfriend gig, and I’m still sprouting a garden of insecurity—sprinkled with a lot of I-don’t-belong-here dandelions.

Especially when I watch him with perfect roses like Angelique La Salle.

“Uck.”

Although I mutter it into the pillows this time, the bedroom’s door creaks open. And before he even angles his head in behind the panel, I feel his complete focus on me.

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