In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"Salvation. Damnation."

Charlie chewed lightly on the inside of her cheek, staring blankly at him. He still held the letter lightly in his fingers. She didn't want to keep speaking—didn't want to admit her own weakness.

"You're my problem," she repeated. "A problem that's going to damn me straight to Hell."

Remi didn't respond. Maybe he didn't have a response. Maybe he just knew that his silence drove her insane.

She let her eyes trace over his face. The piercing eyes, straight nose, the sensual mouth and finally the strong line of his jaw. Then she let her gaze travel farther—along  his broad shoulders, over his defined chest, the long line of his abdomen. Her gaze hitched on the letter he held in his lap. She looked at his elegant, capable fingers, his broad hands.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, the realization that had hit her as soon as she got home weighing heavily on her.

"Say what you want to say, Charlie," he demanded softly. "Say what you mean."

"Or you're my salvation," she gasped out. "The key to a future I want more than anything in the world. And that is not a good feeling, Remi."

Remi gazed at her thoughtfully, his eyes roaming over her in the same careful manner she had looked at him. He set the letter down between them, a white flag on a sea of black.

"Those two things could very well be the same," he murmured. "Salvation. Damnation." He tapped the letter lightly, making the paper rustle. "Where do I send the check?"

She blinked, meeting his gaze. "What?"

"This is where my part of our deal really starts, cher. You've so far held up your end," he gestured to his right side, "now I hold up mine. You're in... so you're in. You don't need to worry about how this works anymore. Now you get to see it."

"That's not what I'm talking about right now," she snapped. "I know you'll hold up your end."

"You're not worried about... me double-crossing?" he asked, something peculiar in his tone. "About me changing the deal?"

"Changing the—no." Her eyebrows drew together. "That's not what I meant. That's not my problem, Remi."

"Then what is?" His tone turned irritable. "That's the only reasonable thing to be worried about, isn't it? That I'll change my mind and leave you drowning."

"That's the problem," she hissed, standing up. "None of this is fucking reasonable."

Those words—that admission—drove her away from him. She snatched up her plate and nearly flew into the kitchen. Her movements were hectic as she scrubbed the plate and tossed it in the nearby drying rack.

Jazira's words echoed in her head. Just don't lie to me anymore. 

Don't lie. 

Lies were breaking her apart.

"Charlie."

His low voice coming from the door behind her made her stiffen slightly, her hands still wet, water beading over the skin on the backs of her hands. The beads caught the light, turning to quicksilver as they slid down her fingers and dripped back into the sink.

She could feel it when he stood behind her, waiting for her to turn around. He didn't touch her, didn't say any more than her name.

Her heart was a tumultuous beast in her chest. Her mouth was open before she'd consciously decided to speak. "If it was just about our deal, I wouldn't be worried. I've made my peace with that. But I don't think things are as simple as that. Do you?"