Equal Parts (27 page)

Naturally, I freaked out, without him even showing me whatever ‘it’ was. A dead body? A new weapon? Something equally gruesome?

By the time the door opened again, I’d worked myself up into expecting anything. Instead of something macabre, what I got was…

Henry Westwood.

Chapter Seventeen

In It For Good

“Surprise,” he – whoever
he
was – said with a weak smile.

I just gaped. And gaped.

Eventually, I stood on shaking legs – this time it had nothing to do with the bed. “Henry Westwood,” I whispered, walking towards him. This time – for the first time – it was him who took the step backwards, into the doorframe behind him. “East meets West.”

As though he was waiting for me to explode, he simply watched me in silence, hands fisted at his sides. God, he was beautiful. Without the contact lenses in, the full intensity of his eyes hit me head-on, the rich honey color even more gut-clenching than the black. All the bronzed skin that had been hidden by the face paint was suddenly on display – every freckle, every angle of cheekbone, every flawless inch.

He was terrifyingly beautiful with the paint on. Without it, he was … devastating.

This was unbelievable. Incredible. Impossible. And yet…

“I knew it,” I croaked. “I knew it was you. I even called out your name to see if you’d react. But you didn’t so much as flinch.”

“I heard you,” this stranger told me in a dark voice. He wasn’t Henry, but I suppose he was no longer Achilles. “And God, Felicity, I wanted to answer. Do you have any idea how deep it cut, to know you saw right through me?”

My shaking fingers suddenly reached out to brush against his naked cheek. He seemed close to shattering against the caress. “Why didn’t you just tell me it was
you
? I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“I had … plans. At the start of the night, I lined the garden of Cole’s place with explosives. Enough to send a message, probably not enough to result in fatalities. But then, right as I went to order the blow for the damn things, I walked around the corner and saw
you
sitting there.” His own fingers came up, pressed against the base of my
throat
. “The girl who haunted my dreams, in the flesh, sitting on a bench in a Captain Hook costume. I
knew
– straight away, I knew you could see me. At first you seemed afraid, but then…”

“You called me ‘darling’,” I finished. He nodded. My fingers fell away. “
But Finn said those things … and you just stood there. I don’t…” It was childish of me, I knew, to seek reason for his indifference that night. But I didn’t understand – I
couldn’t
understand how Achilles would let Finn say such things to me, how he could’ve heard Finn say I was in love with Achilles and not be at all affected.

“
I wanted to kill him. I’ve never thought of killing Finnian Cole before, but that night I wanted to make him choke on his own words.” His mouth tightened. “But I couldn’t. You didn’t know me, and drawing attention to myself wasn’t something I could risk. I can still kill him for you, though, if that will help at all.”

I cracked a smile. “I’ll settle for you answering some questions at long last.”

“Such as?”

“
Is your name really Henry Westwood?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

“Then yes, my name is really Henry Westwood.”

“Do you prefer Henry or Achilles?”

A very small frown - the one I was used to seeing hidden behind white paint. “I’ve never given anyone the choice, to be honest. To me, they’re one and the same. To you, maybe not.”

Well, the obvious answer was that when he wore the paint he was Achilles, and without it he was Henry. But I knew I had to choose – I couldn’t call him one or the other depending on what his face looked like.

There was a certain privilege in calling him Henry, but I knew the risk of it slipping out in front of other people. If his men – or, God forbid, Finn – ever found out his real name, the image of Achilles would be irrevocably tainted by reality. The point of his character was to be unreal, to be faceless and nameless. I didn’t want to unwind the work he’d put in.

“Achilles,” I murmured, studying his reaction closely. “Achilles is who I know you as. Maybe, in time, I’ll call you Henry, when the two of you come as one in my mind. But right now, I don’t know Henry. I only know and like Achilles.”

That made him grin. I noted how much more human it looked without the paint. “That’s right – you rejected
my offer for a lift home
. It was an odd feeling, being jealous of myself.”

I actually blushed. “Well, now I’m glad I
didn’t
agree
to that ride
. You probably would’ve thought I was willing to
go home with
any random hot guy.”

“So you think I’m hot?” Suddenly his look turned devilish – a look I definitely recognized as Achilles’s.

“No,” I lied. “Not at all.”

“Little liar,” he breathed, snapping his teeth at me – a purely Achilles move. I was starting to see the similarities more clearly now. “Would you prefer I put the paint back on? You seemed to like me better that way.”

Though the question was asked with an air of indifference, I knew from the look in his eye that he was partly serious. This, then, must be why he wore the contact lenses: those beautiful, unique eyes gave everything away, every flicker of emotion. And if there was one thing Achilles couldn’t show, it was emotion.

“I like you both ways. Like I’ve said before, the paint is part of who you are. I just have to … adjust.” So long as I concentrated on the idiosyncrasies the two identities shared, I wouldn’t feel as though I was betraying Achilles by being so personal with this stranger.

“Oh, speaking of who you are...” He took out yet another item from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to me.

My purse! And in it were my keys and phone!
And glasses!
“I thought you might have lost these in the fight,” I said in a tiny voice, clutching the
possessions
to my chest possessively.

Those broad shoulders shrugged. Another familiar tic. “You’re welcome.”

I inspected my glasses, spiderweb cracks running through their corners. “I’ve given these up,” I told him, setting them on the bedside table. “I was thinking of investing in contacts, anyway.”

He frowned, and it struck me as so odd that it didn’t cause creases and cracks in his paint. “That’s too bad. I
kind of liked
sexy-librarian Flick.”

Grinning with real happiness, I swiftly pecked him on the lips. Again, I saw how his eyes gave the game away – honey was quickly enveloped by black as his pupils expanded. “I think it’s time for me to show you the other reasons I put out that reward.”

Ca-thump
went my heart. “B-but I’d much rather talk about –”

“Actions, darling, actions,” he reminded me, finally pushing off the doorframe to back me straight onto the bed. I fell without hesitation, sinking into the plush covers with a gasp. He disappeared from sight for a moment to turn out the light, only to return and flick on a golden lamp in the corner.

I was nervous, but worse than that, I was
excited
. Just being on that bed, in that room, with that boy of all boys, was enough to convince me that this was right. Achilles would never hurt me, never do anything I wasn’t ready for. I knew that, even if he had trouble convincing himself of it.

But, before he even reached the bed, I figured there was something rather obvious I should tell him:

“Achilles, you’ve probably already guessed this, but I’ve never … I mean, I’m not…” Oh God, why was this so hard? “I’m not like those other girls.” There, that was much more sophisticated than admitting I was still a virgin at twenty years of age.

I expected him to freeze, to at least back off a little. Instead he crawled up my body with a grin that made me melt, and stopped when his face was directly above mine. “Darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I picked up on that from the way you
blushed
when I looked at you in that gazebo all those weeks ago. When most people see me coming towards them, the first reaction I get usually isn’t them mouthing off at me.”

“You were intimidating!” I protested. “I’ve never had a thing for homicidal charmers before.”

“But now you do?”

“Apparently,” I muttered, knowing he could feel my racing heartbeat under his chest.

“Well, if it helps, I’ve never had a thing for beautiful, deceptively brave, innocent charmers before.”

“And now you do?”

His grin widened, taking on a wolfish look. “Definitely.”

I wanted to kiss him, touch him, explore him – but there was one stupid barrier that prevented me from doing so. “I know you won’t like me asking this…”

“I have I feeling you’ll do it anyway, so go on.”

“That girl, the one you brought home when I was taken back to my cell. Why did you … wasn’t I…?” Yet again, struck down by my own inhibitions.

He knew, though. Of course he knew. As though he could sense my need for air, he rolled off me, facing me on his side. “It had nothing to do with what you
weren’t
, Felicity, and everything to do with what you
were
.” Sighing, he ran a hand through his short hair. “You were my prisoner. I told myself from the beginning that you were off limits, that you were just a temporary commodity, but … but you got under my skin, and before I knew it, I was finding any reason to be with you, to
touch
you. After the bathroom incident, I got scared – that’s my only excuse. I was scared of how I felt about you, and slipped back into old habits.”

I … didn’t know how to react. I waited for the anger to come, but it didn’t. Same with relief. His explanation was too practical, too honest to fault. “Oh” was the only response I could come up with.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. I think it was the first time he’d ever said those words to me. “I really am sorry, Flick. The moment I saw you in that hallway, I knew how badly you were hurting, and it killed me. But I had to stay away from you, for both our sakes. You’re as dangerous to me as I am to you.”

“Please,” I scoffed. “I’m way more badass than you. Did you see how I threatened that girl with your hammer?”

“I did, and I have to say, I was thoroughly impressed.” The playful glint sparked in his eyes once more, and I knew there was no point focusing on the past. I was getting more emotional range from him in ten minutes than I had in a month, and I wasn’t about to ruin it by remaining bitter.

“So are you planning on staying away from me for much longer?” I asked conversationally, flicking my hair over my shoulder. “Because if you are, I actually got asked out by this guy at a Halloween party. I’m sure
he’d
be interested in getting to know me.”

Quick as I could blink, he was on top of me once more, pinning my hands above my head with one arm, holding himself up with the other. “Nice try, but I’m afraid once you’re in my net, you’re in it for good.”

Enough beating around the bush. I pressed my lips against his before he could continue teasing me, arching my torso into his to reach his mouth. Like in Firestorm, his kiss was slow and tender to the point of frustrating, stirring heat in my blood until I was all but panting against his mouth.

“More,” I groaned, and his laugh did nothing to soothe my frazzled nerves.

“Impatient,” he commented, nipping at my jaw.

“Tease,” I retorted, bucking my hips up to rub against his front.

That got him moving. His hand released mine to move to behind my knee, his palm burning against the tender skin. “How much do you like this dress?” he asked in a rough voice.

“It’s Lucia’s,” I answered, not quite sure where he was going with this.

“I’m sure she can buy another one with the money I gave her.” His lips meshed against mine, and a ripping sound filled the air. A moment later, I realized what he’d done.

“Achilles!” I yelped, instantly covering my half-naked form, blood rushing to my cheeks. Too bad it was only my voice that seemed panicked – the rest of me was just further turned on by his actions.

“You weren’t wearing a bra.” He sounded so strained, like he was hardly holding himself together. “Is this too fast?”

I considered his words. He was giving me an out – something I didn’t expect. If I didn’t do this, would I regret it in the morning? Or would it be a clearer decision in the light of day?

“No,” I told him, honestly. “It’s okay.”

More gently than I would have thought possible, he pulled an arm around me and enclosed us both under the covers, enveloped in each other’s warmth. “You say stop, we stop. You feel uncomfortable at all, you tell me straight up, understand?”

“I trust you.” Another truth. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

Pure joy flooded my system through his skin. It was pure passion, though, that shone in his eyes. “If it’s the last thing I do, darling, I will make you the happiest woman on this earth.”