I’m having trouble figuring out exactly what Remy is all about, in general. Yes, he looks scary and cold and intimidating, but you know, we are standing in a prison. Also, how the hell did he know my name? That might be the scariest thing about all this, despite something inside telling me I don’t have to be afraid. That he feels familiar. And more, that he feels safe.
Which makes absolutely no sense.
Everything about him screams run scared—except his eyes. His eyes are too watchful. Too careful. Too…needy.
And that’s when it hits me. I know exactly why he feels familiar.
He’s not the first guy I’ve met who pretends to be a psychopath so no one looks closer and sees his pain… Been there, done that, currently mated to him.
And that’s it; I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. Men. They really are simple creatures sometimes.