Beneath the Surface (Sugarlake, #4)

by Emily McIntire

“Act weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.” I twist to face him. “What?” “It’s a Sun Tzu quote from The Art of War.” My chest pulls as I hum. Act strong when you are weak. “Yeah, that was me, I guess. Always weak.” Another tear slides down my face, hot and salty as it hits my lips. My tongue peeks out to wipe the moisture away. “But people believe the face you show them. The more I talked, the less they asked. The more I smiled, the less they cared.” “That’s sad, little bird.” “Why do you call me that?” I turn in his arms. He smiles softly, his hand coming up to run down my cheek. “Birds are social animals. They live in flocks, and flourish in the skies. But when they’re put in captivity, they become lonely. Depressed. Aggressive. Sometimes, they show their trauma by never singing again.” My chest aches at his words. “When I first met you, you seemed lonely. Depressed. Aggressive. It made me want to hear you sing.” My breathing thins. His thumb presses into my bottom lip. “Birds aren’t meant to be caged.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my lips. “What stole your song, little bird?” My heart stutters. “I don’t think I can talk about that.” His nostrils flare, his eyes searching mine. “I’m afraid I already know.” Alex isn’t a stupid man. A sob breaks out of me, and he catches it with his lips, sucking in my cries and letting them rest on his tongue. I don’t say any more about it. I can’t. But I don’t need to, because Alex brings me in close and ...