Her hair brushed my jaw. Soft. Distracting. I turned my head slightly, trying to create distance that didn’t exist, and my lips grazed the side of her neck.
She went very still.
“Don’t,” she whispered. So quiet I almost didn’t hear it.
“I’m not.” Also quiet. “I’m trying not to.”
“Try harder.”
“I am.” But my hands had moved. One splayed across her stomach. One resting on her hip. Holding her steady. Holding her close.
She shifted. Minimal movement. Just adjusting her position in the cramped space. Her body pressed more firmly against mine.
My control slipped.
My hand moved from her hip to her ribs. Testing. Exploring. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t tell me to stop. Just breathed faster, her heart rate climbing.
“Brevan.” Still quiet. Warning or invitation. I couldn’t tell.
The guards outside kept talking. System diagnostics. Procedure. Bureaucratic nonsense that meant they weren’t leaving soon.
I lowered my head. My lips found the curve of her shoulder. Not biting. Just tasting. Just barely there. She made a sound. Small. Suppressed. The kind of sound that meant I should stop.
I didn’t stop.
My fangs ached harder. The urge to bite, to mark, to claim warred with everything I knew about control and timing and not ruining a partnership with terrible decisions.
Her hand came up and covered mine. The one on her ribs. She didn’t push it away. She pressed it closer.
“This is reckless,” she whispered.
“I know.” My other hand moved to her throat. Not the collar. Just below it. Feeling her pulse. Fast. Unsteady.
“We’re in a maintenance shaft.”
“I noticed.”
“With guards outside.”
“Also noticed.”
“And Flinx is watching.”
“Probably.” I moved my thumb along her jawline. She tilted her head back slightly, giving me access. Giving me permission.
A loud clang echoed through the corridor.
The guards stopped talking.
“What was that?”
“Sounded like it came from the junction.”
More footsteps. Moving away. Investigating the noise.
Flinx. Had to be Flinx. Creating a distraction. Pulling them away from us.
The tension broke. Carys stepped forward as much as the shaft allowed. Creating distance. Creating space. Her breathing was still fast, but controlled now. Professional again.
