“Things that might get you killed.”
“Possibly.” He doesn’t even look up from his phone, scrolling through what’s probably emails about territorial disputes and strategic violence.
“And I’m just supposed to sit here and wait? Not knowing if you’re safe? Not knowing if—” The words catch in my throat. “Not knowing if you’re coming back?”
That gets his attention. He sets the phone down, dark eyes finding mine across the gym. “I always come back.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No, but I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I do.” He stands, crossing to where the water bottles sit. Takes one, drinks, watching me over the rim like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “This is what my life looks like, Elena. Late nights, dangerous situations, uncertainty. If you can’t handle it—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp. “Don’t use my worry as an excuse to push me away. Don’t act like caring about whether you live or die means I’m not cut out for this.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’ve been doing it for three days.” Stepping closer eliminates some of the careful distance he maintains. “You barely look at me. You don’t touch me unless it’s training. You leave before I wake up and come back after I’m asleep. If you’ve changed your mind about us, just say it. Don’t make me guess.”
His jaw works. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Then what is this? Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what? Greco? Your enemies? Because newsflash, Alessandro, I’m already in danger. I’m already a target. Avoiding me doesn’t change that.”
“I’m trying to protect you from me,” he says quietly, and something raw flashes across his face. “From what I want to do to you. From how dark the wanting gets when you’re close.”
Oh.
Oh.
Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly. “What if I want that too?”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me.” Another step closer, and now we’re in each other’s space, breathing the same air. “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass. Stop hiding whatever you think will scare me away.”
“Elena—” My name is a warning.
“Alessandro.” His name back as a challenge.
Something shifts in his expression, his control cracks, the careful mask slips. His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my bottom lip with a possessiveness that sends shivers down my spine.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs. “How much I want you. How hard it is to maintain any semblance of control when you’re in my space, wearing my clothes, looking at me like I’m something other than a monster.”
“You’re not a monster.”
“Yes, I am. And when I finally give in, when I stop fighting this, you’re going to see exactly what kind of monster wants you.”
The words should probably terrify me. Instead, they light something primal and hungry in my core.
“Try me.”
His eyes go almost black. “You’re playing with fire, tesoro.”
“Maybe I like the burn.”
For one suspended moment, neither of us moves. Then his control shatters.
