“You shouldn’t think that,” he muttered. “Not about me.”
“I do.”
The silence stretched between us. Heavy. Electric.
“If you want me to stop,” he said finally, voice low and rough, “you say it. Right now. You tell me to let you go and I will. No questions. No punishment. No bullshit.”
My heart hammered.
He meant it. I could feel it. The promise of it sat there, solid as bone.
All I had to do was say stop.
I thought of my father. Of the way Rowan’s voice turned razor-sharp when he talked about alphas who “took advantage.” Of all the rules about who I could be alone with, where I could go, how I should scent myself down to neutral so no one got “ideas.”
I thought of last night…the van, the way Lock had carried me, how the world had tilted and my body had decided without asking me that he was safe. How I’d fallen asleep in his arms anyway.
I looked at his mouth.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered.
Something in his eyes broke wide open.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Then he was moving.
He didn’t drag me down so much as he rolled us in one smooth, controlled shift of muscle that put me flat on my back and him braced over me, his elbow by my head and his hand still cupping my neck with the sheet twisted around our legs.
“Fuck,” he breathed, staring down at me like I was the mistake he couldn’t stop making. “I shouldn’t fucking want you. I’m your fucking captor, Kellan. This is wrong.”
His jaw flexed like he was forcing every word out between his teeth. “But I can’t let go.”
My breath left my lungs in a rush.
“Last chance,” he said, hovering there, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his mouth against mine. “Say the word and I back off.”
My fingers curled in the sheets. “Lock?—”
“Silas,” he corrected quietly, like it cost him. “You want to do this, use my name. Just this once.”
The sound of it in my head did something weird to my chest.
“Silas,” I said, barely above a whisper.
Every line in his body went tight.
“If anyone in this club saw you like this,” he rasped, his voice harsh, “I’d have to kill them.”
“His gaze dragged over my open mouth, my flushed skin. “And if any rival club caught wind of this, they’d come for you just to get to me.”
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t soft.
His mouth crashed down on mine with a kind of hungry restraint, like he was holding back from something even harsher. Heat surged, shocking and sharp, and my whole body reacted at once, every nerve lighting up as if I’d been waiting for this exact contact without knowing it.
I’d been kissed before. Awkward mouth-to-mouth in dark corners. A fumbling attempt behind the clubhouse once that had ended with me apologizing for no reason.
