He gently lowers my legs so they rest across his lap.
“Do the same, Talon,” he says, without glancing over. “Cass, flatten your seats.”
Cassian exhales through his nose like a bull holding back a charge.
But he listens.
With one smooth motion, he hits the controls beside him, slamming his own seat back, and then mine.
In seconds, the entire back of the car becomes one sprawling plane of leather and heat, broken only by the stubborn middle console.
Wow.
Not only does this car look like a demon on wheels, but it can flatten the entire back row straight into the trunk.
Where do you even get something like this?
“Don’t look too impressed, Little Grim,” Talon says, catching my expression.
“I know what to bargain for in cars.”
It makes me smile.
Just barely.
Just for a second, as I forget what’s at stake and why we’re even doing this.
Well, the main reason anyway.
“Do I want to know how many women have ended up sprawled back here?”
Talon’s grin flashes in the dark. “No, but I could give you an educated guess. Ballpark. With graphs.”
A low sound rumbles from Cassian’s throat. “Talon.”
“What? Just being honest.” He’s already kicking off his boots. “Turning down sex isn’t exactly something I do.”
Nathaniel’s hands slide to my calves. His palms are cold, a little bony, but steady, just like everything he does. I’ve never seen his hands tremble. He positions me with the same calm focus he uses when talking about murder.
And those hands—those firm, guilty hands that have done terrible things—caress my legs so gently, it’s like he’s someone else.
I look at him. That storm buried deep in his soul is starting to surface. It would be easy to get lost in it, if Cassian didn’t cup my jaw and force me to look at him instead.
“You tell me when it’s too much,” he says. “You hear me?”
I nod.
“Use words,” he growls.
“Yes.”
He kisses me. It’s not like what almost happened in the car on the Candy Maker’s street. There was tension, hunger, something dark simmering between us, but even then, he held back. He didn’t kiss me.
The last time he did was after I saved his life, when I forced his soul back into his body, refusing to let him go. That kiss had felt like a promise wrapped in desperation. Raw. Desperate. Brutal.
This one? It feels the same. Just as violent. Just as consuming. Just as claiming.
Butmore.
