His mouth curved into a slow, menacing smile.
“And I’ve been keeping you in my bed.”
16
THREADS AND TEETH
The cloak slipped from her fingers and hit the ground with a soft thud, but the sound might as well have been a war drum. Ella stood frozen, blood roaring in her ears, his words still clinging to the air long after they fell.
He’s known since the wards.
He’d said it like a blade unsheathed.
Her heart galloped in her chest from raw exposure, from the unbearable vulnerability of having her most guarded secret called into the light.
Jakobav didn’t have to move to dominate the space between them. He stood there watching her with his arms crossed, unrelenting. And that, more than anything, terrified her enough to send her stumbling half a step back.
She discreetly patted her pocket, empty.
Where the fuck did that knife go?
Her gaze darted to the nearest table, panic rising as she found no weapons. Not even a fork. Her hands balled into fists as her breath quickened.
Jakobav’s eyes narrowed the moment she shifted. But before she could so much as pivot, he moved, fast as a whip, silentas snowfall. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, the grip not crushing but absolute. He tugged her forward, a force that drew her against the hard line of his chest until escape became a fading thought.
Pinned in place, she stiffened, muscles locking as though bracing for a blow. Instead, his hold shifted, intentional and unhurried, sliding from her wrist to her jaw to tilt her face upward.
The move should’ve been tender, but the iron in his touch told another story. His mouth hovered a breath from hers, close enough that if she so much as flinched, their lips might brush. The awareness of it unsettled her balance, as though the floor itself tilted toward him, leaving her nowhere else to stand.
She trembled, words tumbling to her lips before she could stop them.
“If you mean to kill me, do it. Stop circling.” The defiance in her voice faltered on the final syllable, half-threat and half-plea.
He didn’t answer at first.
His hold on her chin tightened, just enough to remind her that he was in control. When he finally spoke, his voice slid against her temple in a low, dangerous murmur.
“Do not make me your villain.”
His breath taunted her skin, strength coiled beneath his stillness. Her pulse hammered on, traitorously loud no matter how she willed it silent.
The wordvillainthrashed around in her mind.
He shifted impossibly closer, lowering his face until his mouth grazed her ear. His voice was barely a whisper.
“But do not mistake me for your friend.”
Her chest rattled, heartbeat frantic and trapped, like a small bird newly caged and still wild. It was his tone that got her. It wasn’t cruel this time, but instead, it was threaded with need and full of restraint.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, gaze raking across her face like a challenge. His lips parted slightly, he dragged the tip of his tongue across the lower one, almost in contemplation. She caught a glimpse of hunger before it vanished behind his mask.
Was that a threat? Or an invitation?
Every nerve sparked. Fear and anticipation, both burning hot and unsettled inside her.
Gods.
Jakobav’s grip loosened only slightly, enough to let her breathe, just enough to let her think.
