“Anything?” she asks, eyes dropping to the dried blood speckling my chest plate.
I shake my head, and her face falls. The need to change that expression, to erase her disappointment, grips me instantly.
“We will break him,” I murmur with assurance, lowering my face. “We could not break his compulsion. But Ezekial will.”
She chews her bottom lip, a simple, innocent gesture to her. But for me?
Triggering. It’s carnal.
My darkness latches onto it, imagining the press of our teeth, our fangs, sinking into that soft, pink skin—
“Do you… do you want to come in?” she asks, studying my expression that I attempt to school into something neutral.
“I cannot, mon âme.”
She winces. “Ah. The barrier. I forgot.”
I lean closer, and she holds still as I brace one hand on the doorframe.
“As you have kept your mental wall in place, as you have every right to do so.” That earns me a quick, pleased smile. “I came to deliver you a message.”
She frowns, a soft laugh escaping from her. “A message? You could’ve just texted me…”
“I wanted to see you.”
That makes her expression falter, but only for a moment. She squares her shoulders again. “Okay, well… what is it?”
“First, I must ask you something.”
I feel her curiosity through our shared blood, spiking with a delicious warmth.
“Ask away.”
“Do you have a safe word?”
I expect immediate shock. Perhaps a little outrage twisted with disbelief, thinly veiled beneath reluctant intrigue. Instead, I’m met with… confusion.
“Like a password?” she asks, brows furrowing as she pulls out her phone. “I just use my fingerprint for my phone—I don’t really need a safe word.”
Sweet heavens above.
I may be sated, for now. Still high on the remnants of her blood. But the knowledge that I will have to explain this to her is enough to make my darkness stir, pulse, grin.
“Not quite,” I murmur.
The fact we’re about to have this sensitive conversation in a corridor offends every refined instinct I possess. But it cannot wait.
We cannot wait.
“A safe word is something you say when you feel like things are becoming… too much. Too intense.”
She watches me closely, her soft features knitting together as she works to understand.
“If anything happens that you don’t want—if we go too far—this word ends it. Instantly. No questions, no hesitation.”
“Oh. Me and Kacey have something kinda similar,” she offers, and the feral rage that rises in me is instant.
She lifts her pinkie, slipping it over the threshold and into my space.
