“I’m leaving,” I whisper.
“No,” he says calmly. “You’re staying.”
And I should scream, claw at the door, do anything but what I do, which is freeze, because I see him now, really see him, and fuck me, he’s beautiful, not cute, not hot, not nice smile, strong jaw beautiful, but the kind you burn for.
Sharp, severe, predator-gorgeous, jet-black hair curling around his ears, scruff shadowing his jaw, cheekbones carved by someone who hated softness, a mouth that only knows how to bite and command, eyes arctic blue and so pale they don’t look real, like something carved from ice and left to watch you die in it.
He’s tall, too tall, built like violence in a suit, black on black, open collar, no tie, smooth brutal elegance and the gleam of metal where a hand should be.
The hook.
It gleams under the light like a warning.
Or a promise.
Everything about him screams danger, and yet my thighs ache, my breath stutters, my rage blurs under the heat, because monsters aren’t supposed to be this beautiful, and beautiful men aren’t supposed to look at me like I’m their favourite thing to ruin.
My back hits the wall.
He doesn’t touch me, not yet, but he steps closer.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he says softly.
“I don’t feel anything.”
“You will.”
His gaze drops to my mouth like he’s already memorised the shape of my moans.
“I’m not one of your toys.”
“No,” he agrees, lifting his hook beneath my chin. “You’re the only one I never plan to break.”
“I’m going to ruin you, Tahlia.”
He leans in and doesn’t kiss me, just breathes against my lips, just waits, like he wants me to beg, like he knows I won’t, and somehow that makes it worse.
“I’m going to scream,” I whisper.
“You’ll scream,” he says. “But not for help.”
His breath ghosts over my lips, the hook tilting my face just enough to make it clear this is a game I’m already playing.
“You don’t get to keep me,” I say, and it sounds like a question.
His eyes flicker. “You’ve already been kept, haven’t you?”
I flinch, just enough, and his expression sharpens.
“You came here looking for monsters, little fairy,” he murmurs, “but you didn’t expect one to find you back.”
“I didn’t come here for you.”
“No,” he says, stepping back, “but you stayed for me.”
The lock clicks.
Then unlocks.
