I rubbed my hands together and grinned, even as my gut twisted. “Totally worth it.”
Even if I was about to pay for it.
His chest expanded with a breath, and those blazing red eyes burned against my skin like a brand. I bolted from the cell.
The thunder of his footfalls came fast behind me. I sprinted across the room and reached the table just as he lunged. His armswept out to grab me—but I dropped low, pivoted, and met him head-on.
I wrapped my arms around his waist—not that I could get all the way around—and used momentum to slam into him. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, and a surprised grunt escaped his throat.
A victorious laugh bubbled out before I could stop it.
Scrambling to straddle his midsection, I fought to pin him down. His hands found my arms, not forcefully, but as if to test. He nudged my back with a knee, trying to throw me off, but I locked my legs in place and fought to grab his wrist.
A sharp crack from his tail hitting the floor snapped through the room. I froze—half out of instinct, half out of unease. My gaze finally locked onto his face.
His expression had shifted. Eyes half-lidded, heavy with something unreadable. Not heat. Not amusement. Something worse. Something knowing.
A tight knot twisted in my stomach. I didn’t like that look.
“You’re strong,” he said, voice low, grave. “But I’m not trying to push you off. I’m pulling you in.”
My breath caught. My body stiffened in recognition of a different danger.
Before I could process, his hands clamped on my hips and rolled them forward. Heat surged from the contact—not pain, not sensation exactly, but pressure. Position. Power.
My limbs went cold.
“There it is again,” he muttered, voice dark with curiosity. His claws traced up my side—slow, deliberate. When they reachedmy neck, his fingers curled loosely around it. No squeeze. Just a reminder.
“You show your fear so easily. I know exactly what unravels you.”
His other hand lifted, and a single claw grazed my cheek, careful, almost tender. “Look at you. Such a painful thing to behold.”
Always the compliments.
“Then stop looking,” I snapped, yanking his hand away.
He didn’t let me rise.
His grip on my hips returned, firm but not cruel. Anchoring.
“Why are you scared?” he asked, his tail curling slowly around my midsection. A visual whisper of dominance.
But that wasn’t the only thing I feared—not even close.
“I’m not,” I said too fast. “I just get tired of looking at your face.”
He leaned in slightly. “You’re afraid of what I might do. Not because of pain. Because you’d rather we fight. You understand fighting.” His voice dipped low, like a blade sliding into a sheath. “This? You can’t control this.”
His tail shifted, coiling with intention but not movement.
“You’d rather I hurl fire at you,” he continued, “than leave you wondering who’s really in control.”
“I’m not afraid,” I lied again, heart slamming in my chest. “You said it yourself—you can’t feel anything. So what’s the point of this?”
The moment I said it, I regretted it. I didn’t need to give him more to dissect.
He didn’t move. Didn’t laugh.
