“Your heart is beating,” he whispered, “like a bison chased by a bear.”
The breath against my neck sent shivers racing down my spine.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, opening my heavy eyelids. “I’m simply tired.”
Malik’s voice dipped even lower. “You’re not afraid of me.”
A pause.
A heartbeat.
“You’re afraid of Balthazar.”
His voice shifted, suddenly at my other side.
How did he do that?
I didn’t feel him move. Didn’t hear a single step.
I whirled to face him.
Malik laughed—a soft, mocking sound, like a predator amused by its prey’s futile struggle.
Despite the fear rattling my bones, I swallowed hard and forced myvoice into something even and controlled despite the traitorous longing coiling beneath my skin.
“You have my mother’s journal,” I said. “I need it. It has information vital to me. Just hand it over, and I’ll be on my way.”
A lie.
I didn’t want to leave.
Not yet.
Malik moved so fast I barely saw it coming.
His hand clamped around my jaw, seizing me.
My breath hitched as his fingers dug in possessively.
I tried to wrench away, but his grip was iron.
“You are in no position to make demands,” he said, his voice a silken blade. “I would be cautious with your words, Olivia. Your stubbornness could get you killed.”
His eyes darkened, shifting into storm-wracked skies, into tornadoes, hurricanes—turbulent, all-consuming.
My muscles turned to jelly.
My bones melted into a liquid.
I couldn’t move.
All I could do was tremble in his hold.
“I could kill you,” he murmured, his breath searing my skin.
My voice was barely a whisper. “You’re a demon. Just like Balthazar.”
“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “you came to me for help.”
