She takes a step forward on purpose.
"Where have you been?" I demand, too raw, too fast.
Her hand lands on the front of my shirt, stopping me cold.
She smooths one small wrinkle between her fingers in a slow, deliberate, and possessive way.
Heat shoots down my spine. My pulse slams so loudly I know she hears it.
"Don't ask questions you're not ready to have answered," she threatens.
I snap, grabbing her wrist. "Like hell I'm not."
A slow smile curves her mouth, so damn beautiful it makes my stomach drop.
"Good." She pulls her wrist free. "Then follow instructions."
Before I can respond, she fists my shirt near my collar and yanks me into the alley. Then she spins.
My back hits the brick wall hard.
Her body presses close enough to warm the chill seeping through my shirt.
I swear my heart stops entirely. I growl, "What are you doing?"
"Assessing." Her tone is smooth, calm. "You look intact. I wouldn't claim you're drunk. That's…useful."
Her hand slithers down my chest. Her fingers caress each muscle as if I'm her property. Her lips hover near my jaw. She murmurs, "You're late."
"For what?" I grit out.
Her fingertip drags slowly down the center of my sternum, and every coherent thought fragments.
She breathes, "Your summons. The Underworld is ready to see you."
The words hit like ice water dumped over my head.
My voice comes out rougher than I intend. "What the hell does that mean? You disappear for months and suddenly?—"
Her fingers trace up my throat, silencing me.
My pulse jumps beneath her touch, traitorous and loud.
She caresses it. Her eyes darken. She murmurs, "Brax, you were never forgotten. The Underworld has been waiting."
A cold shiver cuts through me. Anger and desire twist together in my chest until they're indistinguishable. "Where's Sean?" I demand, stepping forward so she has to either retreat or let me close the gap.
She doesn't retreat.
"Safe. For now." She smirks.
I snarl, "For now? What does that mean?"
Her hand slides from my throat to my jaw, her thumb brushing the corner of my mouth with maddening precision. "Ask fewer questions. Walk with me."
I shove her hand away, but she catches my wrist mid-motion, twisting my arm behind my back with humiliating ease. She presses me against the wall, her breath warm at my ear.
"Don't make me drag you. Unless you want me to?" she softly warns.
