“Noah really thought he could put you to sleep,” I murmur against her hair. “He has no fucking idea who he’s dealing with.”
I carry her toward the staircase.
The house creaks around us—subtle sounds, settling wood, whispering heat—like it knows something is wrong. Like it’s terrified of the man climbing its stairs with its mistress in his arms.
I stop halfway up.
Just to look at her.
Her throat moves on a swallow she can’t complete. Her brow furrows slightly. She’s fighting to wake up, to understand, to hold onto me.
Beautiful.
Feral.
Mine.
I tilt her chin with my finger, watching her eyes flicker under heavy lids.
“Open your eyes,” I whisper.
She tries.
Fails.
Tries again.
Her lashes lift halfway.
Not fully.
Not consciously.
But enough.
Enough to meet me.
Enough to know.
Her pupils are blown wide, black flooding the blue of her irises, but when she focuses—when she finds my face—her breath catches.
“…Kai…”
Barely sound.
Barely a word.
More like a plea wrapped in a memory.
I inhale slowly, the sound low and sharp.
“There she is.”
Her lips tremble.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
