Kirill
You.
Her merciless voice ripped through me like shrapnel.
She wants me.
Not healing or hope or some pretty illusion.Me.The Shark, the problem, the man you pray you never meet in the depths.
She watches me with wild green eyes that contain equal parts terror and hunger. Peers at me like she’s finally found the trouble she’s always searched for.
Her podcast still buzzes from my phone speaker. All those mantras and moon-cycle affirmations should needle at my skin. I’ve glimpsed past all that bullshit before. But her voice slips under my armor, honest in the way only the desperate can be.
I know survivors when I see them. I know what clawing for daylight feels like.
I throw the phone on the couch cushion. I got everything I came for.
Jordan, who’s still wearing the black silk I chose for her, her jaw set with determination, doesn’t even flinch.
Just…waits.
For the next bad thing.
For me.
Maybe I taught her that, or maybe the world did.
I close the distance in three strides. With blown pupils that leave nothing but a thin rim of color around the black, her gaze follows me. Her heart thumps wildly at her throat. I almost expect her to bolt or attack.
She does neither. Instead, she tracks my every motion and stands her ground, like she’s daring me to shatter her.
I slide my palm behind her neck, threading my fingers through her silky hair. My thumb rests against the hot skin beneath her ear and strokes the throbbing pulse. Her skin heats from my touch.
For once, I’m gentle. I just hold her here as I’m caught between fear and some deeper, darker impulse.
I should destroy the moment, claim what I want, and leave her with nothing. That’s always been my script.
Use the tool, burn the bridge, and then move on.
But I hold back as I examine the storm of emotions cross her face. Fright. Uncertainty.
Hunger.
Her lips part, her breath quickening and her chest rising and falling like she’s already drowning in me. The electric charge between us is dangerous.
Any other woman would shove me away. A normal girl would flee from this.
Jordan?
She simply meets my stare with a wide, stubborn gaze.
Another chunk of ice melts in my chest as old, brittle history vaporizes.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m moving.
My mouth claims hers, swallowing her gasp. For a heartbeat, her lips stay soft and vulnerable, then she’s fighting back with everything she has.
No.
