“I didn’tletyou.” The corner of his lips twitched. “You walked in.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Right! Intrusion! I seem to be excellent at that.” Intruding in all sorts of situations.
“You are.” His voice was soft. Deep. Almost amused.
No, most assuredly amused. Her cheeks warmed.
He stepped closer.
Calliope felt that one step in her weakening knees.
“You shouldn’t be in my chamber.”
Stars, forget her knees. Her whole body was in jeopardy here. “Because you are dangerous?”
“Yes.”
Then why did thatyessound so inviting? The air charged around them. The moment before a storm breaks. She wanted to touch his chest, press her palm to that scar above his heart. Everything in her thundered to retreat—this man, this moment, thisfeeling—but her body had gone traitorous again, just like her dog.
Why had she come again?
Concern, yes. That was the excuse. But deep down, she’d known. From the moment she heard him take the stairs, from the momentshe’d told herselfdon’t, she’d already decidedto. And here he was in a way she wasn’t ready for. Bare chest, ink, scars, and eyes that saw more than they should. He didn’t hide the wreckage of his past. He wore branded into his skin. And maybe that’s what shook her most.
She hid her past. Buried it as far as she could.
The urge to flee rose. “I should go,” Calliope said softly.
His eyes—those dark storms—roamed her face. “Yes, you should.”
Neither of them moved.
She squared her shoulders, refusing to give into habit. “You don’t scare me.”
His lips curved slightly. “You should be scared.”
“But I’m not.”
He leaned in, and her hands rose to his chest, pressing against the firm wall of him. He sucked in a breath, and the skin of her arms broke out in gooseflesh.
“You’re doing it again,” he said roughly.
“Doing what?”
“Stripping me of my power.”
That waspromise. A promise of power. And the promise made something in her break free. She wanted to taste that promise. To make those words real. To press her lips to something that felt like seductive truth. Before she could stop herself, she rose to her toes, fingers digging into his flesh, and kissed the beast on the mouth.
*
Her lips methis, and the impact ripped the breath clean from his chest. Maxen didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t dare. She tasted like the sweetest damn hope he’d ever tasted, and everything he hadn’t let himself want for too damn long. And then she pulled back, startled by her own boldness, her eyes wide like she’d just stepped off a ledge without knowing what waited below.
God. Not yet.
He reached for her, his hands coming up as if pulled by a force older than logic. One cradled her jaw, the other curved around the back of her head, fingers threading through the loose strands of her hair like he’d dreamed of doing it a thousand times. If he didn’t kiss her again, he’d damn well explode into a million damn pieces.
His lips claimed her.
Calliope gasped against him, then melted, not holding anything back either. He kissed her like he didn’t know how to stop. Like it hurt. Like it healed. Like bloody survival itself.
