I grabbed my jacket and left the office. Took the stairs two at a time. Swiped my keycard and pushed open the door to his room.
Stefan's head snapped up. He wiped his face quickly, trying to hide the evidence. His eyes were red. His cheeks wet.
"Why are you crying?" I asked.
"I'm not."
"Stefan—"
"I said I'm not." His voice broke on the last word.
I crossed the room and sat on the bed beside him. Close enough to touch but not touching. Close enough that he could feel my presence without being threatened by it.
"You're allowed to be scared," I said quietly. "You're allowed to hate this. To hate me. To be angry and frustrated and fucking terrified about what comes next."
"I'm not scared."
"Liar."
He laughed—sharp and bitter. "What do you want me to say? That I'm terrified? That I have no idea what you're going to do with me? That every time you walk through that door I think maybe this is when you'll decide I'm not worth keeping alive?"
"I'm not going to kill you."
"You say that now—"
"I'm not going to kill you," I repeated. Firm. Certain. "You're safe here, Stefan. I know it doesn't feel like it. I know this is a cage and you hate being trapped. But you're safe from me. From my people. From whatever your father has planned."
He turned to look at me. His green eyes searched my face like he was trying to determine if I was lying.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why are you doing this?"
Because I saw you at an auction and something in me broke.
Because you walked into my club wearing a disguise and reminded me what courage looks like.
Because I'm obsessed with you in ways I don't understand and can't control.
"Because someone should've protected you a long time ago," I said instead. "And no one did. So I will."
We stared at each other.
The air between us felt charged. Heavy with all the things neither of us was saying.
Stefan's pupils were dilated. His breath was coming faster. Fear, yes. But something else too.
Want.
The same thing I felt every time I looked at him.
I stood up before I did something we'd both regret.
"Get some sleep," I said. "We'll talk more tomorrow."
I left before he could respond. Before I could give in to the urge to pull him close and promise him things I had no right to promise.
But as I walked back to my apartment in the grey light of dawn, I knew the truth.
I wasn't going to let Stefan go.
