"That's so." He drops his hands from my face, but only to take my hand and lead me toward the couch. "Come on. Sit down. I'm going to make you tea because that's what people do in situations like this, and then you're going to tell me exactly what happened, and then we're going to figure out what comes next."
"Tea."
"Don't argue with me." He pushes me onto the couch and disappears into the kitchen. I hear water running, the click of the kettle, the sound of cabinets opening and closing.
I sit in the fading light and think about Edmund Holloway. About his ambition, his schemes, the years he spent waiting for a chance to seize power. All of it ended in twelve seconds on a highway, because he made the mistake of threatening something I've decided to protect.
Jonah comes back with two mugs. He sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch, and presses one into my hands.
"Talk," he says.
So I do.
I tell him about the townhouse. The study. The careful exchange of information and leverage. I tell him about the car, the bodyguard, the driver who will wake up in a hospital with no memory of the worst day of his life.
The blade sliding through Edmund's throat. The surprise in his eyes. The way his body went slack. And the way I likedwatching him bleed out, dying at my hands. Never to be a threat to the man I…
Like.
Jonah listens without interrupting. When I'm finished, he sets down his mug and turns to face me fully.
"You killed a Custodian's brother," he says. "Not an asset. Not a target approved by the Ministries. A member of one of the ruling families."
"Yes."
"They'll investigate. They'll look for answers."
"The cleanup was thorough. Edmund was planning a business trip. He'll simply never arrive at his destination."
"And if someone connects it to you?"
"They won't."
He studies me, those dark eyes seeing too much. "You've done this before. Killed people outside your orders."
"No." I set down my own mug. "This is the first time."
"The first time you've killed to protect someone."
"Yes."
"The first time you've killed for yourself."
I don't answer. The silence is answer enough.
Jonah reaches over and takes my hand. Laces his fingers through mine, the way he's started doing when he wants to anchor me.
"Thank you," he says quietly.
"For killing a man?"
"For choosing me over them." His grip tightens. "I know what that cost you. What it might still cost you. And I know you did it because somewhere in that carefully controlled brain of yours, I matter more than the rules you've followed your whole life."
"You shouldn't thank me for murder."
"I'm not thanking you for murder. I'm thanking you for being human." He lifts our joined hands, presses his lips to my knuckles. "Even if youstilldon't believe that's what you are."
I watch him, this man I destroyed and somehow couldn't destroy completely. This man who sees me clearer than anyone has ever seen me. This man who makes me want things I was designed not to want. All that fills my mind is how fucking badly I want him on my cock, and how I want to destroy him in a different way.
