"I'd like that," I said, honestly curious to see where he worked. "Though I should warn you, I know nothing about fashion. My expertise ends at 'does this match' and 'can I spill coffee on this without ruining it.'"
He laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Then I'll have to educate you." His eyes flicked to me briefly before returning to the road. "And dress you."
"You just want an excuse to measure me," I accused playfully.
"I don't need excuses to put my hands on you." he replied.
The rest of the drive passed in comfortable conversation about our respective work. I told him about my latest project, he shared stories about difficult clients who didn't understand the time required for tailoring. When we pulled up outside my building, I felt an unexpected pang of reluctance. The thought of leaving his presence, even temporarily, made the thread between us tighten almost painfully.
"I'll walk you up," he said, already opening his door.
"You don't have to—" I began, but he was already rounding the car to my side.
"I know I don't have to," he interrupted gently, opening my door and offering his hand. "I want to."
At my building's entrance, he backed me against the doorframe, bending down and capturing my mouth in a kiss thathad me melting into him, fingers clutching his lapels, holding on for dear life. When he finally pulled back, I was breathless, my lips tingling, my head spinning.
"I'll be back for you," he promised, his voice rough. "Pack what you need."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He pressed one more kiss to my forehead before stepping back.
"Go," he urged softly. "Before I change my mind and take you back to my bed instead."
I slipped inside the building, my legs unsteady as I made my way to the elevator. The thread between us stretched as the distance grew, a constant reminder of what awaited me at the end of the day. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the warm pulse of it against my palm.
For the first time in years, I let myself imagine possibilities beyond the careful boundaries I'd built. And for once, the thought didn't terrify me.
Chapter five
Watching
Jade
The elevator doors and I stepped into the hallway, the threadbare carpet muffling my footsteps as I made my way toward my apartment. After the luxury of Magnur's penthouse, my building looked even shabbier than usual. But it was mine, a safe space I'd created after escaping Trevor. As I rounded the corner toward my unit, a chill slid down my spine like cold fingers, stopping me mid-stride. The hallway looked exactly as it always did, empty and quiet. So why did my body suddenly think I was in danger?
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, my skin prickling with goosebumps despite the stuffy warmth of the building. I hadn't survived a relationship with Trevor without developing a sixth sense for when something wasn't right. And right now, every cell in my body was screaming that I was being watched. The stairwell at the end of the hall caught my attention. Thedoor was closed, but was that a shadow visible through the small safety glass window? I stared, barely breathing, until I convinced myself it was just a trick of the light. I quickly made my way to my door and practically fell into my apartment before slamming the door behind me. One lock. Two. Deadbolt. Chain.
For good measure, I pressed my eye to the peephole, scanning the now-visible portion of the hallway. Still empty. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders dropping from around my ears as tension began to seep out of me. Safe. I was safe.
I moved to my bedroom, pulling my largest weekender bag from the closet. What does one pack for an extended stay with a demon mate? The question would have seemed absurd two days ago. Now it was just my life. As I folded a soft sweater into the bag, my mind drifted back to the night before, a smile tugged at my lips without permission, warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with the thread connecting us across the city. Even now, I could feel it—a gentle pull southeast, toward where he must be.
Was he feeling this too? This ridiculous, teenage butterflies-in-stomach sensation that made me want to giggle for no reason? I hoped so. It seemed only fair that he should be as distracted as I was.
The knock on my door was so sudden and loud that I actually yelped, the sweater dropping from my hands as I spun toward the sound. My heart launched into my throat, pounding so hard I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.
No one should be knocking. I wasn't expecting anyone. Ziggy always texted first. My neighbors kept to themselves. And Magnur wouldn't be back for hours.
Which meant...
Oh god. Trevor? Had he actually followed me? Found where I lived?
The fear that shot through me was so visceral, so immediate, that for a moment I couldn't breathe. Another knock, more insistent this time. I crept toward the door on silent feet, my body tense as a coiled spring. The peephole felt miles away, each step taking forever as scenarios raced through my head—Trevor's face on the other side, his fist raised to pound again, that smile he wore when he knew he'd cornered me.
I pressed my eye to the peephole, pulse thundering in my ears, stomach twisted into knots. And there, grinning widely and waving directly at the peephole like he knew exactly where I was looking, was Ziggy.
My knees actually buckled as the adrenaline drained from my system all at once. I fumbled with the locks, hands still shaking, and threw the door open to find my best friend posing dramatically against the doorframe.
"Honey, I'm home!" he announced, arms spread wide. Then his expression shifted as he took in my face. "Whoa, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
