The air in here feels thicker.
Once I’m inside, Nash closes the door behind us. The click of the latch lands somewhere in my spine.
Nash moves to one of the chairs and sits with infuriating calm, crossing one ankle over his knee as if he’s settling in for a business meeting rather than whatever this is. Then he begins rolling up his cuffs with slow, precise motions.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Reva.”
I am saying exactly what you think I’m going to say. He worries because he has reason to.
And you ignore him because you have a stubborn streak a mile wide and apparently no natural respect for your own mortality.
You did not ask, but I’m proud of you too.
There. Don’t get spoiled.
Getting good is better than getting used to it, anyway. If you get too used to it, you stop seeing people. They become cases and paperwork and something to get through before dawn.
That would be a loss. Keep the pepper spray. Humor him a little.
Not enough to encourage him. Just enough that he sleeps sometimes.
—Ash
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
REVA
“Doyou know what happens to bad girls?”
My throat tightens. Nash looks up, locking eyes with me in a way that dares me not only to question him, but to act in any way that goes against his wishes.
Fear flashes first. Bright. Animal. Immediate. Visceral in a way that tears through my veins until I’m one word or move away from trembling under their scrutiny.
Then something in me takes one look at the room—at Shiloh’s amused face, at Ever standing there like a loaded weapon, at Nash undoing his cuffs like a man with all the time in the world—and I decide the only thing left between me and complete collapse is sass.
I bite my lip and cock my hip.
He wants my anger and fury.
I’ll give it to him.
“Kinda hoping it’s a spanking with a side of dick.”
Shiloh laughs outright. Even Ever’s mouth twitches. Nash just looks at me for a moment longer, dark eyes unreadable.
Then he leans back in the chair and says, very softly, “We’ll see.”
The room changes. Nothing tangible, nothing I can put my finger on. But something invisible slips into place. A line. A set of rails that I can’t escape from.
I feel it as clearly as if the floor has tilted beneath my heels.
Nash remains seated, but the power in the room still belongs to him. Maybe more because he’s seated. Because he doesn’t have to touch me to direct any of this.
His gaze goes to Ever first. Then Shiloh.
“Bring her here.”
I should protest. I should fight or struggle.
