His hand slid to the back of her neck. He pushed onto his forearm and leaned over her, savoring the way her piercing eyes watched him, the way her chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths, the way her cheeks stained darker.
He again brushed his thumb across her temple. “What do you want, little wolf?”
Her eyes sharpened. Clarity filled her expression, all that brilliant fire roaring to life.
“I want you to ruin our friendship.”
Quentin couldn’t stop his smirk. “That’s a little cynical, don’t you think?”
“Then look me in the eye, and tell me nothing would change.”
Quentin’s smile faltered. His gaze bounced between her eyes, falling to her lips, then back up.
“I can’t,” he murmured. “Becauseeverythingwould change. But I’ve never craved change more than I do at this exact moment.”
Delaynie nodded. Her hand found his arm, nails digging into his skin.
“Good.”
Time slowed.
Quentin lowered himself, hovering just over her lips. Her sweet scent accosted him, sweeping over his skin, sinking into his lungs with each heavy breath.Finally, his body begged.Finally.
Her lips brushed his, softer than velvet.
Their apartment door slammed open with a booming crash. Booted steps thundered through the living room.
Quentin snapped up, throwing his body between Delaynie and the closed bedroom door. He scanned the floor, searching for his baldric, grateful he’d changed into a fresh pair of cotton trousers.
There—his knives were thrown carelessly in the corner. He was ready to leap off the bed for them when a small hand wrapped around his wrist.
“Quentin—”
It was too late.
Their bedroom door burst open, kicked in so hard it splintered off the hinges. A dozen men wearing dark cloaks and masks that revealed nothing but their eyes swept into the room, curved swords drawn and readied.
“What thefuckis this?—”
Three men surged for the bed, grabbing Quentin by both arms. He roared, kicking out furiously, until more men secured his legs, too.
Delaynie cried out, terror filling her voice, and his vision turned red.
“Don’t you dare fuckingtouchher.”
“She’s not who we want.” The voice in his ear was deep and scratchy, pitched with the Kizar accent. “Come with us willingly, and she won’t be harmed.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Quentin snarled. He threw all his strength back into this fight. He was alreadydisadvantaged without his knives, so he used his nails and teeth and arms and legs, brawling like a wild animal.
Nothing could shake his captors. There were too many of them. They overpowered him, overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t get free.
Helplessness filled his chest, but fuck, he couldn’t stop fighting. Not as Delaynie’s cries turned pleading, her sobs breaking through the madness.
The men started to drag him forward. Off the bed, out of the room. Away from her.
“No!” he roared again. “Delaynie!”
He was desperate. He was losing. And he couldn’t lose her.
