He feels it too. I can tell by the way his muscles tense under my touch, the slight hitch in his breathing.
But instead of pulling away, I let my fingers tighten around his arm. Just slightly. Just enough to feel the solid warmth of him beneath his suit jacket. Just enough to remember what those hands felt like when they weren’t being so careful, so controlled.
“I can walk back to my room on my own,” I say, but I don’t let go. My voice comes out breathier than I intended, and I curse myself for how easily he affects me.
Blue’s smile is knowing, dangerous. “Of course you can.” His voice drops lower, intimate. “But do you want to?”
I should say yes. I should drop his arm and pretend that night in the dressing room never happened. I should act like we’re having a polite conversation about supervision instead of dancing around the fact that he had his mouth on me and we’ve barely acknowledged it.
Instead, I find myself stepping closer.
“Maybe not,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
We walk through the house in silence, our footsteps ricocheting off the floors. But it’s a different kind of silence now. I’m acutely aware of every place our bodies almost touch, the way he adjusts his pace to match mine. The portraits watch us pass, their painted eyes following our progress through halls that seem to stretch forever. I try not to look at them, but it’s impossible.
We climb the stairs in silence, the candelabras casting our shadows long and strange against the walls. Our shadows movetogether on the wall like dancers, intertwining and separating with each step. When we reach the door to my room, I stop.
“People will notice I’m gone.”
“What people?” Blue asks gently. “Your employer at the jazz club who pays you in tips? The landlord who’ll evict you for missing rent? The credit card companies who’ve already maxed out your accounts? The Crow cleaned out your apartment to make it look like you skipped town.”
Each word is like a small slap, a reminder of how precarious my existence really was. “I had people...”
“Did you?” He leans against the doorframe, studying me.
I say nothing.
“You agreed to stay one night,” Blue says when I don’t answer. “Honor that agreement. Tomorrow we’ll talk about what comes next.” He pauses. “And we’ll discuss your proposal.”
I push open the door to my room, and whatever argument I was maybe planning dies in my throat.
The space has been transformed. Where before it was beautiful but impersonal, now it feels... lived in. My clothes from New York are hanging in the armoire—everything from my closet. My books are arranged on the nightstand. My jewelry box sits on the vanity, and when I open it, my mother’s necklace is nestled safely inside.
“How did you—”
“Hans found the compound where the Crow had your stuff,” Blue says from the doorway. “I thought you might want familiar things around you.”
I pick up one of my books—a battered paperback copy ofJane Eyrethat I’ve read probably twenty times.
“You brought everything.”
“Everything that I believe mattered, but we put the bigger pieces of furniture in storage. If I missed something, let me know and I’ll have Wren find it.”
I set the book down and turn to face him. “I hate them. The Crow.” I pound my chest. “The kind of hate that burns inside.”
“I know.” He reaches for my hand and I let him take it, his fingers warm and sure as they close around mine. His eyes are soft, understanding. “And we’ll have that conversation tomorrow.”
Before he can leave, I step closer. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his stare, close enough that if I wanted to, I could reach up and touch that perfectly trimmed beard, trace the strong line of his jaw.
“Blue,” I say.
He goes very still. “Saylor.”
For a moment, his careful control slips. I see the hunger, the way his gaze drops to my lips before snapping back up. The way his breathing changes.
Then he steps back, breaking the spell.
“Get some sleep,” he says, but isn’t quite steady.
