“If I’m in danger, that means my precious, floofy boy is also in danger. If you want to be my bodyguard, then you’re going to have to extend your protection to Mr. Kit-Kat as well.” Kienna nods at the damn cat, who I swear nods back at her.
“But–”
“He’s a real sweetie once you get to know him,” she continues, cutting me off.
“Doubt it,” I mutter.
I didn’t think she could hear me, but Kienna lets out an exasperated sigh. “Maybe my sweet little Kat would be more amiable if you greeted him without a gun next time.”
“You’re blamingme? He’s the one who greeted me with an aerial attack!” Am I really having this argument right now?
“He was just protecting me,” she explains calmly.
Well, when she puts it like that, I can’t hate on the orange bastard too much. My resolve breaks. I’d let the damn cat run my entire fortress if it meant keeping Kienna safe and happy. Anything, really, to hear her laugh again. Even if it means humiliating myself in front of a cat.
"Pack him up," I growl before turning away. I don’t want to see the victory in the spiky demon’s eyes.
I’m already planning the security perimeter of my home, aka, the fortress, mentally mapping out every room to make sure it’s worthy of her. Will she think the empty walls and functional yet plain furniture are boring? Her world is filled with color, chaos, and corralling kids and cats alike. My world, on the other hand, is cold, sterile, and mission-focused.
I’ve spent years living for the next assignment, the next fight. Whether in the military or Aegis Security, I’ve always had an objective to distract me from real life. Now, I have a new purpose, and I’m going to make sure she knows exactly who she belongs to.
The orange tabby with a serious attitude is currently trying to bat the muzzle of my gun, completely unfazed by the potential danger. I roll my eyes at the furry idiot, but Kienna just laughs, a bright, melodic sound that cuts through the tension in the room. She scoops the creature up and swaddles him in her arms. We work quickly to secure the windows and eventually, the door,our movements synchronized in a way that feels dangerously natural.
Once outside, the real battle begins. Mr. Death Grip – I mean,Mr. Kit-Katisn’t exactly motorcycle-friendly. He senses this, too, glaring at me as ifI’mthe fool.
Just to prove him wrong, I end up rigging one of my hard-shell saddlebags, lining it with a soft vest I pull from my gear bag. To my surprise, the cat trots right in, settling down immediately with a self-satisfied purr. I secure the lid just enough to leave a gap, and when the creature sticks a curious orange snoot out into the cool night air, Kienna beams at me, her eyes softening.
The night air crisp against my skin as I swing a leg over my bike, the heavy machine groaning under my weight. I hold the bars steady for Kienna. The shift in her demeanor from playful with the cat to wary as she realizes the gravity of the situation is subtle, but I catch it. She looks at the bike, then at me, an unspoken question hanging in the air between us before she moves.
“I’ve got you, Kienna. As long as I’m here, nothing will hurt you. I promise.”
I reach out, steading her as she nods and climbs behind me once more. Kienna settles behind me, her arms settling over my abs. I rest my hand over hers for a brief moment, savoring this connection. I’m ready to guide her, protect her, and eventually, claim her. She’smine. I don't care about the risk. I’ve found my match, and I’m never letting her go.
3
KIENNA
The sunshine seeping into my vision feels like a physical assault. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming, and as consciousness drags me back to the surface, the memories follow with a violent, terrifying rush. The screech of tires, the heavy, cruel hands yanking me from my car, the biting sting of gravel against my knees… It all comes back in a dizzying kaleidoscope of pain.
I groan, attempting to sit up, but my head throbs with such intensity it feels like it might split in two. My shoulder is a hot, pulsing ache, and as I peel back the sheets to get out of bed, my stomach drops. There are dried, dark flecks of blood staining the fabric; a stark, horrifying reminder of the injuries I was too exhausted to notice last night.
Guilt and shame wash over me. I’ve ruined his sheets. I can’t let him see this, especially after he saved me and gave me a place to stay. The memory of the giant man scooping Mr. Kit-Kat out of his saddle bag comes back to me. Atlas had my cat tucked under one arm, while the other wrapped around my waist, steadying me as we walked inside. I must have crashed the second he showed me the bed, because I don’t have any other memories of last night.
Scrambling to peel the bedding from the mattress, I notice it’s already noon. How long did I sleep for? It doesn’t matter. I need to get this mess cleaned up. I ball up the stained fabric in my arms and sneak out of the room. I pray I can find a laundry room before my bodyguard notices and regrets everything.
I don’t even make it to the end of the hallway before I’m caught red-handed.
Atlas is pacing the living room like a caged predator. The second I step out, he turns, his movements sharp and predatory. His eyes, dark and unreadable, snap to mine, then trace the length of my body before landing on the stained sheets in my arms. His expression shifts into something I can’t decipher. It’s somewhere between intense and sharp, like he’s trying to pry into my mind and read my thoughts before I even think them.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I didn't realize... I didn't know I had open wounds when I went to sleep last night. I didn't mean to ruin your things."
His eyes turn hard, the color of flint, and he stalks toward me. My breath hitches, my grip on the sheets tightening, but he doesn't shout. He simply reaches out, takes the bundle from my hands, and tosses the sheets onto the floor without a second glance. Then, his hand finds mine, warm, firm, and grounding, and he leads me toward the bathroom.
"I—Atlas, wait—I’m sorry," I apologize again, confused by his silence.
He stops and turns to face me, the look in his eyes catching me off guard. "I’m the one who needs to apologize, Kienna."
I furrow my brow in confusion, then wince against the pain blossoming across my forehead. The room tilts on its axis. Between his admission and the jackhammer pounding against my skull, my vision blurs at the edges. My knees buckle, gravity suddenly feeling like an enemy.
