Her eyes narrow. “Zane.”
“Naia,” I return, calm but firm. “I know you can’t shift right now. If you walk out of here, you’re an even bigger target.”
She bristles, well aware that I’m right. “I’ve handled worse.”
“Not in a place you don’t even know. Not like this.”
Silence settles between us, tense and full of far too much left unsaid, then she moves. Faster than I expect, given whatever is suppressing her, she reaches for the door handle.
Just as her fingers wrap around it, I catch her wrist before she can pull it open, and she freezes, dark eyes on me.
Staring at her with a harder expression now, I register as the contact lingers longer than it should. Her skin is warm and familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten, and for a split second, we both hold our breath.
Remembering herself, Naia jerks back, freeing her arm like my touch burns. She grits her teeth. “Don’t.”
“Then stop trying to bolt. You won’t get far anyway.”
“I’m not your prisoner.”
“No, you’re not,” I agree, voice quieter now in the confined space of the car. “So don’t act like one, and cooperate.”
She hesitates, likely not expecting me to view her normally, like I always did. Then, she lets go of a breath and glances away.
Before she can get any ideas about escaping and attempting to go out on her own, I get out and go to her side, opening the door for her. I earn myself a scathing glare, but she gets out anyway and follows me through the building.
All the while, I can sense how badly she wants to run, but she doesn’t. Regardless of hating this arrangement, she knows full well what could happen if she did.
Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, I’m her best chance at safety.
Of course, that doesn’t mean she makes it any easier for me. Instead, she fights me, pausing her steps when she feels like it, and digging her heels into the carpet to slow our momentum. By the time we reach my floor, my patience is wearing thin, and I guide her with a hand against her back. She hates that, too.
Unlocking the door, I push it open and step aside, gesturing vaguely for her to enter. She pauses at the threshold and glances around with equal parts suspicion and wariness. It’s a good instinct to have, even if I have no intention of putting her in danger. To her, it makes no difference.
She meets my gaze again, allowing that familiar challenge to flicker in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I never said you were.”
Naia looks ready to snap at me, but she pushes it down and steps in. The door closes behind us with a quiet click, and just like that, she’s in my space. That thought hits me harder than I care to acknowledge, and I ignore it as I lock the door again.
“Sit,” I say, pointing to the couch while I set my keys aside and move further into the apartment.
Admittedly, it’s not as clean as it could be, seeing as I haven’t been here for a while. There’s a thin layer of dust over most of the surfaces, but otherwise, it looks exactly how I left it.
I needed a home base between deployments, but that’s all it has ever been. It isn’t personalized by any means, and in all honesty, I don’t care much about it. It’s a standard two-bedroom, with a typical-looking interior for the area, and it’s good enough to crash in. My real home is back on the island, waiting for me to return.
As expected, Naia doesn’t move. She just takes the place in, then crosses her arms and looks at me. “That’s not a command I’m interested in following.”
Why would it be?
With a slow exhale, I drag a hand down my face and head toward the kitchen. “Fine, then stand. Pace. Break something if it makes you feel better. Just stay put.”
Her expression shifts to a vaguely irritated one, but she doesn’t argue, which feels like progress, regardless of how slight.
At the fridge, I grab a water bottle and toss it in her direction, which she catches easily, followed by a lack of thanks, as expected.
Leaning back against the counter, I study her properly for the first time since we left the auction. Up close, the subtle bruising on her arms and shoulders looks worse, and I can only assume the lingering suppressant is responsible for her slow healing. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t relax either, despite being away from that place.
“Start talking.”
