Page 12 of The Devil

He nods, looks out over the water. “It’s the only place I can breathe,” he says so quietly I’m not sure I heard right.

It’s my turn to study him and I’m curious. So. Fucking. Curious.

He shifts his gaze back to me. “Enough air for one night?” he asks, and I’m not sure how he’s not shivering. He’s only wearing a button-down shirt. I still have his jacket.

I nod, speechless, and we walk inside. He pushes a button and the doors slide closed.

“Good. Let’s get one thing straight between me and you Amal,” he says, my heart hitching as he eats the space between us to close his hands over my arms. “I wouldn’t hurt you. Ever. Not fucking ever. Even if Cassian gave the order, which he would not. I want to be so fucking clear you never have to ask me that question again. Am I?”

I swallow, stare up at him, unable to utter a word.

“Am I fucking clear, Amal?” he asks in a tone I have never heard from him. It is wholly dominant and brooks no argument. It makes my heart race and my throat go dry.

I nod.

“Say it. Say the words.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I…”

“Good. That goes for your brother too. That’s done.” He releases me and I can breathe.

After a few minutes of heavy silence, I think I need to say something, anything, just so it’s not awkward.

“What do people say when they see this place?” I ask.

“I’ve never brought anyone here,” he answers.

He says it so straightforwardly, so honestly that it takes me a minute.

“Well, I mean you don’t strike me as a guy big on entertaining,” I say, really, really wanting to sound casual.

“Understatement.”

As freezing and loud as it is just beyond those doors so is it warm and utterly silent inside. We stay like that in that quiet for a long minute, neither of us speaking. Each of us just watching the other.

He’s beautiful. So beautiful. And that gray streak and the mark Malek’s bullet left? They make him dangerous in a way that has my insides doing flip flops.

“Why did you bring me?” I ask.

He takes the blanket from my shoulders. The fireplace is doing its job.

“Why did I bring you?” he asks, brushing a lock of my forever unruly hair off my face. The touch of his skin on my skin makes my pulse jump and his glance at my throat tells me he knows it. Knows how his touch affects me. “Because it looked like you wanted to crawl out of your skin back there.”

Goosebumps cover every inch of me and all I can do is stand there and look up at him, knowing how vulnerable I am right now. Knowing he sees right into the very core of me.

Me needing to get out of that place with all those people? It wasn’t nothing. I was struggling to breathe and he saw it.

I blink, look away because it’s a lot. Too much. To have someone see you? Fuck.

As if sensing I need a minute, Jet crosses the room to a small bar. He takes two tumblers out from a cabinet and pours whiskey into both. He carries them over and hands me one.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

I shake my head and take the tumbler. I raise the glass to my mouth. Jet’s gaze flits to my lips, a hunger in his eyes that tints the green to deepest, darkest emerald before he blinks, looks away.

He drinks his whiskey down like it’s water.

The liquid burns my throat, but I do the same drinking every last drop.