Page 175 of Safe Word

His eyes held mine, locked in a quiet war of fury, hunger and guilt, all drawn taut and tucked beneath that mask of civility.

If he moved, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from reaching for him.

Then, at last, he exhaled heavily and waved it off like it was nothing.

‘It’s been a long weekend,’ he muttered hoarsely, his stare dropping to the faceless hotel carpet beneath his shoes.

His knuckles were turning white. His throat bobbed.

Vinnie dragged in a breath. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry, Genevieve.’ He turned to the reporter. ‘Let’s take a little break. The café is downstairs.’

I moved to stand quickly – and a little too eager – but Cain’s head snapped towards me.

That glare.

It stopped me cold.

Like a command carved into my bones with a wordless threat I wasn’t entirely sure I didn’t want to come true. And judging by the strain in his body – he didn’t have much grip left.

‘Coffee?’ Vinnie cut in, clearly mistaking the tension for something else. He winked, all charm and misread timing. ‘Never mind. The two of them run on caffeine and bad decisions.’

I opened my mouth, but nothing came fast enough to stop Vinnie and Genevieve from walking out that door.

It clicked shut behind them, and the air changed.

Collapsed. Imploded.

Panic bloomed, hard and fast. I could barely hear anything over the rush of blood behind my ears. My knees locked, muscles at the ready for fight or flight—

‘Sit—’ Cain’s voice cracked through the air like a gunshot. ‘—down.’

I hadn’t realised I was hovering over the chair.

I dropped, heaving. No thought – just instinct. I plopped back into the chair as though gravity had sucked me into it – low, lower. Then shame and heat choked the last of me.

Was it him?

The phantom stretch of him inside me had my thighs pressing together, trembling.

It was happening again – layers peeling back until there was only her – Scarlett.

And his breath on my neck. The hiss of leather through air.

Dread. And fire. Both – always both.

With Ghost.

With Cain.

‘Show me the bird again,’ he whispered, as if fighting for air.

Deadly soft.

Painfully familiar.

I swallowed. Hard.

The room had no walls any more – only shadows, history…