Page 60 of Hunger & Harmony

“You . . .I-I mean, you look like you’re hot!” I glance around, trying to find a towel to aid my lie. “The show must’ve been⁠—”

“Cadence.”

No, no, no. He can’t look at me like that and say my name like it’s the answer to all his desires.

“Let me . . .”

I snag a random towel, and a sense of déjà vu hits me. Only this time, there isn’t a knock at the door as he backs me up to the couch. This time, I understand how much we shouldn’t give in.

I’m spellbound by his electric irises, and his cologne isn’t helping when he leans in. My weak legs give out when they bump against the couch, and I sink onto black leather, breathless and wanting. I’ve already lost the towel, so there goes the flimsy excuse. Not that he was ever convinced.

“Your Majesty . . .” I whisper, and he shakes his head.

“None of that.”

He places a hand on the back of the couch as he leans in, and shivers run down my body. There’s a red scorpion inked onto his right collarbone, and it’s his only tattoo with color. A chain hangs around his neck, too, with a marbled black and red guitar pick as the pendant. It swings forward between us, almost bumping my chin.

If I’m ever going to be trapped, he’s not the worst thing to confine me. I just have to remember to breathe. Especially when his other hand cups my face.

“But you said⁠—”

“Fuck what I said.” He leans in closer still, our noses brushing for a heart-stopping moment. “Say my name.”

I don’t think my eyes can get any wider. My mouth works on its own, not paying any attention to the warning bells in my mind.

“N . . .Niko,” I whisper, and a shudder rolls through his body.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but I hear it.

“Your scent is everything I’ve never been allowed to want.”

His voice is formed of wrong notes, molded into something beautiful, powerful. I have to take in a shaky breath. His desire is so potent, I feel dizzy.

“It’s impossible,” he murmurs. “It’s impossible to think straight around you.”

As he says it, my mind returns to our history. How he insulted me the day we met, and recoiled like I was a threat. Was that it? His enmity and avoidance weren’t hate, but hunger? It would answer a lot of questions.

And unlock an entire crypt of new ones.

“Then . . .don’t,” I breathe.

It’s against my better judgment, but I’m losing sight of that the longer we’re this close. His muscles flex, like my words are splintering his resolve.

“I’m not fragile. I don’t need protection from you,” I say, letting my hands work on their own.

“I know,” he says, eyes closing for a moment as my arms wrap around his waist and rest on his back. “That’s the problem.”

The temperature swelters further. My world has narrowed down to him and I, and nothing else matters as he closes our distance.

Only a breath remains between our lips. His necklace slides against my flushed neck, and my hands jerk on his skin at the cold metal’s intrusion.

He pauses.

Niko stands straight again, and I sit up embarrassingly fast to stay with him. As his hands come up to his neck, my own fall into my lap. There’s no stopping the pout on my lips.

“Here,” he says, pulling off the necklace.

Disappointment becomes curiosity as he loops it over my hair, gentle as he adjusts the chain and places the guitar pick over my racing heart. His knuckles linger a touch too long before he pulls back.