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Not dramatic.
Somehow that makes it more terrifying.
“You really would’ve broken that guy’s wrist earlier today,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
God.
“And that doesn’t concern you?”
His gaze slides to mine slowly. “Should it?”
Probably.
Definitely.
Instead, heat blooms low in my stomach because apparently my survival instincts are broken.
“You know what your problem is?” I ask softly.
“What?”
“You say insane things like they’re completely normal.”
“They are normal.”
“To mountain men raised by wolves maybe.”
That finally gets a real smile out of him.
Small.
Crooked.
Dangerously attractive.
“You calling me feral?”
“I’m calling you one flannel shirt away from living entirely off deer meat and intimidation.”
“I already do that.”
I laugh before I can stop myself.
The sound surprises both of us.
Rhett’s expression shifts instantly at hearing it, something warmer moving beneath all that control.
“There it is again,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“That sound.”
The way he says it makes my stomach tighten harder than fear ever could.
