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“I’m not saying it wasn’t me, mouse. Would you like that? Me following your every step and cornering you when you least expect it?”

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip and grin when his mouth tightens and his eyes widen, then narrow into a glare.

“You know I don’t.”

I reach out and tap my finger against the tip of his nose. “No, baby, I don’t. From where I’m standing, you seem to rather like my company. But don’t worry, I like yours too. A lot.”

Rowan looks back out over the lights below us, his mouth flattening as whatever had started to open inside him shuts all over again. “I was studying.”

I snort. “Mm. You seem to enjoy studying at forbidden hours.”

Rowan glances back at me with a faint frown. “Some people work better at night.”

“At night. In a building where most classrooms lock after eight?”

“I had access.”

“Who gave you access?”

His eyes snap back toward mine. For a second, I think he’s going to lie. “Professor Halvern.”

I can’t keep the surprise off my face. “Halvern gave you access to the library?”

The same professor who looked at Rowan and decided he belonged on that stage tomorrow in front of half the Reach, performing for donors, politicians, and half the old families on Sero.

Rowan glances back at me. “Yes. Why? Don’t you ever go to the library when you can’t sleep?”

“Shut up, Rowan.” I step closer. “You called me terrified out of your mind. Not Damaris, not campus security, but fucking me. I want to know who the hell is after you, and why.”

He swallows before turning toward the windows again, like he can somehow escape this conversation by looking out at the storm instead of me. “I called you because I panicked.”

“No shit.” I lean down, my voice brushing against the shell of his ear. I expect him to make a run for it, but instead he just stays there, staring out at the storm, breath coming out in a rasp. “And somewhere underneath all that panic, you still decided I was the person you wanted.”

“That’s not what happened.” Rowan jerks his face away with a glare before looking back toward the storm beyond the windows. “I should go.”

Crowding him against the windows, I grin. “Oh no, little mouse. You are staying here.”

His throat moves when he swallows. “There has to be another room.”

“There are. Twelve, to be exact.”

“Great.”

“But you’re not sleeping in any of them.”

I watch Rowan’s eyes snap back toward mine, color already climbing into his skin. “What?”

“You really thought I was going to drag you into my bedroom at two in the morning just to put you inside another room?”

Wetting his lower lip with a quick flick of his tongue, Rowan looks back at me. “I thought you might still know how to act like a gentleman.”

“A gentleman, huh? You should know better, little mouse. Now, get under the blankets.”

Shooting me one last glare, Rowan brushes past me with a muttered, “You’re unbelievable.”

I expected him to fight harder, but after tonight he must be exhausted, some of that stubborn bravado finally slipping around the edges. Then again, he doesn’t stand a chance in this house. We’re guarded up to our fucking teeth, and he knows it.

I turn and watch him sit on the edge of the mattress and toe off his shoes one at a time, shoulders tight and fingers unsteady at the buttons of his shirt.