Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 60921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
The safehouse, Aegis, is… nicer than I expected.
Of course it is.
Maddox doesn’t half-protect.
The place is modern and warm, the kind of condo you’d imagine a rich introvert buying after he decided he deserves peace. Neutral couch. Thick rugs. Clean lines. Two bedrooms. A stocked fridge.
No internet.
Secure intranet only.
Lark drops the duffel by the kitchen island and turns slowly, taking it in. “Okay,” she says softly. “This is almost too comfortable for a place we might die.”
“Don’t say that in the nice safehouse,” I reply.
She looks at me, eyebrows lifting.
I can see the exhaustion under the humor now. The strain she won’t name. The fear she’ll only admit at 2 a.m. when the room is dark and my hand is on her back.
I promised her we’d run together.
I meant it.
But promises don’t cancel instinct.
And my instinct is loud right now.
End this.
Now.
Don’t let her pay the price for your war.
Lark steps closer, her boots soft on the rug. She reaches up and cups my jaw, thumb grazing the corner of my mouth. “You’re doing the thing,” she says.
“What thing?”
“The one where your brain goes somewhere dangerous,” she replies. “And you try to pretend you’re still here.”
I catch her wrist gently. “I’m here.”
“Half,” she counters.
I should lie.
I don’t.
“I don’t like this,” I admit quietly. “You being on a board like a prize.”
Her face softens. “I’m not a prize,” she says. “I’m a problem.”
“Yeah,” I say, a reluctant smile tugging at my mouth. “You are.”
She leans in and kisses me.
Slow.
Grounding.
Not the kind of kiss that tries to erase fear—more like the kind that says we can carry it together.
I let it happen for about three seconds before my restraint snaps like cheap code.
I pull her closer by the waist, lifting her onto the counter with a little stunned gasp. Her legs bracket my hips, boots knocking softly against the cabinet doors.
“Knight—”
“Yeah,” I murmur against her mouth.
Her hands slide into my hair, nails scraping my scalp in a way that rewires my entire nervous system.
I kiss her harder.
Hungrier.
Like the road and the cabin and the crash and the ugly hotel room were all just foreplay for the relief of having her alive in my arms.
She makes a sound—half laugh, half sigh—and I feel it everywhere.
“Are we allowed to be this turned on while being actively hunted?” she breathes.
“Probably not,” I say.
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
I skim kisses down her jaw, to her throat, pausing at the pulse there like I can memorize her heartbeat through my mouth. Her fingers tug my shirt up. I pull it over my head without breaking eye contact.
Her gaze drops to my chest.
Then back up.
The heat in her expression is enough to make me lose coherence.
“Birdie,” I warn.
She smiles. “You told me you love honest weird,” she says.
“That is true.”
“Then here’s mine,” she says softly, tugging me closer by the back of my neck. “I feel safer when you want me.”
My breath catches.
That lands somewhere deep.
Somewhere tender.
Somewhere dangerous.
I press my forehead to hers. “You are not a coping mechanism,” I say.
“Neither are you,” she whispers. “You’re my choice.”
I kiss her again. We make out like we’re starving. Like the world could end in the next hour and we’d rather spend it tasting each other than giving fear the satisfaction of our silence.
My hands slide under her jacket, finding the warmth of her skin, the curve of her waist. Hers fumble my belt like she’s laughing at herself and also not laughing at all.
“God,” she murmurs, breathless. “You’re so different when you stop pretending you’re unbreakable.”
“I never pretended that with you.”
She pauses. The softness in her face almost ruins me. “Yes, you did,” she says quietly. “But you’re not very good at lying to me.”
I give a humorless huff. “Yeah,” I admit. “I’m not.”
We end up on the couch.
Somehow.
The logistics blur.
Her straddling me, my mouth at her neck, her laugh muffled against my shoulder when I mutter something that probably sounds more possessive than romantic.
Her hands slide under my jaw, anchoring me. “This will be over soon,” she whispers, like she’s trying to believe the words herself.
“I know,” I answer back, because I plan on ending this tonight. Now.
I want to catch the fuckers behind this. I also want to burn the entire bounty board to ash before sunrise. I don’t say either of those things. Instead I kiss her until the question melts into a sigh.
She glides her hips over my lap, and we both make quick work getting to each other. Clothing becomes a memory, and the next thing I know is I’m pushing deep inside her.
“You’re such a good girl,” I whisper close to her ear as she arches her back, purple hair falling down her back in waves. “Such a good fucking girl.”
She rests her hands on my shoulder. “Yeah?” She smiles at me, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You like when I’m good?”