I should've seen it coming. Should've sensed it. But my senses were distracted by the scent of her skin, the way her breath caught when I stepped in, the lingering memory of her blood still branded behind my teeth.
I register the attack half a second too late.
I shift just enough to avoid the branch driving through my chest.
Asher moves faster. He's already between us, hand snapping around her wrist like a steel trap.
The stake clatters to the floor.
She wouldn't have landed the hit. But she tried.
My vision tunnels.
A surge of fury rips through me, hot, wild, and unfiltered. And before Asher can say a word, I've got her.
I wrench her from his grip and slam her against the wall, her back to me, her body flush with mine. My hand traps both wrists behind her back. My other clamps around her throat.
Not choking, but controlling, dominating the moment.
Her pulse thuds against my palm, fast and frantic.
My fangs drop, instincts flaring.
I'm drowning in her scent—damp skin, wild nature, that subtle, maddening sweetness that still lives in my memory from a year ago. Her blood is carved into me like a curse I never shook.
Lightning flashes through the window. Thunder booms overhead, shaking the glass.
I lean in close to her ear, my voice low, the edges honed sharp with fury.
"Well, well, well," I murmur, almost fond. "Spirited, aren't we? Trying to stake two vampires while wearing only a shirt that barely covers your thighs."
She struggles, twisting in my grip. Her body presses into mine, and hell if that doesn't ignite a very different hunger. The storm outside has nothing on what's boiling beneath my skin.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't rip your throat out right now, sunshine?" I ask, voice smooth.
I don't mean it. Killing her would be too quick and merciful.
Her breath is ragged when she replies. "What does it matter, now or later? You were going to kill me anyway."
From behind us, Asher finally speaks, "We're not going to kill you."
"Right," she murmurs.
She doesn't believe him. Smart girl.
"Kayden," he adds, firmer now. "Let her go. She's terrified."
I don't turn. "Seriously, brother? Your kumbaya methods extend to this?" I press a little closer, letting her feel exactly how much danger she's in. "She tricked me. Drugged me. Drained me. Left me to burn. Now she's tried to kill me again, and you want to play therapist?"
"She won't give us answers if she's dead," Asher says, flat as stone.
His voice is calm, but I don't need to look back to feel the heat of his disapproval bleeding off him.
We both know I've killed for less. Far less.
"Then let me go," she snaps, twisting in my grip.
Her movements are wild and useless. That damn shirt rides up as she struggles, exposing bare skin in flashes, just enough to push the wrong kind of heat through me.
