I barely get the words out before he moves.
"Shh," he says, closing the distance with predatory ease. One arm lifts above me, palm flat against the door, and I hear it shut behind me with a soft, definitive click.
He's so close now. That scent of spice, whiskey, and everything sinful envelops me.
His grin widens as he towers over me, his head tilted in that lazy, maddening way that makes him look like he's enjoying this a little too much. Like a lion playing with its food.
His other hand comes up, deceptively gentle. He pries open the fingers of my fist one by one, until the rolled-up bills lie exposed in my palm.
The air between us tightens. The room shrinks.
"A kidnapper, a runaway, and a thief," he murmurs, eyes glinting. "You really are full of surprises, sunshine."
I swallow, throat dry. My gaze drops in shame, or maybe just to escape the heat of his. "It's not like you're short on cash," I mutter. Even to my ears, it sounds like a pathetic excuse.
His fingers brush my chin, tilting it back up. Forcing me to meet the burn of his stare.
"That's not the point. We're not lacking, sure," he says, voice velvety and low. "But there's this quaint little concept calleddecency. You don't rob the people who patch you up, give you shelter, warmth..." His eyes flick down to his brother's shirt still on me, then slowly back to mine. "And their clothes."
He leans in close enough for me to feel the hum of his dangerous presence under my skin.
I can't breathe. Can't think. My grip loosens, and everything falls from my hands. The bills, my clothes, the remnants of my escape plan—all hitting the floor with a soft, humiliating thud.
"What now?" I ask, the tremble in my voice not fully hidden. "You gonna hurt me? Kill me?"
I lift my chin, trying for defiance, but his touch lingers, and I know it's too late to pretend I'm not shaken.
He chuckles, dark and low, a sound that curls through my spine.
"Hurt you? Kill you?" he echoes, tone thick with mockery and something feral. He leans in again, his mouth brushing myear. "If I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this delightful conversation."
He draws back just enough to see my face, his eyes burning dangerously.
"But hurt you?" His grin sharpens. "Now that wouldn't be out of the question. Especially when someone's been very,verybad."
It's a threat, but his tone… his tone is more seductive than menacing.
My breath catches again. That same electricity from the club coils in the space between us, thick and alive. I feel it skimming over my skin, setting every nerve on edge.
My lips part, maybe to argue, maybe to speak another lie, but nothing comes out.
His gaze drops to them.
"So, Sage," he says, drawing out my name like he's savoring it. "Tell me... what exactly should I do with a pretty little thief who thought she could rob her hosts?"
The intensity of his presence, the sheer power radiating off him, make my knees weak. I realize I can't sense anything else, not even that chronic hum I've lived with since becoming a nymph. Just him. Ever since I heard his voice, it's like he eclipsed the world.
I look up at him. His eyes hold a feral glint that's pinning me in place. We're dancing on the edge between seduction and violence. It's a dangerous game, and somehow, I'm choosing to play it.
"I don't know… what do you have in mind?"
His grin widens.
Kayden
I look into her big green eyes—bright with trepidation, laced with defiance.
Even after getting caught red-handed, she's still pretending to have the upper hand. Cute.
