Patience, Kai. Wait for the right moment.
I stand, the steel in my spine screaming for action. I can’t stay here and burn up with restrained desire and murderous vigilance. Putting on my tactical gear, I stay silent as a ghost in the Spartan room, and then step back outside to check the perimeter again. The cold night air is the only thing that can cool the fire she ignited in my blood.
3
ANNIKA
The second evening in the safe house is thick with a tension I can’t quite name. It’s not just the fear of the Syndicate anymore; it’s the man standing in the kitchen, his back to me as he checks a laptop screen.
Kai is a mountain of shadows and secrets, and every time he looks at me, I feel like I’m standing too close to a bonfire. I’m restless, pacing the small, sparse living area, my skin humming with an energy that makes me want to scream or run… or throw myself into his arms.
Suddenly, Kai freezes. He doesn’t turn around, but his entire posture shifts. He becomes a predator, still and lethal. Before I can ask what’s wrong, a sharp, metallicclacksounds from the back door. Someone is trying the lock.
“Get in the bedroom. Lock the door. Do not come out,” Kai commands, his voice dropping an octave into a terrifying, guttural growl.
I don’t argue. I scramble into the room and click the lock, my heart hammering against my ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. Through the thin wood, I hear the back door explode inward. There’s a shout, the deafening roar of a gunshot, and then the sound of absolute carnage.
My lungs constrict, forcing me to gasp for a shallow, useless breath. Cold, clammy sweat slicks my skin, and the roar of my blood in my ears nearly drowns out the chaos. And yet, through the panic, a terrifying realization claws its way to the surface: I’m not afraid for myself. I’m terrified for Kai. The thought of him being harmed brings a crushing, sickening grief, a pain far greater than the fear of my own death.
I feel completely helpless. Who can I call for help? I don’t even know the address to tell the cops, but honestly, I don’t know if the cops would even do anything. I still have no idea who or what the Syndicate is, only that they’re murderous, violent, and took my freedom away. What if the local law enforcement is in on it?
My thoughts spiral as I clench my sweaty hands into fists and pace in front of the bedroom door. A roar ripples through the chaos, sending vibrations through my chest and down my spine. It’s Kai’s voice, and he sounds absolutely feral.
He isn’t just fighting; he’s a force of nature. I hear the wet thud of fists meeting flesh, the cracking of bone, and a scream that is cut abruptly short. This is the beast mode he warned me about. It’s terrifying, visceral, and primal. And God help me, as I press my back against the door, trembling with a fear that turns my blood to ice, I feel a sudden, wicked heat pooling between my thighs. The knowledge that this monster is mine, that he is tearing the world apart to keep me safe, makes my head spin with an illicit, overwhelming arousal.
The sound of silence that follows is more terrifying than the chaos. The fighting stops, replaced by a heavy, unnatural quiet. I hear Kai's heavy, uneven breathing outside the door.
After what feels like an eternity, the lock clicks, and he steps into the room. Kai is covered in blood, though I think most of it is from the other guy. His massive chest is still heaving, his eyes burning with residual violence. He looks like the monster theSyndicate fears, but all I see is the man who protected me, and my earlier fear for him washes over me in a fresh wave. I rush forward and wrap my arms around his waist.
"Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?" I whisper into his shirt.
He grunts, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates against my cheek, and holds me tight for a swift moment before pushing me gently back. "Fine."
He doesn't look fine. He looks like a man who just tore another man limb from limb. The shirt he's wearing is splattered with blood, some from Kai and some from the threat he just eliminated. Kai reaches up and grabs the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his massive head in one fluid motion. My breath hitches. His chest is a sculpted landscape of muscle, marked with old scars as proof of his past battles, and slicked with sweat and fresh blood. I see a few angry red cuts along his ribs and across his shoulder, but it’s his hands that catch my eye. His knuckles are split and raw, blooming crimson.
"You arenotfine," I declare, my voice tight with sudden concern. I grab his wrist, examining the damage to his hand and knuckles. "Come on. Bathroom. Now.”
“You giving orders now?” he grumbles.
“It’s only fair. You’re putting your body and life on the line to protect me, but who is there to protect you? Who is there to clean you up and make sure you’re okay?”
He stiffens, his body turning rigid under my touch, but he doesn't pull away. “I…” The word trails off into silence, which tells me everything I need to know. I’m going to be the one to take care of him, just like he’s been watching over me.
Kai doesn’t say anything else, he just lets me guide him, a six-foot-six behemoth, into the tiny, sterile bathroom. The fluorescent light reveals every drop of grime and blood.
I fetch the first-aid kit and a clean washcloth. Dipping the cloth in warm water, I start gently wiping the blood from his chest. He stands there like a statue carved from granite, completely still, watching my face. I can feel the awkwardness radiating off him, the way he doesn’t know how to receive this simple act of care. His eyes are intense, making my skin flush, but I focus on the task.
"Where did you learn to do that?" I ask, trying to break the heavy silence, waving the bloody cloth vaguely. "The whole... terminator thing."
"Work."
"Right. Very informative," I tease, smiling up at him. "Were you a secret agent? A ninja? Did you wrestle bears?"
He fixes me with a steady, intense stare, his mouth a hard line, and a faint twitch near his eye betrays the ghost of a smile. A major victory. "Soldier."
"Ah, the strong, silent type. I should have guessed," I say, focusing now on his knuckles, wincing slightly as I apply disinfectant. His skin is hot under my touch. "So, did you enjoy being a soldier? Was it challenging? Exciting? Did you get to travel?"
"Yes."
