His expression is unreadable as his gaze lands on me. “Hello, Aria. Nice to see you again.”
Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “Well, I can’t say the same about you.”
Collin’s lips curve, but the smile never touches his eyes. “A breath of fresh air,” he says. “Brother, you picked a fun one.”
Cyan doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t look at anyone but me. “Leave, Collin.”
Collin raises both hands in surrender. “Sure, bro.” He downs the rest of his drink in one swallow, winks at me, and steps out of the booth. “See you later, Aria.” As he walks away, our waitress approaches.
Joan’s name tag glints. She radiates the same easy warmth I’ve seen in most Crescent Bay locals. “Everything alright here?” Her eyes flicked between us as Cyan guided me into the booth and slid in beside me.
Cyan doesn’t hesitate. “All good, Joan. Tea for Aria—jasmine, with lemon and honey. And we’ll both have the clam chowder.” I freeze. That’s exactly how I take my tea. The walls of the cage around me feel like they’re closing in.
I wait until the waitress is out of earshot. “So, you’re stalking me.” It has to be that. Jasmine tea is what I make at home. He must have bugged my entire house. Cyan takes a sip of his coffee. I shove my sleeve up, exposing the bracelet locked around my wrist. “I want this off.”
Another slow sip of coffee. “You’re keeping it.”
I exhale sharply. “Cyan, this isn’t a game. I tried to remove it. It won’t budge without the key.”
His gaze flicks up, dark amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. “Good.”
Rage flares through me. “I don’t want your fucking gifts!”
Cyan leans in, voice low enough to scrape down my spine. “There’s no need to shower in the dark. The cameras have night vision.” My blood runs cold, and my entire body locks. I’ve been showering in the dark ever since I left my aunt’s house. He chuckles.
Heat rushes to my face at the thought of the intimate acts he might have seen me doing to myself. “Who else has seen these videos?” I hiss. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone as badly as I do right now.
He tilts his head closer, studying me like I’m his favorite puzzle. “You’re angry at me.”
Angry?I loathe him. “You’re a monster.”
“No one else has seen them,” he says, tone flat. “I’d gouge out the eyes of anyone who dared to look.”
What am I supposed to do with that? Say thank you? My hand curls around the butter knife. For the first time in my life, I want to cause actual harm. “You’re a beast.”
Cyan doesn’t flinch. He just watches me. “Who knows? Maybe I am.” My pulse pounds. The worst part? An insane part of me is intrigued. His obsession seems unshakable. What kind of madness is this?
“Surely there are other women who wouldn’t mind your attention. Why me? Why do this, Cyan?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t want them. They don’t fascinate me the way you do. They aren’t an obsession I can’t breathe without.” He leans closer, his voice pure silk as his lips brushes my ear. “By the way, Dove…” A shiver bolts down my spine. “I love hearing my name on your gorgeous lips.” His fingers trail over my wrist. The metal bracelet clicks softly against the table. “Now, everyone knows you belong to me.” I suck in a breath, fighting the heat curling low and deep in my stomach. My body shivers under his touch, and I hate myself for it.
“As I told you, I’m not interested in you like that.”
Cyan hums low in his throat. “The kiss we shared tells me differently.”
My pulse spikes. This is insane; I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. “I had too much to drink,” I snap. “I would’ve kissed anybody.” His hand tightens around mine.
Before I can unravel further, the waitress arrives with our food. He releases me, and I drag in a shaky breath. Once she’s gone, Cyan doesn’t even blink. “You’re pissed, so I’ll let that go. Now eat.”
The command grates. I want to shove the bowl away purely out of spite. I’m not hungry at least that’s what I keep telling myself. But all I’ve had today is a cup of coffee, and the smell of the chowder is warm and buttery and comforting in a way I desperately need. So, I tear off a piece of the crusty bread. I dip it into the chowder and take a bite.
The flavor explodes; the savory stew is so good, and a soft, helpless moan slips out of me before I can stop it.
Cyan hears it; his knuckles go white around his coffee mug as his eyes darken, burning with raw, unfiltered hunger. His shoulders tense, every muscle coiling like he’s holding himself together by a thread.
I’ve seen this look before. The night he kissed me. The night I… kind of kissed him back. My gaze snags on his mouth, and I squirm in my seat. What is this, some kind of complete and utter lunacy? I shake my head, take a steadying breath. Cyan exudes sin like a second skin; any red-blooded woman would react. It’s just biological and hormonal, nothing else.
I force my attention back to the chowder, determined not to give him another reaction. I will outlast his obsession. He’ll get bored. This is temporary, and yet even after the last spoonful, my pulse is still thrumming. I drop my spoon into the empty bowl and straighten my spine.
