I envy them so suddenly it hurts.Behind me, footsteps approach.Heavy and measured.
Knox stops several feet away.“Briana.”
My name again.Always like it costs him something.
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
I turn because I can’t help it.
He stands near the desk, big hands loose at his sides, shoulders tense, face set in hard lines.The morning light catches the scar through his eyebrow and the darkness beneath his eyes.He looks exhausted.He looks dangerous.He looks like he means it.
“For what?”I ask.
“Saying no.”
“You say it a lot.”
His mouth tightens.“I know.”
“Do you plan to stop?”
“I plan to try.”
That’s not the answer I expected—it’s better.Less pretty, but more honest.
I cross my arms, mostly to keep from fidgeting.“Trying is not the same as doing.”
“No.”He looks at my throat, then forces his gaze back to my eyes.“But it’s what I have right now.”
The room feels too quiet around us.Everyone else is gone or pretending to be.I suspect Ari is somewhere nearby listening with both pointed ears metaphorically pressed to a door.
“You scared me earlier,” I say.Pain cuts across his face, but I keep going before he can retreat into guilt.“Not because of what you are.Because you sounded like them.”
His head jerks back as if I struck him.
“I know you didn’t mean to,” I say.“I know you’re not them.But when you told me no, as if my choices belonged to you, it felt...”
My throat tightens.I hate that.
Knox doesn’t move.He barely breathes.
“Like being back there,” I finish.
His eyes close, and for a second, the huge, brutal man in front of me looks wrecked.
“I will never make you feel that way on purpose,” he says.
“I know.”His eyes open.“I know,” I repeat.“But intent doesn’t erase impact.Akasha told me that yesterday, after I threw a spoon at Korvin.”
His brows lift.
“He deserved it.”
“I believe you.”
The corner of his mouth moves.Not quite a smile.But close enough to warm something behind my ribs.This is dangerous.I step back before warmth can become anything else.
