His eyes go black.Not dark.Pitch.Fucking.Black.
The change steals my breath.A sound rumbles out of him, so low I feel it through the floor before I hear it.It rolls into my bones and settles somewhere deep inside my chest.
Fear should come, but all it does is wait at the edges, confused because the sound doesn’t feel threatening.It feels like a warning, not to me, but somehow for me.
Knox turns his face away, breathing hard through his nose.
“Briana,” he says, and this time my name is almost a plea.“Please.”
That does what his growl can’t.It stops me.
Knox doesn’t seem like a man who begs.Not for mercy.Not for forgiveness.Not for anything.He looks like he would let the world break itself against him and call it Tuesday.
But he is close to begging now.For me to move away.For me to be safe.
The realization slips beneath my anger and cuts something tender.
“You think you’re going to hurt me,” I say.
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to.The silence is answer enough.Slowly, I take one step back, and his shoulders drop by a fraction.
Another step and the darkness in his eyes recedes until they are merely dark brown again, almost black in the low light.His breathing steadies, but the air still hums between us.
I should go home, and we both know it.
Instead, I say, “I’m not afraid of you.”
His laugh is quiet and bitter.“You should be.”
“Maybe.”I lift my chin.“But I’m not.”
His gaze searches my face like he wants to find the lie there.I let him look even if I don’t know what he sees.A tired woman in stolen safety.A human with too much rage and not enough sleep.Someone still bruised on the inside.
Whatever it is, it makes his expression shift again.Not softer, because Knox doesn’t do soft.But something in him gentles, and somehow that’s worse.
“You had a nightmare,” he says.
My stomach turns over.“I said don’t.”
“I didn’t ask what it was.”
“Very noble.”I roll my eyes as sarcasm drips from every word.
“I don’t need details to know you’re shaking.”
My fingers still around the bottle.Damn him.I glance down and find my hand trembling.Not much, but enough.
“I’m cold.”
“It’s seventy-four degrees in here.”
“Maybe I’m delicate.”
The look he gives me is so flat I almost laugh.Almost.
Then the moment passes, and exhaustion rushes in where anger was standing guard.My shoulders sag before I can stop them.Knox notices that too.His gaze flicks over me, taking inventory without making me feel stripped bare.
That’s another inconvenient thing about him.I never feel exposed because he is looking at my body.I feel exposed because he is seeing everything else.
