Page 37 of Feral King

He moves toward me. Not quickly or aggressively, just a slow closing of distance that makes it clear we’re on his turf. My pulse ticks up and my pussy clenches. I’m so goddamn mad at my traitorous body for reacting to him like that.

He stops close enough that his scent invades my senses, that same scent that I relished last night. I feel a pull toward him beyond my control.

“You didn’t text me back.”

“Didn’t feel the need to.”

“Common courtesy.”

I say nothing for a long moment. “You didn’t stay.”

“That’s what the text was for, telling you why I left.”

“You told me via text at nearly five in the morning,afterdisappearing from my bed without a single word. Then you told me to keep quiet about it.”

My voice is steady, but my hands are shaking a little. I reach forward and grip the back of the chair in front of me. “I’ve been through this before, Julian—the secrecy, the control, being told what to do without an explanation of why. I’m not doing it again. Not for anyone.”

“I left because Ethan identified the watcher. And he might have a connection to Dobrov’s syndicate.Might. I didn’t tell you because my policy is to never share information that I’m not certain about.”

“So my role is just to accept that you’re going to be secretive with me.”

“I’m keeping you safe. Alive.” His voice drops and he shakes his head. “This can’t work. You have to understand that. I’m a dangerous man, Lyra. The things I’ve done, the things I’m doing… you can’t be near any of it. You’re a good woman with respectable goals. There’s important work here to be done. I have to keep you away from it before it destroys you.”

The words land like bombs. And I can tell by the hard look on his face that he means every last one of them.

“Do I have any say in the matter?”

“No. Not when it comes to your safety.”

My heart is pounding. I shift my weight from one foot to the other.

“Fine. Then it stops here.”

“Agreed.”

“Good.”

“Good.” He steps back and gestures toward the door. “You can unlock it and go back to your office now. Thank you for the donor list.”

With that, I turn and stride toward the door. My fingers find the lock, but I don’t unlock it. Instead, I stand there.

Three seconds pass. Then five. Then ten. It feels like an eternity compressed into heartbeats. Every rational thought is telling me to turn the lock and walk away, not just from his office but from this job, from this man and his family, from the world he’s a part of, a world that threatens my very existence.

But I don’t. Instead, I turn around.

He’s watching me. He hasn’t moved. But his gaze is different. There’s no more cold professionalism.

There’s heat.

The same heat I saw last night, the same lustful need in those gunmetal grays.

Screw it.

I step away from the door and cross the room, making my way over to him, and grabbing the front of his shirt. He grins, and I kiss him like I’m angry, because Iam.

He responds instantly, putting his hands on my waist and pulling me flush against him, his mouth open and hot against mine. His tongue finds mine, and I moan as I taste him again.

The professional composure is gone, nothing but the raw need I feel for him remains. He lifts me onto the edge of his desk andsteps between my thighs. His hand slides up my leg underneath my skirt and his fingers drag along the inside of my thigh until I’m digging my nails into his shoulder in anticipation.