“I hate that answer.”
“I know.”
I heard him breathe in, hold it, let it go.
Then, very softly, “Be happy, Cat. If you can. I would like that foryou.”
My eyes burned harder. “I’ll try.”
“Good.”
I heard him exhale. Then, after a moment, the sound of a mug touching wood.
His table, probably. The flea-market table I had bought for his apartment on a Saturday in September three years ago and sanded badly on the balcony while Nate told me it had character.
It hadn’t had character. It had splinters.
“Take care, Cat.”
“You too.”
I hung up.
The phone sat on the cradle and I sat at the desk for a count of ten.
Davis would read the transcript at six the next morning. He would pull the call. He would mark it. He wouldn’t mistake the timing. He would read it as compromised, embedded by choice, or both.
The man would conclude I had switched teams. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong.
* * *
The phone sat on the table.
For one second, nothing happened. Then the line under my ribs spiked so hard I had to put a hand on the table to steady myself.
Heat came first. Then possession, sharp. It almost had teeth. Then motion.
Dominic was coming.
I pushed back from the table and left the access alcove before the phone screen had fully gone dark.
The seventh-floor corridor was empty. I walked fast, not running because running would bring deputies, and I had already had enough witnesses for one lifetime.
At first, the line steadied. Dominic had felt me move and caught himself. I could feel the effort of it, the heat pulled tight, the motion checked, the possession forced down toward restraint.
I reached the stairwell and started down. Halfway to my floor, I felt Dominic’s calm slip by degrees.
Heat bled through first, deep and heavy. Then the dragon underneath him, furious and territorial and trying very hard to remember the difference between coming to me and coming for me.
My hand tightened on the rail. “Don’t,” I said under my breath.
The bond answered with another hot pull. He was still trying. I could feel him trying, and I could feel him failing.
By the time I reached my corridor, the lock on my suite was still engaged. Good. I got there first.
He had access he hadn’t used once without permission. He used it now.
The lock disengaged from the outside and the door opened. Dominic stood in the corridor.
