“I got worried.” I wasn’t. I wanted to see her. I thought she would be happy. In love. Obsessive the way she was only two days ago when she gave herself to me. I guess that’s all down the fucking gutter now.
Her eyes narrow. “Worried,” she repeats, unimpressed. “Right. Try again, and this time don’t lie to me.”
I let my gaze sweep over her—not hiding it, not apologizing. Her jaw clenches as my eyes track the line of her throat, the droplets on her shoulders, the edge of the towel. She doesn’t blush. She doesn’t look away. She glares at me like she wants to claw my face open and I would let her.
“What do you want, Isaiah?” Her voice is sharp enough to draw blood. “And don’t feed me bullshit.”
I drag in a slow breath. “Xavier’s stable. I thought we’d celebrate.”
Something flickers in her expression—too fast for anyone else to catch, but I’ve memorized her face enough to see it. Relief. Fear. Anger at both.
“And you couldn’t tell me that through the door?” she asks tightly.
“And miss seeing my girl fresh out of a shower?” I lean forward, smirking. “Never.”
Her brows pull together. “What purpose?”
I stand slowly, watching the way her grip on the towel stiffens. I'm close enough now to feel the heat rolling off her damp skin. Close enough to see where water beads at her collarbone.
“You,” I say quietly. “I needed to see you.”
Her breath stutters—barely—but I hear it.
“This morning,” I continue, voice low, reverent. “The way you handled everything. You didn’t freeze. Didn’t lose your head. You beat the fucking crap out of Johnson.”
“Yeah,” she shrugs, turning away and digging through the dresser. Her back is arched, and the drops of water sliding down her body teases me. “So”
“So? You were a force,” I murmur. “Watching you—Angel, I’ve seen men break in cleaner situations than that. But you…” I shake my head slowly. “You were terrifying.”
She stops. Doesn’t turn. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Yeah. A deadly goddess was definitely something I have prayed for.” I take a lazy step forward, counting how many strides it would take to be next to her.Five.
“Mmm,” she hums, pulling out some clothes. “You sure are a sweet talker. Learned that from Xavier, or is that a natural talent.”
Another step, the scent of vanilla strengths and I can’t stop the smile curling on my lips. “When it comes to you most things are a natural talent.”
She whips around, holding her clothes against her chest like a shield but meeting my gaze head-on. Her cheeks are flushed—not from embarrassment, but from irritation, from adrenaline, from me.
“Why are you here, Zay?” She sighs, leaning back against the dresser. “We’re not supposed to be alone together.”
“Says who?”
“Ash… there are already rumors about us, and that’s a bad look for the club.” Her voice wavers, thin and unsteady, like she’s two seconds from either begging or breaking. And I don’t like that. I don’t like hearing fear in her throat. I don’t like the idea that I caused it. And I sure as hell don’t like the reminder that the club is watching us close enough to talk. A more reckless version of myself wouldn’t care, but last time I was reckless with her my brother was shot, and now I am trying to mind my manners.
“I’ll leave if you want me to,” I whisper, but I take another step closer—slow, controlled, giving her every second to push me away. She doesn’t. She just drops her head and looks at the two steps between us.
“Zay,” she sighs, and my name on her lips almost makes me sink to my knees.
“But,” I say softly. “I’m standing here because every time I try to stay away from you, I fail. Because I can’t stop thinking about you, even with my brother on the operating table, all I could think about was you. I cannot help but be obsessed with you, Val.”
Her breath hitches. “I am Xavier’s now.”
That sentence makes me want to punch a wall, but I swallow down my anger. “And you’re mine.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispers and looks away from me.
I don’t touch her. I don’t force her to look at me, but I want to—Christ, I want to—but I don’t.