His to Burn (This is Not a Test #1)

One

Asia

After…

His hand was on my throat.

Not squeezing.

Not yet.

He didn’t have to.

The weight of his palm told me exactly how fragile I was in his hands.

And then we moved.

The hallway was too dark.

Too still.

Silence waiting to pounce.

Every sharply inhaled breath scraped my throat like glass as I fought to keep up with him.

His hand was wrapped around my wrist so tight, it ground bone to bone.

It wasn’t an accident.

His grip was deliberate—like he needed me to understand he could shatter it.

And the sickest, most shameful part?

The terror of his touch had company.

Want bloomed in my belly, low and obscene.

Of all the things I could be thinking now.

Of all the things I should be thinking now…and that was the thought lodged in my brain.

I wanted to vomit.

Wanted to claw that feeling out of my body.

And I hated him for making me feel it.

Hated the way every dark corner of this courthouse felt like it waited to swallow me whole.

Hated that he was the only thing keeping me tethered to solid ground.

A low shuffle sounded in the darkness.

He stopped abruptly, and I slammed into his back, breasts colliding with hard muscle.

A whimper rose from the back of my throat before I choked it down .

He didn’t flinch.

Just stood there, listening.

A predator.

And prey.

He finally turned.

Fast.

Grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into the wall.

White, either shock or pain, burst behind my eyes.

My gasp echoed down the corridor.

God, it was so loud.

He glared at me. “Quiet,” he rasped, his voice seeming to come from low in his chest.

It wasn’t a request.

At the sound, something slick and awful again twisted low inside me.

My thighs clenched on instinct, and I pressed closer to the wall, needing to be away from him.

There was nowhere to go.

His gaze dropped, following the frantic jump of my pulse.

Then his palm was there again.

Heavy.

Possessive .

Terrifying…and more.

A low, broken sound slipped out of me, and my gaze flew down the hall, searching for whatever lurked there.

Then came that rough rasp. “Look at me.”

I really, really didn’t want to.

But I did.

My breath trembled as my eyes locked with his.

When he spoke, it wasn’t a question.

“You’re scared,” he said, his voice curling around me like a snake.

Like the fear I couldn’t hide was something he wanted to savor.

Heat rolled through me, disorienting, almost painful in its intensity.

He tightened his grip, his eyes boring into mine, making sure he had my attention.

Like I could focus on anything else.

He trailed his thumb across my bottom lip, the contrast of his rough skin against my soft flesh making me tremble.

Then he leaned forward, close enough that his lips brushed my ear.

“Keep that pretty mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you. ”

I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms.

I should have slapped him.

Four hours ago, I would have slapped him.

Now, all I could do was stand there, my pulse pounding against his hand and my gaze locked on his.

Something I couldn’t read shifted in his eyes.

Then he loosened his grip on my neck, his thumb dragging another mocking sweep across my skin, and grabbed my wrist in his bruising hold.

“Move.”

A distant scream punctuated his words.

Before I could speak, he was walking again.

Dragging me deeper into the darkness.