9. Havoc #2
Maybe she’s smarter than that and just knows struggling with me gets her nowhere.
I carry her down the hall and into the room next door. The place is almost empty. Bare walls. Low light. One chair in the middle of the room like some sick little confession setup. No comfort in it.
I set her down. The second her feet touch the floor, she backs away from me.
Good instinct.
“This one was all Vale,” I tell her.
Her eyes flick around the room, then back to me. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” I say. “Just telling you who to blame for the decor.”
She doesn’t smile.
Knox comes in behind us and takes up his usual spot near the door, silent and watchful, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than in a room with me and the girl at the same time.
That almost cheers me up.
Almost.
I look at her. “So let’s start.”
She folds her arms. Defensive. Annoyed. Still trying not to let the fear show too much. “I already told you. I have no idea who he was.”
“Try again.”
“I didn’t know him.”
“What name did he use?”
“I don’t know if it was real.”
“Probably wasn’t,” I say. “Try harder.”
Her jaw tightens. “I’m not lying.”
I move closer, and she gives ground one step at a time until the back of her knees hits the chair and she drops into it with an angry look.
“There,” I say. “Now you can stop pretending you weren’t going to sit anyway.”
“Go to hell.”
I grin. “That mouth is still doing you favors.”
Knox cuts me a look. That cold, flat warning that says I’m pushing too far and he knows it. And beneath that, something else. Stay away from her.
Which is interesting, because I’m still not over the fact that he thinks he gets to tell me that.
The girl notices the look too. Her eyes flick to Knox, then back to me. She’s reading us now. Reading the room. Reading him. Smart girl.
I brace one hand on the back of the chair and lean in just enough to make her hold my gaze. “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing useful.”
“What were you doing with him?”
“I was with him. That’s all.”
“That’s not all.”
“It is.”
I hold her stare.
She holds mine back.
Fear is there, yeah. But so is defiance. That stubborn spark. I’d respect it more if it weren’t making my life harder.
Behind me, Knox says my name.
“Havoc.”
A warning.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “What?”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m getting answers.”
“No,” he says. “You’re simply baiting.”
I smile a little. “Maybe I enjoy the scenery.”
The girl looks disgusted. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I say, looking back at her, “you keep talking to me.”
“Because apparently I don’t have a choice.”
That wipes some of the amusement off my face.
Not all of it. But some.
I know what this room looks like. I know what I look like standing over her while Knox blocks the door. I know exactly how this feels from her side, and for one irritating second, that gets under my skin.
I straighten and drag a hand over the back of my neck.
She notices that too. Of course she does.
I’m used to people falling apart under pressure. She doesn’t. She studies. Adjusts. Files things away. That’s what makes her dangerous.
That’s what makes her interesting.
And that’s exactly why I know I need to get out of my own way before I turn this into something messy just because Knox is standing there looking at me like he’d enjoy breaking my jaw.
So I look at him.
He goes still.
It’s not obvious to her, probably, but he knows what I’m doing. Knows what the look means. Take over.
I don’t say it out loud. I don’t need to. Because for all the ways Knox and I get under each other’s skin, he reads me better than most people ever will.
He pushes off the wall and steps forward.
The girl notices the shift immediately. Her eyes move from me to him, uncertain now.
I grin at Knox like I didn’t just lie to his face and almost ruin everything. “Relax,” I say easily. “I’m just getting to know her.”
His eyes narrow. He knows exactly what that means.
Good.
I turn back to her before he can say anything else. “Where were we?” I murmur, stepping in close again like the interruption never happened.
“You’re getting in my space again,” she says.
I grin. “Good. I’d hate for you to get comfortable.”
My fingers find her wrist first, and her breath catches immediately.
I drag my fingers up her arm, slow, deliberate, watching the way her skin reacts, the way her shoulders tense before she melts just a little into the touch.
She’s trying to hold it together. Her breath stutters again, and I follow the reaction like it’s a map I’ve already memorized.
“You’re very reactive,” I murmur, sliding my thumb slowly over the inside of her wrist. “That’s dangerous, you know.”
“For who?” she manages.
I tilt my head, considering. “Depends how this goes.”
I let my hand drift higher, slow enough that she can stop me.
She doesn’t.
My fingers brush her forearm, her elbow, then up her arm, dragging along her skin until I reach her shoulder. I pause there, watching her face. Waiting.
Her lips part.
Her chest rises.
No protest.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “That’s what I thought.”
I let my hand slide from her shoulder to her neck, not squeezing, just resting there—warm, deliberate, grounding. My thumb brushes under her jaw, tilting her face up toward mine.
She lets me.
God, she lets me.
“Tell me something, Lena,” I say softly, dragging my knuckles down her throat, feeling the way she swallows under my touch. “You always fall apart this fast, or am I special?”
“I’m not falling apart,” she says. Her voice gives her away.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Sweetheart, your pulse is sprinting.” My thumb presses lightly over it, just enough to prove the point.
She inhales sharply.
There it is again. That reaction.
Addictive.
I slide my hand lower, brushing the curve of her collarbone, then just beneath it—teasing the edge of her shirt without pushing further. Not yet. Letting her feel it. Letting her anticipate it.
“Relax,” I murmur. “If I wanted to take something, I wouldn’t be asking.”
She goes still for half a second.
Then—she leans in.
Barely, but enough. Enough that I know.
My mouth curves. “Good girl,” I whisper, and that does it—her breath breaks completely this time.
I move in slow. Close enough that she can feel my breath, but not touching her lips yet. I let it hang there, the tension stretching tight between us, giving her one last chance to pull away.
She doesn’t. Her fingers curl into my shirt instead.
Yeah.
I close the distance.
The kiss starts slow—deliberate, controlled, my mouth brushing hers like I’m testing how much she’ll take before she breaks.
She melts faster than she expects.
I feel it.
The second her lips part, I deepen it, not rough yet, just enough to pull a soft sound out of her that goes straight to my head. My hand tightens at her neck, not choking, just holding her there, keeping her exactly where I want her.
She kisses me back.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my thumb still resting under her jaw, my other hand sliding to her waist, holding her steady. “Tell me something else,” I murmur, voice lower now. “You do this often? Let strangers touch you like this?”
She shakes her head quickly. “No.”
I study her for a second. Then grin. “Oh, that’s interesting.”
Her stomach tightens—I can see it.
“What?” she asks.
“No one’s had you like this before, have they?” I tilt my head, watching her unravel in real time. “No one’s made you react like this.”
She hesitates. Then, quietly?—
“No.”
My mouth crashes into hers, and she gasps, the sound swallowed by my lips as I take the kiss deeper, rougher, like I’m trying to burn it into both of us before I force myself to stop.
My hand fists in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to control the angle, to make her open for me. She does—God, she does—melting into it like she was waiting for me to lose control again.
Her hands grab at my shirt, pulling me closer, and I let her. I let myself press into her, let her feel exactly how much of a mistake this is.
Her breath breaks between kisses. “Wait—” she tries, but it dissolves into a shaky inhale when I drag my mouth down her jaw, my teeth catching lightly on her skin.
“Don’t,” I murmur against her throat. “Don’t tell me to stop now.”
“I wasn’t—” She sucks in a breath. “I wasn’t going to?—”
That does something dangerous to me.
I kiss her again, slower this time but no less intense, dragging it out, making her chase it when I pull back just an inch. “Then what were you going to say?” I ask, voice low, almost a dare.
She hesitates. Her chest rises. Falls. Rises again.
And then, breathless?—
“I’ve never… done this,” she admits.
I still. Just for a second.
“Done what?” I ask, even though I already know.
She swallows, eyes flicking away and then back to me like she’s forcing herself not to hide. “This,” she says. “Any of it. I’m—I’m a virgin.” The words come out rushed, tangled in her breathing.
And fuck?—
I feel that.
I stare at her for a beat too long, my grip in her hair loosening just slightly, my brain trying to catch up with the reality of what she just handed me.
Then something in me snaps again.
Not softer. Worse.
I kiss her harder than before. Like I’m punishing myself for wanting her more because of it. My mouth takes hers completely, swallowing whatever breath she has left, my hand sliding back to her waist, gripping tight enough to keep her exactly where I want her.
She moans into it. And that sound?—
That fucking sound?—
It goes straight through me.
I pull back just enough to look at her, both of us breathing harder now, both of us too close, too aware. “Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. My thumb drags along her jaw, slower this time, more deliberate. “You really don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I say quietly.
Her lips part like she’s about to say something?—
The door slams open.
“What the hell is going on?”