Ignition Point
Indie stayed on the floor long after Kael left, the silk robe fallen open around her, the cold from the hardwood seeping into her skin. The threatening message still glowed on her phone screen like a live wire.
He left you alone again. How long before he leaves you for good?
She turned the phone off and set it aside. Her lips still tingled from the kiss he had given her before walking out—hard, claiming, unfinished. Her body ached in places that had nothing to do with fear. The estate felt different now. Quieter.
More dangerous. Every creak of the old house settling, every distant sound of rain against the windows, made her pulse jump.
She pushed herself up and walked to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to look out.
The grounds were dark except for the subtle landscape lights.
She couldn’t see any movement, but she could feel it.
The same sensation she had earlier—the watcher’s shadow. Only now it felt heavier. Closer.
A soft chime sounded from the wall tablet near the door.
Perimeter breach confirmed. Stay in your suite. Lock the door.
K.
Indie stared at the message. Her fingers moved before she could think.
Where are you?
The reply came seconds later.
Handling it. Do not leave the room.
She locked the door anyway, though the click felt pointless. If someone had gotten past Kael’s security, a simple lock wasn’t going to stop them. She paced the length of the suite, the robe whispering around her bare legs. Every few minutes she checked the phone. No new threats. No updates.
Then the lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
The power didn’t go out completely, but the main lights dimmed to emergency levels. The wall tablet chimed again.
System compromised. Stay put. I’m coming to you.
Indie’s heart slammed against her ribs. She grabbed the robe tighter around herself and backed toward the bed. The silence that followed felt wrong. Too still. She could hear her own breathing, the distant patter of rain, and then—footsteps in the hallway outside her door.
Not Kael’s confident stride. These were lighter. Careful.
She froze.
The footsteps stopped right outside her suite.
Indie’s gaze darted to the door. The lock was engaged. The deadbolt too. But the handle turned slowly, testing.
She backed up until her legs hit the bed. Her phone was on the nightstand. She grabbed it and typed fast.
Someone’s at my door.
The reply came almost instantly.
Get in the bathroom. Lock that door too. Now.
Indie didn’t hesitate. She ran to the bathroom, slammed the door, and turned the lock. The space was dark except for the faint glow from the emergency lights in the main suite bleeding under the door. She pressed her back to the marble wall, phone clutched in both hands.
Another message appeared.
They’re inside the house. I’m thirty seconds out. Do not open the door for anyone but me.
Thirty seconds felt like forever.
She heard the suite door being forced—wood splintering, the lock giving way with a sharp crack. Footsteps moved through her bedroom. Drawers opened. Something heavy was knocked over.
Indie bit her lip to keep from making a sound. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure they could hear it.
Then Kael’s voice cut through the night like a blade.
“Get the fuck away from her room.”
Gunfire followed. Not loud—suppressed, professional. Two quick pops. A third. Then silence.
Indie’s legs gave out. She slid down the bathroom wall until she was sitting on the cold marble, robe bunched around her thighs. She didn’t know how long she stayed there. Seconds.
Minutes. The next thing she registered was Kael’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door.
“Indie. It’s me. Open the door.”
Her hands shook as she reached up and turned the lock. The door swung open.
Kael stood there in the dim emergency lighting, shirt torn at the shoulder, a streak of blood on his jaw that wasn’t his. His eyes were wild—fierce, protective, something darker underneath.
When he saw her on the floor in nothing but the open robe, something in his expression cracked.
He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and pulled her up into his arms before she could speak.
“You’re safe,” he said against her hair. His voice was rough, ragged. “They’re gone. Two of them. Dead. The third ran.”
Indie clung to him, face pressed to his chest. She could smell gunpowder and rain and him. “They were in my room.”
“I know.” His arms tightened around her. One hand slid into her hair, gripping the back of her head. The other stayed at her lower back, holding her flush against him. “I should have been here. I should have locked you down the second the breach happened.”
She pulled back just enough to look up at him. “You came.”
“I will always come for you.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower, to where the robe had fallen completely open. His eyes darkened further. “Fuck, Indie.”
He didn’t ask permission this time.
Kael backed her against the bathroom wall, one hand still in her hair, the other sliding down to grip her bare hip. His mouth crashed into hers—harder than on the stairs, hungrier. No hesitation. No almost. His tongue swept in, claiming, tasting.
Indie moaned into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
The robe slipped off her shoulders and pooled at her feet.
She was completely naked against him.
Kael made a low, guttural sound. His hand on her hip tightened, fingers digging in. He broke the kiss only long enough to look down at her—at her breasts, her stomach, the bare skin between her legs. Then his mouth was on her throat, teeth scraping, tongue soothing the sting.
“You’re shaking,” he growled against her skin.
“I’m not scared anymore.”
His hand slid between her thighs without warning. Two fingers dragged through her folds—slow, deliberate, finding her already soaked. Indie gasped and arched into his touch.
“Christ,” he muttered. “You’re dripping.”
He rubbed her clit in slow circles while his mouth returned to hers, swallowing her moan. Indie’s hands fumbled with his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. She needed to feel his skin.
Needed to feel him.
Kael pulled back just enough to shrug the ruined shirt off.
Scars marked his chest and shoulders—old ones, from a life she was only beginning to understand. She traced one with her fingertips. He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm.
“Later,” he said. “Right now I need to feel you come on my fingers so I know you’re still here. Still mine.”
He pushed two fingers inside her without warning.
Indie cried out, head falling back against the wall.
He was thick, skilled, curling his fingers exactly where she needed them while his thumb worked her clit.
His other hand stayed in her hair, holding her in place as he fucked her with his fingers—slow at first, then faster, rougher, matching the rhythm of his mouth on her neck.
“Come for me,” he ordered against her ear. “Now.”
She shattered.
The orgasm ripped through her hard and fast, her inner walls clenching around his fingers, her cry muffled against his shoulder. Kael didn’t stop. He kept working her through it, drawing it out until her legs shook and she was gasping his name.
Only then did he slow his hand and press a softer kiss to her temple.
Indie clung to him, breathing hard, body still pulsing. She could feel how hard he was against her hip, the thick length of him straining against his pants. She reached for him, but he caught her wrist.
“Not yet,” he said, voice strained. “Not like this. Not when they just tried to take you from me.”
He pulled his fingers from her slowly, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while holding her gaze. The sight made her clench again.
Kael rested his forehead against hers. “We’re not done. But right now I need to get you somewhere safer. The west wing has a secure room. You’re staying with me tonight.”
Indie nodded, still dazed. “Okay.”
He helped her into the robe again, though it did little to hide anything. Then he took her hand and led her out of the bathroom, through the ruined suite, and down the hall toward the west wing. His grip never loosened.
They passed two bodies in the main hallway—men in dark clothes, unmoving. Indie looked away. Kael didn’t.
When they reached the secure room in the west wing—a windowless space with reinforced walls, a large bed, monitors, and its own bathroom—he locked the door behind them and turned to face her.
The air between them was still electric.
Kael stepped close again, backing her toward the bed. “To morrow we talk terms. Tonight you sleep in my bed. With me.”
Indie’s heart raced for an entirely different reason now. “And if I don’t want to sleep?”
His eyes flared. He pushed her gently onto the bed and followed her down, bracing himself over her on his forearms.
“Then we don’t sleep,” he said against her mouth. “But I’m not fucking you for the first time while the smell of gunpowder is still on my hands. So tonight you let me hold you. And tomorrow…”
He kissed her again—slower this time, deeper, a promise.
“Tomorrow I show you exactly what it means to be mine.”
Indie wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, the robe falling open once more between them.
Outside the reinforced door, the estate was quiet again.
But inside, with Kael’s body pressed against hers and his mouth claiming every breath she took, Indie knew the real danger had only just begun.
And she had never wanted anything more.