35. Samson
SAMSON
She walks away.
I let her take three steps. Then I follow.
She slows near the center of the large main room. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t look back. But her shoulders shift.
I close the distance.
Not all the way.
Not yet.
Close enough that if she moves, she’ll feel it.
“You stay away from that door. That lock.”
She turns to face me. “At the risk of repeating myself, you’re the one who told me to look around.”
“I did. I didn’t think I had to tell you to leave a locked door alone.”
She laughs then. A boisterous laugh that I’ve not yet heard from her. It makes my skin tingle.
“Then you don’t know me very well,” she finally says.
“I brought you here for your own safety, but you stay away from that door.”
She frowns. “That sounds like a rule.”
“It is.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to rules,” she says.
“You didn’t.”
“Then why would I follow them?”
“Because you’re still here,” I say.
Her lips part. Just slightly. Heat slides low in my gut.
She notices.
Of course she does.
She always notices.
“You brought me here,” she says.
“I did.”
“So this is your space.”
“Yes.”
“And you think that gives you the right to decide what I do in it.”
My hand lifts. Instinct.
But I don’t touch her.
Still I feel the pull. Strong enough that it takes effort not to close that last inch.
“I think I have the responsibility to make sure you don’t get hurt,” I say.
She crosses her arms. “Or see something you don’t want me to see.”
“Three rules,” I say.
For a moment, I expect the big laugh again, but instead she smiles. “All right,” she says. “Let’s hear them.”
“First, you don’t leave this property alone.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not happening.”
“It is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You don’t know what’s out there,” I say.
She thins her lips. “And you do?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not telling me everything.”
“No.”
“Then why would I trust that rule?”
I lean in. Close enough that her breath hits my bare chest. Close enough that I could take her again without trying.
“Because the alternative,” I say quietly, “is you walking into something you can’t control.”
I can feel her heartbeat now without touching her.
Too fast.
Mine isn’t much better.
“Second,” I say, voice lower now, “you don’t touch any system in this house without asking me first.”
“Define system.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Security,” I say. “Access points. Anything that keeps this place functioning.”
“And the door?” she asks.
“That’s included.”
She smirks. “Convenient.”
“Necessary.”
“For who?”
“For both of us.”
She rolls her eyes. Doesn’t matter.
“Third,” I say, “you don’t open anything that’s locked.”
She glances toward the hallway that leads to the chain, the lock. “That one’s going to be a problem.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it?”
“If you cross that line,” I say quietly, “you don’t get to pretend you didn’t know what you were doing.”
She tilts her head. “Maybe I don’t want to pretend.”
My hand comes up again.
This time I touch her. Fingers at her throat.
Her breath breaks and she closes her eyes for half a second.
I remember everything.
The way she felt.
The way she didn’t stop me.
The way I didn’t stop.
I tighten my grip just enough to hold her there. “You keep stepping into things you don’t understand.”
Her eyes glisten. “Then make me understand.”
Her words hit me like a sucker punch. Because I want to help her to understand. I want her in my world.
I step back. I have to, before this goes too far. “Those are the rules,” I say.
“And if I don’t follow them?”
“Then I stop you.”
“And you think you can?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t need to.
I’m ready to grab her when—
A sharp tone cuts through the air.
I turn immediately and walk to the nearest panel, the one in the foyer.
Red alert.
Not here. We’re safe here. I pull out my phone and check the app for the location and feed.
Fuck.
Delaney’s apartment building. I mute the sound of the alarm.
“They’re there,” she says behind me. “Aren’t they? At my place.”
“Yes.”
She sucks in a breath. “They came back.”
“They never left.”
“What does that mean?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, calculate through the noise. “It means hiding you isn’t enough.”
“And your rules?” she asks.
“They still apply.”
“And you?”
I turn back to her. Close again. So close I could grab her and pin her to the foyer wall, right next to the panel.
“We’re going out.”
“Now? You said—”
“I know damned well what I said, Delaney. You’ll be going with me. The rules still apply. You won’t be alone.”
“Good,” she says.
And just like that, she steps into it again.
Not away.
Never away.