Chapter 7
LARK
I woke up disoriented, not knowing where I was. The sheets beneath me were dark and the mattress far bigger than the lumpy one in my apartment.
Then memory flooded back—Jaxton’s mouth on mine, the rough claim of his hands, and the way he’d taken me like we were meant to be together. My body ached in places that still throbbed with memory. Heat rushed to my cheeks even though no one could see me.
I should’ve panicked. Bolted upright and planned my exit strategy. That was my reflex now—never let my guard down. Instead, I lay still and listened to the rhythm of my own breathing, surprised by how calm it sounded.
I felt safe here.
The thought slipped into my head before I could stop it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this, long before my life spiraled out of control and I found myself far from home.
In each place the marshals hid me, I always looked over my shoulder. Never slept through a single night since they put me in WITSEC. Until I drifted away with his arms around me.
But now that the passion had passed, I had to wonder why I felt so comfortable with Jaxton when I didn’t know much about him. Only that he’d seen too much of me already, kissed like he meant to brand me, and had a dangerous air that nobody could miss.
I didn’t know what made him laugh, or if he ever did. How he liked his coffee, black or sweet, what he dreamed about, or his first thought when he woke in the morning.
But I wanted to.
The realization made my chest tighten. Wanting anyone was reckless in my situation. Especially someone like Jaxton Bishop.
I shifted under the covers, drawing my knees up slightly and tucking the sheet higher across my chest, as though the extra layer could shield me from how deeply he’d already gotten under my skin.
The door creaked open, and I startled upright, clutching the sheet tighter to my chest. Relief hit when I saw Jaxton. Hatless now, blond hair mussed, gray eyes unreadable as ever.
He didn’t say a word as he crossed the room, a tray balanced in his hands. The smell of coffee hit me first, followed by the faint buttery scent of toast. He set it on the bedside table, his lips curving as his gaze raked over me.
“Good morning,” I murmured, my voice still rough with sleep.
He leaned down without hesitation, claiming my mouth like it was routine. There was nothing tentative about his kiss—just his mouth on mine, like he owned it. And after last night, maybe he did.
When he pulled back, I blinked up at him. “I didn’t exactly peg you as the breakfast-in-bed type.”
He shrugged. “Needed to eat. Figured you did too.”
I shook my head with a laugh. “That’s…practical.”
He sat down next to me and twisted around to grab the tray and set it across my lap. I tried not to stare at the smooth way he moved and the muscles in his biceps bunching.
Glancing down, I took in the coffee, toast, and a pile of scrambled eggs on mismatched plates, laughing again. “You must’ve read my mind.”
“Woke up hungry?” he asked, resting his back against the headboard and stretching his long legs out on the mattress.
I took a sip from the mug, then mumbled, “Wondering how you take your coffee.”
“Black with one sugar.” He tilted his head at the coffee in my hand. “Hopefully you like it the same ’cause I figured we could share that one.”
My lips curved into a smile over the rim of the cup. “Works for me.”
“Good.” He stabbed the fork into the eggs and lifted a bite to my lips. “Now eat. You gotta be starving.”
This was more care than anyone had shown me in years, so I didn’t argue. We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before I found the nerve to ask, “Do you always look after people like this?”
He looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head. “Only you.”
Heat bloomed under my skin again, and I ducked my gaze to the plate, giving me something safe to focus on. “What about your family?”
His fork scraped against the plate, and when he answered, his tone had softened in a way I hadn’t heard before. “Tried to watch out for my sister, Alanna, growing up. She’s eight years younger.”
“Do you see her often?”
“Not as much as I’d like. Our parents didn’t approve of me patching into the Kings. They do their best to keep me away from her.” He shook his head with a sigh. “But we still find a way when we can.”
I swallowed hard at the love in his voice. “She’s lucky to have you.”
His eyes flicked to mine, and the weight of his gaze pinned me again. “No. I’m the lucky one. She’s great.”
I sipped the last of the coffee to cover the way my throat had gone tight, but inside, I was a mess of warmth and nerves.
It was dangerous how easy it was to picture more mornings like this.
How tempting it was to let myself lean into the care he offered when I knew better than to let anyone too close.
Even though Jaxton had already figured out my secret, the marshals wouldn’t approve of me building a relationship with him.
I tried to remind myself that this couldn’t last. That safety was fragile, temporary. But the way he looked at me made me wish that we could stay here like this forever.
I pushed the empty tray aside and glanced at the sunshine streaming through the blinds. “I should probably get home so I can change and get ready for work.”
“I’ll take you.”
Relief flickered through me. I’d expected him to argue. I shifted like I was about to stand, but his next words froze me in place.
“Pack a bag.”
My head snapped toward him. “What?”
His gaze slid to mine, his expression unreadable. “You’re staying here from now on.”
He said it like the decision had already been made, as though there wasn’t room for debate.
“Staying here?” My laugh came out thin and uncertain. “That’s not really necessary.”
“It’s a fuck of a lot safer,” he disagreed.
Safer. The word hit me hard. Safer than my tiny apartment with locks anyone determined enough could bypass. Safer than lying awake at night wondering if the shadows outside my window were just my imagination.
I swallowed, my fingers curling around the edge of the sheet. “You can’t just change where I live. That’s not how WITSEC works.”
“I can if it keeps you alive.” He leaned back against the headboard, stretching one arm across the space behind me, like he had all the time in the world to wait for me to realize he wasn’t bluffing.
I should’ve pushed harder. I should’ve argued, told him I didn’t need his protection, and reminded him that letting someone get this close to me could undo everything I’d worked for. But instead of fear, something else curled in my chest.
Belonging.
The thought scared me more than his command ever could.
Because for the first time in years, I felt like I found the place where I was supposed to be. Here, with Jaxton.
Finally, I blew out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, just barely, as though that single word had settled something in him.
“Okay,” I repeated, firmer this time.
He gave a satisfied grunt and reached for the tray, as though our conversation was normal. Like my whole life hadn’t just shifted in the space of a few minutes.
I sat there stunned, pulse still racing as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
I’d agreed. Just like that, when I should’ve laid down boundaries and reminded him that my life wasn’t his to decide. Or even mine. But the words had stuck in my throat, swallowed down as easily as the breakfast he’d brought me.
Because the truth was, I wanted to stay. Longed for the scent of his sheets wrapped around me, the quiet certainty of his presence filling the space, and the way he said safer like he meant more than just the protection he could provide.
Every instinct that had kept me alive the past two years should’ve been screaming at me to pull away. Instead, my body had gone still, and my mouth had said yes. It was like my heart had already made the decision long before my head could catch up.
I glanced at Jaxton out of the corner of my eye, watching the casual way he leaned back, unconcerned, as though moving me into his world had been as simple as flipping a switch.
And maybe it was.
I should’ve been scared of how easily I gave in. But I wasn’t. Not even a little.