Seriphina Colson
I’M BUNDLED UP IN GRIFFIN’S oversized recliner reading, wrapped in his throw blanket—not because it smells like him or anything. There’s music playing in the background and Jax hasn’t emerged from the weapons room. I’ve been in the process of pouting since he locked me out hours ago.
Griffin barges in, rain-drenched and exuding a murderous aura, slamming the door hard enough to make me jump.
He looks like he’s trying to keep from punching something.
He’s pacing and practically vibrating with pent-up energy.
His boots leave wet prints across the polished hardwood floor. He freezes when he notices me.
I stand up and walk over to him, moving slowly like I’m approaching an injured beast. I raise my hand, reaching for his forearm. “Gods, Griffin. What happened?”
He looks like he fought a war. His clothes aren’t the same ones he left in.
His knuckles are busted and he has a scrape on his chin.
His gray eyes burn like wildfire. He shakes his head, breathing hard, body wound tight, like a spring waiting to snap.
“Don’t.” The word is edged with warning.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t come any closer.”
I take another step but drop my hand. After everything he’s done for me, I want to help him.
He talked me out of a scalding shower when I thought my world had ended.
Now he is standing before me battling demons I can’t see and I’ll be damned if I leave him to suffer alone.
He looks like he might push me away. Then for a brief second he relaxes, like he could let himself lean into my warmth instead of being swallowed by whatever storm is swirling inside him.
His fingers twitch at his sides before he forces them to still again.
“Seriph, go. I’m not safe for you right now.” His voice is laced with restraint.
Shaking my head, I take another step. I walk forward like a force is pulling me to him. Every nerve ending screaming that he needs me. I don’t know what happened tonight, but I know it affected him and I damn well won’t stand here and do nothing. “I don’t believe you.”
He flinches and looks ready to bolt, like he might crumble completely. My fingers brush against his arm. Something inside him snaps and he grabs my wrist, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough I can’t pull away. His eyes burn into mine with an intensity that’s raw and unguarded.
“You don’t get it,” he rasps. “I had him. I fuckin’ had him. And I fucked it up.” A bitter laugh escapes him and his grip tightens slightly. “And now Sokolov’s out there thinkin’ he can take what’s mine.”
My brow furrows. What does Sokolov want that belongs to Griffin? Does he have more invested in this than protecting me from a shallow grave?
“You’ll get him next time,” I say quietly.
He lets out a slow shuddering breath, his hold loosens but he doesn’t let go. I don’t pull away. He’s convinced he could hurt me. But I remain steady in the face of it.
“You’re standin’ there,” he mutters, “lookin’ at me like I didn’t come back drenched in blood and failure. Like I’m still worth trustin’.” His thumb brushes over my pulse point, an unconscious gesture that betrays a gentleness in him he doesn’t see. “Why?”
“Because a few days ago, someone climbed through my window to find me naked, bleeding, and bruised. He put me back together again, showed me I had fight left. I thought I’d return the favor.
” I raise my hand and tentatively place my palm over his chest, moving fully into his space.
It’s the closest we’ve been since I was slapped.
My touch is featherlight. I’m unsure of how much he will allow.
And I don’t really know how much I can handle after everything that’s happened.
He goes solid, his heart racing under my palm. The pounding of it is like a drum. Suddenly, he lets go of my wrist and cups my face. His warm hands brush against my cheeks.
I look into his eyes unwavering, determined to give him whatever comfort and support he needs. He ended up this way fighting my battles. I hate that he looks so broken and defeated. I have to find some way to help.
He swallows hard and his thumb follows the line of my jaw.
The movement is slow and almost reverent.
His fingers slip into my hair, tilting my head slightly and my breath catches in my throat.
Before I can register what’s happening, his lips crash down on mine.
It’s not gentle; there is no holding back.
His kiss is all rough edges and protective fury.
His other arm wraps around my waist and pulls me flush against him like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.
He tastes like rain and something raw. It’s an unmistakable heady mix that’s all him.
As I melt into him, my mouth opens and his tongue slips inside.
Jax clears his throat loudly from the hallway. “Awkward,” he mumbles.
Griffin breaks the kiss but doesn’t let go. He glares at him over my shoulder. “Jax,” he growls.
Jax holds up both hands. “Yep. Cool. Gonna go grab snacks. From town. Far away.” Then he leaves out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.
Griffin exhales and drops his forehead, resting it against mine.
I freeze in his arms, my body tensing like a trapped animal.
That half a second distraction reminds me that I can’t have this.
That I’m not allowed to want this. I don’t step away but my heart rate speeds up and my breathing is faster. “I should probably...”
He curses under his breath and steps back, dropping his hands like they’ve been burned. “Yeah.” He walks to the bar, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “You should go.”
I turn quickly and grab my things, retreating like the hounds of hell are on my heels.
I reach the end of the hall and close the door, like a gate slamming shut on everything left unsaid.
I crawl to the middle of his giant bed and plop down dramatically.
I stare up at the ceiling while I focus on calming down.
My mind replays everything that happened.
The memory of his lips on mine, the way his hands felt against my skin.
He had no business being so good at that.
I curse and hit the pillow. Fuck, now how am I supposed to stop wanting him?
I’m not sure I’ll be able to look at him tomorrow without staring at his mouth.
I bailed on him. I had this huge internal monologue about helping him with his demons and then ran the second he kissed me.
The real question is what the hell do I do now?