My hands were still pressed to my mouth, as if that could sohow contain the what-the-actual-hell scream building in my chest.
WHAT.
That single word ricocheted inside my skull like a bullet in a tin can.
Adrien—the man who had been a silent fortress of stoicism, who barely flinched when I puked on him—was looking at with an intensity that could’ve ignited the air between us. His gaze was dark, unreadable, and yet sohow loud, like every unspoken word was pressing against my skin.
Interested in .
Not attracted to . Not curious about .
Interested.
Like I was a puzzle he intended to solve.
Or a prey he intended to hunt.
I was suddenly very aware of my own heartbeat, thundering so violently I wondered if he could hear it.
I need to leave here.
This is very crazy.
What if he ant that he is interested in the aspect of killing ?
What if he does sothing worse to than what max─ I shook my head ntally. No, don’t think of max right now.
Adrien exhaled through his nose—almost a laugh, but not quite—as my hands remained plastered over my mouth. His thumb stilled against my knee, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying with that unnerving calm.
"You’re cataloging escape routes right now, aren’t you?"
My eyes darted to the door—unlocked, but with Aria and Caron just outside. Then to the lamp on the side table—heavy enough to swing if needed. My phone was in my back pocket, 911 dialed in two taps. And my knee? Perfectly positioned to ram upward if he moved too fast.
I didn’t answer.
He smirked. "Good."
Wait—good?
His voice dropped, a low hum that vibrated through the space between us. "Always know your exits. Always know what’s within reach. Smart, Isabella." His gaze flicked to the lamp, then back to . "But you won’t need them."
My pulse stuttered. "How do you know?"
His fingers flexed—just once—against my knee. A silent, grounding pressure. "Because if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t be crouching in front of you like a goddamn knight in a bad romance novel."
A startled laugh punched out of .
His lips twitched. "There she is."
And just like that, the tension snapped. My hands slid from my mouth, but my voice stayed small. "You’re... really not going to murder ?"
"Princess, if I wanted you dead, you’d never have seen coming."
I shivered. Well, he is a stranger.
He pulled back, eyes glinting with sothing darkly amused. "But since you’re still paranoid—" He reached into his jacket. My muscles coiled—until he pulled out... a handkerchief. Monogramd. Crisp. He draped it over my knee like a surrender flag. "There. Now you’ve got fabric to strangle with if I misbehave."
I stared at it. Then at him.
Adrien smirked, a dangerous and charming expression that was sohow more genuine than the calm exterior he’d worn before."Do I pass inspection, princess?"
I opened my mouth, found no words forming, and shut it with an audible click. My mind was still a jumbled ss of alarm bells and disbelief. But for the first ti... curiosity was rising to the surface. Whowasthis man?
The silence between us crackled like static.
And then, finally, after what felt like years:
"You can’t be serious."
It slipped out before I could stop it, my voice slightly muffled behind my palms.
A slow, almost imperceptible tilt of his head. "Why not?"
Why not?
I flailed internally.
Because I just painted you with my poorly digested the-park food?
Because we t approximately forty minutes ago under circumstances that should have ensured you’d never want to see again?
Because I just had so kind of weird, deeply unsettling mory-slash-hallucination that seems to feature you and you basically just sidestepped it with so cryptic ’foreshadowing’ nonsense!
Because people like you—smooth, collected, walking-incarnation of I don’t know? A god—don’t just—just—
"Interested how?" I blurted instead.
His expression didn’t change, but sothing in his eyes deepened. Darkened. "How do you think?"
A bolt of heat shot down my spine.
Oh.
Oh.
The way he said it—low, deliberate—made it impossible to misunderstand.
My cheeks burned.
This couldn’t be happening.
It had to be so elaborate prank. A setup. Maybe Aria had slipped sothing hallucinogenic into that demonic kale-cayenne concoction.
But then—
His thumb moved. Just slightly. A barely-there stroke against my knee.
And my entire body short-circuited.
"You’re lying," I croaked.
"If lying is the new truth, then I’m a terrible liar..." he stared into my eyes in a weird, weird way. "Because every ti I look at you, all I can speak is the truth"
My jaw went slack. The air in my lungs seed to evaporate, replaced by a sudden, violent palpitation of my heart. His confession wasn’t just words; it was a physical force, a gravitational pull I hadn’t anticipated. It resonated with that unsettling mory, that strange, warm recognition that had both terrified and fascinated monts ago.
He chuckled lightly, a soft, amused sound that echoed through the room. He leaned forward, closer, his hand still on my knee, fingers tracing small, distracting circles. His eyes, dark and intense, never leaving mine. "You look shocked," he remarked. "Didn’t you expect to say sothing like that?" There was sothing almost smug in his tone, like he knew sothing I didn’t. Like he’d already won.
His lips curved into a ghost of a smile, as if he was enjoying the sight of , flustered and speechless. His thumb continued its trace of a line along the delicate arch of my knee, a slow, deliberate movent that sent an unexpected shiver up my spine. "Why the silence, princess?" he murmured, his voice soft but cutting through the quiet room like a knife. "Cat got your tongue?"
He was close now, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the faint, intoxicating scent of him assaulting my brain and making want to vacuum him through my nose. His gaze was like a caress, his eyes dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second. Then they flicked back up, eting my gaze with an intensity that made my stomach flip. "You’re not responding," he noted, the words almost a taunt. "No witty remark? No clever coback?"
He shifted, his body moving a fraction closer, his hand on my knee sliding up my thigh, the touch light but shockingly intimate. My breathing hitched, and I swear I could feel them trembling against . "Speechless, are we?" he murmured, his eyes dark with sothing I couldn’t quite identify. "Perhaps you’re simply overwheld by my charm."
His fingers tightened ever so slightly, enough to send a jolt of awareness through . His gaze flickered down to my lips again, lingering this ti—like he was considering sothing. His voice dropped lower, rougher, as he leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin.
"Or perhaps... you’re just waiting for to steal the words right out of your mouth."
A pause. A challenge. His thumb brushed against my bottom lip, slow, deliberate—before pulling away just enough to watch unravel.
"Tell I’m wrong."
And oh, how I wanted to. But the traitorous part of ? It wanted him to be right. But I could feel myself lose control for this man.
He chuckled again, a soft, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air like a dark promise. His eyes, still fixed on mine, held a fire that made it impossible to look away. "You’re not denying it," he stated, his voice a low purr as he swallowed. His thumb traced a path from my lip to my chin, his touch sending sparks along my skin. He tilted my head up slightly, his expression smug, as if he was enjoying the effect he had on .
He was so close now that I could see every fleck of color in his honey eyes.
His breath fanned across my lips as he hovered there—close enough to kiss, close enough to taste. The heat between us was palpable, thick enough to choke on. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in my hair, tipping my head back just enough to expose the flutter of my pulse.
"Tell to stop," he murmured—a dare, a plea, a threat all in one.
But I didn’t. And that terrified more than anything. I don’t even know how we got here but I don’t want him to stop.
For a brief, torturous mont, we simply breathed each other in—a charged, trembling silence thick with unspoken things. My heart pounded against my rib cage, so loud in my ears I was sure he could hear it. But all he did was run his thumb softly along my jawline, tracing a path of fire in its wake.
Then, he leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just milliters from mine.
"Say the word, and I’ll walk away."
And God help , I didn’t want him to even if my brain is screaming stranger danger.
His gaze darkened, the heat in them flaring at my silence. His hand slid up to cradle my face, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone. His voice was a whisper in the stillness, sharp with a hint of warning and desire.
"But you’re not going to do that, are you?"
He was right. I was lost. Utterly, completely, hopelessly lost in him.
His gaze dropped to my lips again, his eyes so beautifully dangerous.
His voice, barely audible:
"Say ’no’ if you want to stop."
The air between us grew heavier, thick with the tension of sothing inevitable. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in my hair—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind that he could.
His lips brushed against mine, feather light, teasing—a promise, a threat—before he pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my skin.
"Last chance."
I should have told him to stop. I should have shoved him away. But instead, I leaned in. My hands twitched, aching to pull him closer, betraying every alarm bell screaming in my head.
His eyes darkened, molten, like he’d been waiting for to make that choice.
The air between us snapped, charged, inevitable.
And then, before I could second-guess myself, his mouth crushed against mine.
Reviews
All reviews (0)