in his spicy cinnamon scent. For one moment, the world outside of us drifts away, and I imagine that I’m safe…maybe even loved. Another sound out in the hall makes me jump, bringing me back to reality, and I press myself harder against him, wiggling to get closer.
He groans. “You have to…stop that.”
I squeeze him tighter. Not because he told me not to, but because I’m afraid if I let go, he’ll pull away. If he goes up those stairs and leaves me alone in the dark, I think I might lose my mind.
“Dani?”
“Y-yes,” I stutter out.
“I’m not that guy.”
I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what the hell he’s saying.
But then, he continues. “I’m not that guy who is going to keep you safe or treat you gently. Okay? I’m the guy who kills things. I’m the guy who fucks a woman hard and then forgets her name. You got me?”
It’s strange. Even while he says that, one of his hands runs along my arm lightly, back and forth, as if to offer me warmth…or reassurance. I’m not sure which. All my life I’ve had men who said honeyed words to me, then were cruel. But what should I think of a man who’s telling me he’s an asshole even while he tries to comfort me?
“Can you make it down the rest of the stairs?”
I nod, but grip him harder.
He sighs. A second later I’m tossed up into his arms. A little squeak escapes my lips, and I have a moment of fear as I’m carried into the darkness, but then his warmth seems to wrap me again, and I relax. My head falls onto his chest, and I snuggle against him, surprised by just how much comfort his touch brings me.
We reach the bottom of the stairs, and one lone red bulb flares to life, lighting the space in an eerie scarlet color. He shifts me in his arms and I hear him typing in another code, then the door makes a strange sound and opens. He pulls it wide enough for us to go in, then carries me into the room and plops me down on a bed. When he returns to the door, he closes it, and the sound comes again, like the decompressing of air.
This room has another lone bulb, but it’s not red, and most of the walls are covered in shelves of food storage. There’s a little bathroom to one side, but it mostly just looks like a bomb shelter of sorts.
Dragon moves to the edge of the bed and crosses his arms over his chest. In the near-darkness, he looks threatening. His light brown hair is cut military style, and it emphasizes the strong lines of his cheeks. There’s something about him that seems almost inhumanely beautiful, and yet, he radiates the same lethalness as a snake.
His hazel eyes meet mine, and then he says, “Tell me the truth. All of it.”
I sit up slowly, cautiously. “I’ve told you and your men everything.”
“No, you haven’t, but you’re going to.”
It’s strange. One minute ago he was my protector, but now a quiver of fear crawls along my spine. His face is expressionless. His eyes are cold. And I’m not sure if the man he was a minute ago is the real Dragon, or if this man is, or if he’s someone else altogether.
“I don’t have anything more to say.”
He sighs and uncrosses his arms, then circles to the side of the bed. I draw back a little, but faster than I can follow, he leaps on top of me and pins my wrists above my head with one hand.
I cry out in surprise, then say, voice trembling against my will, “A-are you going to hurt me?”
He studies me for a minute. “I could easily do that…but I think I have something better in store for you. Now, tell me why those monsters are here and why you knew they were coming after you.”
“I don’t know,” I lie.
His gaze narrows. “This might just be another fucking place to you, but this is my home. If you’re going to bring trouble down on us, we deserve the truth.”
He might be right, but the truth is too precious a thing to give to a man I don’t know well enough. A man I don’t trust yet. And a man who’s currently got me pinned to a bed.
When I don’t respond, his jaw works. “You know after the shit outside is handled, Prez is going to