ra

skin, and listened to the silence. It was a heavy, watchful thing, punctuated only by the crackle of the fire and the

he night, my weary mind finally gave in. I

ghtmares c

of champagne glasses at the inaugural ball. And then, the cold, unforgiving steel of a gun barrel pressed right betwee

nning down a dark corridor of assas

und I was powerless to stop. My body curled in

gh alert. He had been trained to react to any sound out of the ordinary, and the

nstinct was

tion. A di

he predatory grace of a panther, his bare feet making no sound on the thick rug. He c

dark tangle on the white pillows. My brow was furrowed, my lashes wet. A tear trac

ontrast to the sharp-witted, defiant woman

. It felt like annoyance, but it was laced with s

nclear even to himself. To shake me aw

n brush my skin, my hand sho

fingers clamped around his wrist like a steel vice

nt rigid. Not from fea

reflex of a trained killer, designed to inflict pain and disarm. He could have easily b

hen,

venomous, dream-soaked whisper.

breath

Delivered by a woman who, according to his Syndicate intellig

physical blow. The Calhoun family hadn't sent him a decorative vase to pay off

hest. He was staring at a mystery, a walking contradiction. One moment a queen negotiatin

pull away. Instead, he placed hi

dominance radiate into my grip, sending a subconscious signal to my warring min

ost unset

oiled. My grip on his wrist loosened, though I didn't let go entirely. The over

rise and fall of my chest, trapped by the loos

dawn were bleeding through the heavy curt

heat. I felt... grounded. It was the deep, dreaml

my eyes locking onto

r. The real war w