Eli shoved hard against Caelen's chest. His palms smacked against the solid wall of muscle beneath the dark coat—it was like trying to shove a pillar.
Caelen barely moved, only the faintest shift backward, but it was enough to carve out space between them.
Eli's breath came ragged, his yellow eyes burning up at him, sharp, unflinching.
Caelen, infuriatingly, remained steady. His face was unreadable, carved in calm, his posture loose as if Eli's outburst didn't rattle him in the slightest.
That maddening composure only stoked the fire in Eli's chest.
Caelen parted his lips, ready to speak—
"No. Don't even start."
The words ripped out of Eli before Caelen could utter a single syllable, his voice raw with frustration. His pulse hammered so violently in his ears it drowned out the silence of the office.
