The morning sunlight was cruel. It had no mercy, casting sharp angles across the room and illuminating everything I had tried to ignore last night. My pulse still raced from the kiss, from the danger that had stalked us in the dark. I felt exposed, raw, like someone had pried open the door to my heart and refused to close it.
Nicholas didn't help. He was there when I woke, leaning against the doorway with that unreadable gaze, the tension in his posture unyielding.
"You shouldn't be here," he said quietly, but his eyes held a storm I couldn't decipher.
I sat up, blanket tangled around me, daring him to explain. "Neither should you," I said, voice steadier than I felt. "Last night… that—" I stopped. There were no words to describe it.
He stepped closer, the space between us charged with that same dangerous electricity. "I can't protect you if you stay in the dark."
"I don't need protection," I snapped, more to hide the tremor in my hands than to argue.
Nicholas's jaw tightened. He reached for me, not roughly, but with a force that refused denial. His fingers brushed my cheek, trailing down to cup my hand. Heat shot through me, reckless and irresistible.
"I can't keep you out of it," he murmured, voice low and rough. "And right now, staying away might be the most dangerous thing of all."
The words hit me like ice and fire at once. Danger. Desire. Everything blurred. I had wanted to deny him, wanted to reclaim reason, but it was gone swept away by the undeniable pull between us.
Before I could respond, a sound from the street outside froze us both the soft hiss of tires, a sudden slam of a car door. Nicholas's head snapped toward the window.
"We're being watched," he said, voice tight. "They know you're here."
My stomach lurched. I wanted to pull back, to run, to scream that I wasn't part of this world. But I didn't. My body refused.
Nicholas stepped in front of me again, shielded me, his hand gripping mine with a mix of command and tenderness. "Stay close," he ordered. "No matter what."
And then the moments collided urgency, fear, and desire tangled together. He leaned down, lips brushing mine for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative. It was survival, need, and confession all at once.
When he pulled away, we were both gasping, the weight of the danger pressing on us like an invisible hand.
"Promise me you'll be careful," he whispered, forehead against mine. "Promise me you won't get involved more than you have to."
I nodded, though I knew the promise was hollow. My heart had already chosen and Nicholas had claimed a part of me I couldn't deny.
Outside, the city moved in silence, oblivious to the fire we were caught in. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty: nothing would ever be safe again.