Damon stared at him, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall suddenly deafening against the roar of blood in his ears. The air in the library felt too thin, sucked dry by the sheer audacity of Leo's request.
Damon didn't clear the desk properly. He didn't care about the quarterly reports or the antique lamp. He swept his arm across the mahogany surface, sending papers flying in a chaotic flutter of white like startled birds. The lamp wobbled dangerously but stayed upright, casting wild, swinging shadows against the bookshelves.
He lifted Leo by the waist and slammed him onto the edge of the desk.
"You want to play games?" Damon growled, stepping between Leo's spread knees. "You want to provoke me?"
Leo gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white, but his eyes were burning with a dark, feverish delight. "I want you to make sure I don't forget."
"You won't," Damon promised.
