"You promised me you'd let me run once," Chris said at last, lifting one finger as though making a point in a meeting. His other hand stayed curled around the coffee cup, the porcelain warm against his palm. His black eyes stayed on Dax, steady even though his cheeks were heating.
Dax met his gaze without hesitation. Sunlight from the tall windows caught on the gold thread of his shawl and the clean lines of his face. He knew exactly how he looked and made no effort to hide it. His smile widened, a charming smile if not for the cruel glint in his eyes. "If you ask nicely," he said, voice low and smooth, "I might even open the door myself."
Chris blinked, thrown. "Really?" he asked, cautious, a flicker of hope slipping into his tone before he could stop it. "Are you serious?"
"No," Dax said. The answer was simple, but the smile stayed. In his eyes there was no doubt, only quiet certainty. He wasn't going to let Chris go, not now, not ever.
