The door has barely closed before the words slip out, soft but insistent. "I want to go home, Grayson."
He stiffens, his hand still hovering near the small of my back.
"Cassidy, that's not safe." His voice is low, edged with something I can't name. It sends a shiver through me before I force my feet forward again, bag thumping at my side.
We start walking down the hall, drawing curious glances from a few vampires we pass.
"Then have some of your men watch my apartment if you're so concerned," I say, my voice gaining a little more volume with each step. "I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight."
He stops me, his hand closing around my wrist. We are near the archway leading into the main corridor when he pulls me gently but firmly back around to face him, his eyes searching mine in the dim light. A vampire couple pauses to watch us, their eyes gleaming with interest in the low light.
"And during the day?" Grayson asks softly, ignoring the onlookers. "What then?"
My heart skips at his nearness, the coolness of his skin bleeding through the thin fabric of my shirt. I swallow. We start walking again, the tap of our footsteps echoing on the stone, mixing with the muted conversations of other vampires going about their business.
"I have stuff to do tomorrow. I'll be out in public, they won't try anything with so many people around."
Grayson's jaw tightens, but he doesn't let me go, doesn't move back. Instead, he steps closer, his body a solid presence beside me as we continue down the wide, shadowed hall, past a group of vampires who fall silent as we approach.
He backs me slowly towards the wall until I can feel the cool stone through my shirt. His lips hover inches from mine, his gaze locking me in place until even the watching vampires blur from my mind.
"Fine," he says at last, the word dragged out of him reluctantly. "I'll have some of my men watch your apartment tonight."
His hand loosens on my wrist, slides down to twine with my fingers instead.
"But we'll have to figure something out, Cassidy. You're not safe, especially if they happen to know where you live."
The fight drains out of me, leaving me shaky, leaning into his touch without meaning to.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The worry in his eyes, the barely-leashed fear—it undoes me, cuts through the last of my defenses.
He sees it, of course he does. The tension bleeds out of his shoulders, his thumb stroking once over the back of my hand.
"Come on," he says quietly, tugging me gently further down the now-empty hall. "Let's get you home before you change your mind."
As we reach his Maserati, he reaches and opens the door for me. I slide in, the leather cool and smooth beneath my touch. He circles around and slips in his side. The drive is silent, my mind playing tug-of-war with what I want: a normal life, or the dark life Grayson could show me.
The city lights blur past the tinted windows, each passing street a reminder of the world I'm trying to hold onto, and the one that's pulling me in. The hum of the engine is a low thrum beneath the surface of my thoughts, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of my own heart.
I steal a glance at Grayson. He drives with a focused intensity, his gaze locked on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. He's a silhouette against the urban glow, a mystery I'm both drawn to and terrified of. The silence between us isn't empty; it's charged, heavy with unspoken questions and the undeniable pull that has entangled us. I can feel the question hanging in the air: What happens next?
Grayson unlocks the door to my apartment with the spare key I'd stashed above the frame, his movements precise, controlled. He pushes it open, scanning every shadow, every corner, before stepping inside. I follow, my heart pounding in time with his deliberate strides.
He checks each room, his presence filling the space so completely it makes my own home feel suddenly foreign. By the time he returns to the living room, his jaw is set, his expression unreadable.
"Two of my men are stationed outside," he says at last, turning to me. "They'll watch the place tonight. No one will get in without me knowing."
The words should soothe me, but instead the fight inside me sparks—hot, reckless. My hands tremble at my sides, but I force the words out anyway, slicing through the silence.
"Whatever this is—it's just sex, Grayson. Nothing more. You don't get to own me because of it."
For a heartbeat, the air itself seems to hold its breath. His eyes flash, hard and dangerous, and he steps closer until the coolness of him presses against every nerve in my body.
His voice is deliberate, every word striking clean and heavy. "You can lie to yourself all you want, Cassidy. But we both know this isn't just sex."
He dips his head, so close I can feel his breath skate across my lips, the memory of his mouth still burning on my skin. "I've tasted you. There's no undoing that."
The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, charged with everything I want to deny—and everything my body refuses to forget.
"I'd like to be alone, Grayson," I say sternly, forcing my voice not to waver.
For a fraction of a second, something cracks through his armor—sadness, faint but unmistakable. His jaw tightens as if he wants to argue, to demand more, but instead he only exhales slowly.
"Fine." He pauses, like the word costs him, then lifts his hand to brush my cheek. The gentleness aches even as I fight it.
The coolness of his skin lingers when he pulls back, his hazel eyes searching mine like he's trying to memorize something he can't hold onto.
"I'll be outside if you need me," he adds quietly, before turning toward the door.
The click of it shutting behind him leaves the apartment feeling impossibly still.