The corridor was too small.
That was the first thing I registered once the shock wore off.
Too small for the number of people trapped inside. Too small for the way my body felt suddenly hyper-aware of every breath, every shift of weight—especially his.
The lights flickered again, dimming until the red emergency glow barely held. Someone cursed under their breath. Another person knocked on the door, demanding answers that no one on the other side seemed ready to give.
I barely heard any of it.
Because he was still behind me.
Close enough that when he inhaled, I felt it against my neck.
"Relax your shoulders," he murmured.
"I don't take orders from strangers," I snapped quietly.
A pause.
Then, softer—but somehow more dangerous:
"I'm trying to keep you calm. Not obedient."
That shouldn't have sent a shiver down my spine.
It did.
The space shifted as someone shoved past us, forcing me back another inch. My back brushed his chest this time, unmistakable and solid. His body went rigid.
His hand slammed into the wall beside my head again.
Not touching me.
Never touching me.
But I could feel how badly he wanted to.
My pulse thundered. "You keep doing that," I said, my voice coming out thinner than I liked. "Putting your arm there. It's not subtle."
"I know," he said.
"Then stop."
"I can't."
I twisted slightly, just enough to look at him over my shoulder. His face was calm—too calm. Like the surface of deep water hiding something violent beneath.
"Why?" I asked.
His gaze dropped to my mouth before he could stop himself.
The air thickened.
"Because if I don't give myself something else to focus on," he said carefully, "I'll do something we'll both regret."
My stomach flipped.
I laughed, short and breathless. "That's a weird thing to say to someone you just met."
"You touched me first."
I opened my mouth to argue—
And froze.
Because he was right.
The moment replayed in my mind: my fingers brushing his wrist, the shock that followed, the heat that hadn't faded since.
"That wasn't—" I started.
"I know," he cut in immediately. "And that's the problem."
Another sound rippled through the corridor.
Low. Vibrational.
Not from the speakers. Not from any human throat.
A few people noticed this time. Someone whispered, "Did you hear that?"
His entire body tensed.
"Stay here," he said sharply.
"Where would I go?" I muttered.
But he was already moving, stepping in front of me without touching me, his broad back blocking my view of the corridor entrance like a shield.
Protective.
Possessive.
Mine reacted to that far too strongly.
The door rattled once. Twice.
Security voices echoed faintly from the other side, distorted. The sound came again—closer now.
His hands clenched into fists.
I leaned closer without thinking. "What is that?"
For a split second, he looked at me like he was considering lying.
Then: "Something that shouldn't be here."
"That's not comforting."
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
The lights flickered again, and this time when they steadied, his eyes—
I sucked in a breath.
They weren't brown.
They weren't even gold anymore.
They were burning.
"You're hurt," I said suddenly.
He blinked, clearly thrown off. "What?"
I nodded toward his hand. The skin around his knuckles looked scraped raw, as if he'd been gripping something far sharper than a wall.
He followed my gaze, then quickly curled his fingers inward. "It's nothing."
"It's bleeding."
"Drop it."
The command was instinctive. Automatic.
My body reacted before my mind did.
I stiffened. "Don't talk to me like that."
His eyes widened a fraction.
Then he exhaled slowly, deliberately. Like someone counting down from ten.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean—"
Another violent bang hit the door.
This time, people screamed.
He turned fully toward me, and for the first time, his restraint cracked just enough for me to see what lay underneath.
Raw intensity. Hunger. Fear.
Not of the thing outside.
Of himself.
"Listen to me," he said, voice low and urgent. "No matter what happens next, you do not leave my side. Do you understand?"
"Why?"
His jaw tightened.
"Because once they scent you," he said quietly, "I won't be the only one fighting myself."
My blood went cold.
"Scent me?" I repeated. "What does that even mean?"
He looked at me like he'd already said too much.
Then the door burst open.
And everything changed