Karson didn’t think it was cute. He’d muttered things about ‘logistics’, until I told him I wanted a vacation with him. Then he’d stopped muttering, but he didn’t look happy.
He’d packed a bag, though.
One bag.
We didn’t even know how long we’d be gone for.
I already had two suitcases and was working on a third. Karson was watching me.
His gaze was heavy, as it had been since we left Klutch, since we exchanged ‘I love yous.’ There was something brewing in that mind of his. There was a lot of things brewing in my head too, but I was doing my best to distract myself by choosing between strappy sandals.
It came to a head as I zipped up my last bag.
“When I grabbed your arm in Klutch, it triggered something in you,” Karson said.
I jerked my chin up. “When you manhandled me, you mean?”
Instead of saying anything, Karson advanced. He stalked forward. It was not with a familiar expression of hunger. No. This was the Karson who worked for Jay. The deadly one. The one who could and had killed men with his bare hands. Who had tortured people.
My body scuttled back out of instinct, something subconsciously telling me to retreat. To run. I didn’t stop until my back hit the wall. Karson didn’t stop until his body was pressed against mine, caging me in. His hands went to the wall on either side of my head.
My heart roared in my ears.
His eyes were pits. His energy menacing.
He was doing this on purpose. To test me. To find out what that was at Klutch. Because he saw me. And he saw that there was something behind my reaction to him grabbing my arm in that way.
“Are you afraid of me?” he whispered, his breath tickling my face.
I jutted my chin up. “No,” I replied truthfully. “I know you won’t hurt me. At least not in ways I don’t want you to. I’m well versed in the difference between dangerous men who would do anything but truly hurt a woman, and emotionally stunted man-children who will only hurt women.”
The comment was meant to make me sound worldly, experienced, unafraid. It was meant to let Karson know I was not some pampered princess who was unaware of the realities of this world and the assholes who called it home. But it did not have its intended effect.
Not even a little.
Karson pushed away from the wall, his hand just barely resting on my chest with the lightest of touches. The air felt charged, Karson’s hand lingering for only a moment more before he stepped back entirely, eyes glued to mine.
“A man has laid his hands on you.”
Again, one of his non-questions. Every survival instinct I had told me it was safest to stay quiet in that moment.
But I was not a woman who chose the safest route.
“Yes. But he only did it once.” I did not break eye contact.
The air seemed to shimmer around Karson as his eyes swirled with a fury that I had never seen. My blood chilled at the look. This was the man I knew Karson was. The cold-blooded killer. I’d known that in theory, but I’d never seen him as that. He’d shielded me from it.
Until now.
Until I told him that a man had hit me, and he couldn’t hold it in anymore because it bothered him that much. He let out the monster inside of him.
It was kind of romantic when you thought about it.
“Name,” he barked.
I jumped ever so slightly before regaining my composure. “Is shouting ‘name’ at me meant to scare me into giving the identity of the man in question?” I asked in a sugary sweet tone.
Karson didn’t answer. Just continued pinning me with his smoldering, murderous stare.