Page 43 of In Shadows We Dance

Fear flashes across her face. "You wouldn't?—"

"Post them?" I laugh softly. "No, these are just for me. For now." I trace the curve of her jaw. "But later? When you've stopped fighting this? Then we'll see."

My fingers find the hem of her shirt, sliding beneath to touch bare skin. She jerks at the contact, but I hold her steady.

"Such sensitive skin," I murmur against her ear. "You bruise beautifully." My fingers flick against the mark I’ve left on her throat. “This will be the first of many.”

I gesture to Monty, who disappears around the side of the house, only to return a few minutes later in his car. Nico opens the passenger door, but I wave him away with a look that tells him to back off. This part of the night is mine alone.

"Time to go home, Ballerina." I guide her into the backseat, and follow her inside. "Unless you'd rather stay, and explore what else you might like me to do?"

She presses herself against the door, but I drag her back, until she's on my lap. My arm wraps around her waist, until there’s no space between us.

"Your heart's still racing." I press my hand against her chest. "But we both know it's not just fear anymore. I can feel how you respond to my touch." I pinch her nipple through her bra.

The drive passes in tense silence. I keep one hand on her throat, while my fingers tease her nipples through her t-shirt. Each time she tries to pull away, I tighten my grip slightly. A reminder that she's mine now.

My attention is consumed by her—the way she shivers when my fingers trace patterns on her skin, how her breath catches when I press my lips to her throat. Each reaction feeds something insatiable in me, stored away for later.

When we reach her street, I let her go, but catch her armbefore she can open the door. Her skin is hot beneath my touch.

“Tonight is going to haunt you.” I pull her back for another kiss, slower, deeper, a promise she’ll feel long after. “Every time you close your eyes, you’ll remember the excitement of being hunted. Of being caught. Of being kissed.”

I bite her lip, pulling a gasp from her. “And tomorrow, you’ll wonder what else these lips could do.”

I release her, and she practically falls out of the car in her haste to escape. But we both know she's not really escaping anything.

"Sweet dreams, Ballerina." She hurries toward her building, and I admire how even now, she can't help but move with that dancer's grace. "Remember, I'm always watching."

CHAPTER 21

Sanctuary Lost

ILEANA

My bedroom windowcomes into view, a dark square in the brick wall of my first-floor apartment. I've never snuck out before, never needed to sneak back in. The thought of climbing through makes my stomach twist with fresh anxiety.

"Don't forget to check for monsters under your bed."

Wren’s voice carries easily. I glance back, and there he is, leaning against the side of the car, arms folded. There’s something taunting in his stance, like he knows I’ll be thinking about him long after he’s gone.

"Though I suppose the real monster knows exactly where you sleep now, doesn't it?"

My fingers fumble at the window frame. I’ve opened it from the inside countless times, but never like this. Tonight, it feels like I’m sneaking into someone else's life.

One leg first? Both hands on the sill?

I must look ridiculous, frozen here trying to break into my own room. His soft laugh confirms it, the sound burrowing into my bones like a promise … or a threat.

I stumble as I climb through, catching my knee on the frame. The desk breaks my fall, sending a muffled thud through the room. I freeze, holding my breath, waiting for footsteps from the other side of the door.

Nothing.

I straighten, brushing my palms against my legs to steady myself. I’m aware of every breath, every move I make. It's like the darkness is amplifying everything. He's still out theresomewhere. A thin curtain and pane of glass are all that separate us. What used to feel like a retreat feels different now. Thin walls, weak locks, and nothing that can stop him from coming in if he wants to.

He knows where I sleep.

The thought is loud in my head as I cross to my door and press my ear against the wood, listening for any signs that Dad might have heard me.

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