Page 88 of Isaia

“Jesus, Isaia.” He whistles low, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day, you being all pussy-whipped. You want my advice?”

“No.”

“Good. Because I’m giving it anyway.” He downs the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass on the railing. “You can mark your territory all you want, but if you don’t get out of your own head, someone else is going to walk off with her.”

My glare sharpens. “There’s a lot of hearts I’ll rip out before I let that happen.”

“Yeah, yeah. Big, bad Isaia, leaving a trail of bodies for love.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t end up one of them.”

“I’m out.” I grab my car keys from my pants pocket, tossing them in the air and catching them with a snap.

Caelian doesn’t even look up. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“None of your business.” I stop at the doorway and turn. “Oh, and you know that fundraiser Alexius is forcing on us?”

“You mean the slow, torturous death masquerading as a charity event?” He finally glances up, his expression already bored.

“That’s the one. Tell him I’m bringing a plus-one.”

That gets his attention. “You’re bringing the girl?”

I nod, my smirk widening.

He groans, loud and dramatic. “You know he’s not gonna like that.”

“I do,” I reply, spreading my arms wide with mock enthusiasm. “His disapproving glare can be the highlight of the night.”

“Christ, Isaia.” Caelian shakes his head but doesn’t bother stopping me. “You live to be a fucking pain in the ass.”

I wink, spinning my keys once more before heading out. “And don’t you forget it.”

Chapter 26

EVERLY

Ibarely get the towel wrapped around me before stepping into my bedroom—and freeze.

Isaia is sitting there, one ankle crossed over his knee, casually reading one of my books like it’s a lazy Sunday afternoon.

“You changed the locks.” His tone is calm, almost amused, like he expected nothing less.

“And yet, here you are.”

When he flips a page and my gaze snags on the title of the book in his hand, my soul leaves my fucking body.

Shit.Notthatbook—the one with a trigger warning list longer than a Black Friday checkout line, with scenes so filthy it should come with holy water and a confession booth.

My cheeks flush instantly. Of course, Isaia would pick the dirtiest book out of the five-thousand-three-hundred-and-twenty-one I own—a pile of which, admittedly, only a handfulare smutty and dark. Naturally, he’d go straight for the worst offender.

I pull a hand through my hair, pretending not to notice what he’s reading while silently wishing for the Earth’s core to explode.

“You really thought doing that would keep me out?” He leans back, every bit of him exuding calm control.

“Not really. But I had to try.”

His gaze sweeps up from the book to me, lingering just a second too long to be innocent, like he’s cataloging every inch of bare skin the towel doesn’t cover, then looks back down.

He flips another page, his expression unreadable, though there’s a wicked glint in his dark eyes. “Interesting choice of reading material.”

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