Page 58 of Claimed By the Band

"You're not what I expected," he says finally, setting a fresh mug of coffee in front of me.

"And what did you expect?" I ask, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic.

He shrugs those massive shoulders. "Someone more... I don't know. Arrogant maybe? Most people who can do what you do, they like to show off."

"Maybe I just don't have anything to prove," I say, taking a sip of coffee to hide my expression.

Knox studies me for a long moment, his woodsmoke scent thoughtful rather than aggressive. "Maybe," he agrees. "Or maybe you're just better at hiding it than most."

I meet his gaze steadily, refusing to look away first. "Does it matter?"

"To me? Not really," he says. "But to Asher..." He trails off, something complicated passing over his features.

My stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "Asher sees what he wants to see," I say carefully.

"Yeah," Knox agrees, his voice softening slightly. "He does that."

There's something knowing in his tone that makes me want to squirm. Like he can see right through my carefully constructed walls. But that's impossible. I've spent nine years perfecting this disguise.

I shift in my seat, the words coming out before I can stop them. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

Knox's eyebrows shoot up, genuine surprise crossing his rugged features. It's probably the most emotion I've seen from him since we met.

"It wasn't an attack," I add, shrugging. "Just an observation. For the record, I don't like you either."

To his credit, Knox actually smirks at that, some of the tension leaving his massive frame. "I'm an acquired taste," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "But for the record, it's nothing personal. I just don't want to see Asher get hurt."

"Why would you think I'm in a position to hurt him?" I ask, genuinely puzzled. I'm just some hacker they hired to help them with a problem, their temporary ally in this investigation. Nothing more.

Knox gives me a look that's equal parts exasperation and pity. "Come on," he says. "It's obvious the way he looks at you. Or at least, it is to everyone else."

Heat creeps up my neck and I suddenly find my coffee extremely fascinating. "You don't need to worry about that," I mutter, hating how my voice wavers slightly. "Even if that was true, I have no interest in romancing a client or becoming a part of your pack."

"Yeah," Knox says, his voice oddly melancholic. "That's what I'm afraid of."

My head snaps up, but before I can respond, Asher sweeps into the kitchen like a golden whirlwind. His honey-sweet scent fills the space, making my head spin despite the suppressants.

"Good morning!" he chirps, far too cheerful for this hour. His eyes light up as he spots us. "Mmh, coffee. Smells delicious."

Knox hands him a steaming cup he already had ready without missing a beat, and I watch as Asher accepts it with a grateful smile. The casual intimacy of the gesture makes something in my chest ache.

"You two are up early," Asher observes, hopping up onto one of the barstools next to me. His thigh brushes against mine and I have to fight the urge to pull away. "Planning world domination without me?"

"Just coffee and conversation," Knox says, but there's a weight to his words that makes me nervous.

I focus on my laptop screen, pretending to be absorbed in the financial records I've been analyzing. But I can feel Asher's warmth beside me, can sense him studying my profile.

"Find anything interesting?" he asks, leaning closer to peer at my screen. His scent blossoms around me, and I have to remind myself to breathe normally.

"Not yet," I manage, proud of how steady my voice sounds. "But I'm just getting started."

Knox watches our interaction with knowing eyes, and I want to crawl under the counter and disappear. He's right about one thing—this is dangerous territory. Not for the reasons he thinks, but dangerous nonetheless.

Because the truth is, it would be so easy to let myself get pulled into their orbit. To bask in Asher's warmth and the pack's casual acceptance. To pretend, just for a little while, that I could be part of something like this.

But I can't. I won't. Years of running, of hiding, of carefully maintaining this facade… I'm not about to throw it all away now. Not even for violet eyes and devastating smiles.

Not even for the first real connection I've felt since I ran away from home at the age of sixteen.

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