Page 46 of Claiming Pretty

To the raven perched across his chest, wings outstretched across his collarbones as though ready to take flight. Its mechanical heart exposed, gears and cogs spilling out as if being torn apart.

To the broken hourglass with bloodred sand pouring out down his ribs, twisted branches and roots snaking through the cracks as if trying to hold it together.

And the cracked human skull across his stomach, nestled among thorny vines and black roses, with a flickering light glowing from within its hollowed eye socket.

Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could stop it.

“Can you put a shirt on or something?” I blurted, stomping toward the living room lamp to switch it on, doing everything I could to avoid staring.

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” he replied, his tone a slow drawl. “Are you sayingyou’renot?”

“No,” I muttered, fumbling with the lamp. The soft amber light filled the room, but I instantly regretted turning it on. It illuminated too much—his piercing gaze, the smirk playing on his lips, the tension humming between us.

I quickly turned away, moving to switch on another light as if I were busying myself, but my heart hammered too loudly in my chest to ignore.

“Are you avoiding me?” Ty asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Of course not,” I said, too defensive, too fast. “Iam a student, you know? I actually have tostudy.”

“I’ve been studying too,” Ty replied, his voice low and smooth.

There was something in his tone that made me pause, the hair on the back of my neck rising.

When I turned, he was suddenly closer—too close.

I hadn’t heard him move.

My breath hitched as I realized how near he was, the heat of his body brushing against mine. My chest grazed his, and I was painfully aware of how sensitive my skin felt, how my nipples tightened at the contact. Mortified, I fought the urge to step back—or worse, lean in.

Ty’s eyes dragged over me, slow and deliberate, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

I tried to hide the shudder that rippled through me, but his smirk told me I’d failed.

“I’m going to make dinner,” I said, forcing myself to break the spell, shouldering past him before I did something I’d regret. “If you want to help.”

“I’m an excellent cook,” Ty said, his voice darkening as he added, “as you already know.”

I remembered holding back moans of pleasure as I ate yet another perfectly cooked meal under his watchful eye.

I remembered him feeding me when I was tied up and blindfolded before he fucked my mouth with his fingers.

I remembered that disastrous dinner when I’d tried to stab him and he’d done God knows what to my body when I was under.

I shoved the chaotic swirl of thoughts away, forcing myself into motion. Pots and pans clanged as I grabbed them blindly from the cabinets and tossed them onto the stove with more force than necessary.

“Did you know it was Ciaran who killed your father?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, raw and jagged, my head still spinning from his confession.

Ty appeared beside me, silent as a shadow. His hand brushed my wrist, steadying my fumbling attempts to light the gas stove.

The brief contact sent a jolt through me, and I stepped back to the kitchen island, pressing my palms into the cool surface to ground myself.

“He finally told you, huh?” Ty said, his tone infuriatingly calm as he twisted the knob and ignited the burner in one fluid motion. “He finished what you couldn’t.”

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, trying to steady my racing heart.

In the darkness behind my lids, I could hear him moving—gathering ingredients from the fridge, the soft scrape of a cutting board being pulled from a cabinet, the metallic clink of a knife. Every sound was deliberate, controlled.

Peeking out through narrowed eyes, I watched him moving with feline grace, every motion fluid, like a predator biding its time. The play of muscles under his skin of his back, scarred and tattooed, was mesmerizing.

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