Page 46 of His Angel

“I’m sorry,” he says. Calm. Cold. Like a soldier being reprimanded by a superior officer. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaia’s chest is heaving. Sweat glistens at his temple, his teeth clenched so tight I swear I hear the grind of enamel. “No. It won’t.Because you’re fuckingdone.”

He jerks back from Wyatt like the contact burns him, launching to his feet in one swift, explosive motion. The knife is still clutched in his hand, blood gleaming wet along the edge.

“You’re fired,” he spits. “Talon will have you off this island by nightfall. And if I ever see you near her again—” He steps closer, looming over Wyatt like a shadow come to life. His voice drops to a whisper, more terrifying than the shouting. “I willgutyou. You won’t even see it coming. Do you understand me?”

Wyatt lifts himself slowly, hands braced in the sand, blood sliding down his throat. “Noted,” he mutters.

Isaia just stares at him for a long second, chest still heaving, like he's debating whether to make good on that promise right now.

Then he turns on his heel, grabs my arm, and stomps toward the house. “Luna!” he calls. “Come, girl.”

Luna drops the stick and hurries to walk in front of us like a loyal soldier falling into formation. I glance over my shoulder at Wyatt, mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry,’ before Isaia drags me up the stairs.

“Was that really necessary?” I bite out.

“Absolutely.”

“We were just talking.”

“I’m not paying him to keep you company.” He releases my arm abruptly as we reach the veranda, but his gaze is still hard, like a hawk watching its prey. “I’m paying him to protect you.”

“And he can’t do both?”

He holds up the knife still carrying a smear of Wyatt’s blood. “Clearly, he can’t.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t go around wanting to kill people for simply talking to me.”

“I want to rip his throat out for letting his guard down around you. Don’t you get it? When I can’t be around to protect you, I need to know someone competent is. Someone who can do his goddamn job.”

“So you stalked us? Stalked me, to what? Test his competence? His reaction time?”

Without warning, he reaches and grabs my hair at the back of my neck, pulling my head back.

“I wanted to watchyou.” His breath is hot against my jaw, his grip tight in my hair, and my whole body goes taut, caught somewhere between fighting and melting. “I wanted to see you like I used to,” he murmurs, voice thick, rough, the blade of it dragging across my skin without cutting. “Back in Chicago, I watched you every night, sitting on your porch reading a book. Wandering around your house in those little shorts, making my dick hard.”

My lips part, but nothing comes out, my pulse slamming into my throat.

“I’d sit in the dark,” he goes on, voice quieter now, but ominous, like it’s dredged up from someplace unhinged. “Watching you sleep for hours, listening to the soft moans you make while dreaming.” He pulls my head back farther, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze is obsessed. Wild. Consuming. “I would smell you, taste the air you breathed, savor you.” He sniffs the crook of my neck as if to demonstrate, and my lips part as I melt into him. “But you never knew. Even while I was so damn close, you had no idea.”

My chest is rising fast, breath caught, heat surging. A dark, twisted part of me likes this menacing intimacy, the raw truth that spirals from his lips like a fiery confession.

“And today?” I manage, voice breathy as he trails the tip of his nose down my jaw. “You were watching me…again?”

His lips twitch. A dangerous smile. “From the trees. Silent. So fucking still I could hear your laugh over the breeze.”

My thighs clench.God help me.

“You threw your head back when you laughed at him,” Isaia snarls, dragging his thumb over my lower lip. “Hegot to see that. That smile. That laugh. That’s mine.”

He releases my hair, only to shove me back against the wall, not hard, but rough enough to make my breath catch. He cages me in, palms on either side of my head, his body so close I feel the heat rolling off him.

“I wanted to gut him for hearing you giggle,” he growls. “For looking at your bare legs in that little sundress.”

“You’re insane,” I whisper.

He leans in, eyes burning into mine like fire through frost. “For you? Yeah, baby girl. Absolutely.”

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