Page 59 of Unmarked

I lock eyes with Kai.

His smirk dies. Just a little.

“No one touches me,” I rasp. “Not unless I say so.”

There’s a pause, then Lucian nods, sharp and approving.

“Good.Smart.”

Kai lifts both hands in surrender, grin rebounding instantly.

“Hotandin charge? Bambi, you really do have it all.”

Theo glances at me, eyes soft but pained. “You sure you want to do this alone?”

“I don’t want to.” I whisper. “Ineedto.”

He hesitates, then nods.

Lucian is already backing out like this is a court deposition he’s late for. “There’s a control panel by the bed. Buzz if you need -”

“Lock the door,” I interrupt, eyes snapping to him.

Lucian tilts his head, gaze unreadable. “Are you sure?”

“Justdo it.”

His jaw ticks once, then he turns and leaves without another word.

Ash says nothing. Just watches me like he sees through every layer I’ve ever worn. Theo lingers at the door. His eyes meet mine, and I see it - theache, theinstinct.

The way it kills him to walk away.

Meanwhile, Kai gives me one last look - half teasing, half something else.

“Shout if you change your mind, Bambi. I'll bring snacks.”

The door hisses shut.

The lock clicks loud.

And I’m left alone in a five-star panic suite, slicked-up, stripped raw, and moments away from either enlightenment or spontaneous combustion.

I barely make it halfway across the bed before I collapse like a Victorian heroine mid-faint, except way sweatier and four-hundred percent hornier. I’m panting like I’ve just outrun a pack of wolves - andnotthe sexy kind.

My dress is clinging to me, soaked with a shame cocktail of sweat, slick, and the pure, undiluted panic of a girl who is about five minutes from humping the memory foam mattress into retirement.

I reach for the zipper, and it laughs in my face. Of course it sticks - why wouldn’t it?

I yank so hard I hear fabric tear, but at this point, modesty is a distant memory, and that dress had it coming.

It hits the floor like a crime scene, and I drop to my knees on the mattress in my underwear, shaking, overheating, and very much Not Okay.

I faceplant into the sheets and scream. Muffled. Feral.

Like a dramatic possum who just learned she can’t mate with air.

I reach between my thighs like I’m searching for the Holy Grail. Spoiler alert: I find it.

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