Page 139 of Mystic's Sunrise

I moved to the dresser, gripping its edge to steady my breathing. Calm. Breathe. Keep your hands from shaking.

The door creaked open, and I flinched despite myself.

Drago stepped inside, his presence filling the space like a storm rolling in. His dark eyes scanned me instantly, a predator sniffing out the scent of blood.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with suspicion. “Why?”

I forced my expression into something soft, something sweet, turning toward him with wide eyes. “I’m not,” I said, my voice careful, gentle. “I was just waiting for you.”

He didn’t buy it.

Drago closed the distance between us, reaching out to cup my chin. His fingers were firm, tilting my face up so he could study me. I held still, knowing that any flicker of hesitation would only make things worse.

His thumb brushed over my cheek. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I let out a soft laugh, forced, practiced. “Only in my dreams,” I murmured, letting my hands trail up his arms, settling on his chest. “But you’re here now.”

His eyes flickered with something dangerous. He liked this, the sweet words, the soft touch. It was how I survived with him, how I kept him from digging too deep.

But tonight, I wasn’t sure it would be enough.

He tilted his head, his fingers slipping from my chin to my throat, just lightly enough to remind me that he could take control at any second. “You’d tell me if you had a secret, wouldn’t you?”

I swallowed, ignoring the way my pulse pounded under his touch. “Of course,” I whispered, leaning into him just enough to make it believable. “I have nothing to hide from you.”

His gaze darkened, his hand sliding lower, gripping my waist. “Good girl.”

I forced myself to smile, tilting my head, my fingers brushing through his hair, a distraction, a carefully placed touch meant to keep him pleased.

Drago exhaled, his lips ghosting over my jaw, and bile rose in my throat. I willed myself to endure it, to keep the act going, to…

Suddenly a heavy knock sounded at the door.

Drago tensed. His grip on me tightened for a fraction of a second before he released me, turning toward the door with a scowl. “What?”

He cracked the door open, and one of his men stood there, face pale, breath short.

Prez,” he said quickly, “The Devil’s House MC has been spotted in town.”

The air in the room shifted.

Drago’s entire demeanor changed, his focus, his attention and his expression sharpening with fury.

“Where?” he demanded, already grabbing his keys.

“They were tailed heading South. Could be scouting.”

Drago growled under his breath, his mind already on the war, the hunt, the kill.

“Get the brothers together,” he ordered. “Now.”

The man rushed off, and Drago turned to me one last time, his gaze scanning me as if searching for something.

“Be good,” he murmured, brushing a hand over my cheek before stepping out and slamming the door shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, I collapsed against the dresser, sucking in a shuddering breath.

Lucy was still in the clubhouse.

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