Page 51 of Playing with Fire

The need in his voice made my stomach tighten. Everything we'd built between us in the past week—the trust, the surrender, the connection that defied labels—all of it felt fragile in this strange new environment. I needed to anchor him, to remind him that whatever else changed, this was constant.

The bedroom had its own bathroom, which was possibly larger than the entire trailer I'd shared with Wattson. A shower big enough for a family of four dominated one wall, with multiple showerheads and what looked like steam functions. The bathtub could double as a small swimming pool.

"This is obscene," I said, running my fingers over the edge of the marble countertop.

Xavier leaned against the doorframe, watching me explore. There was something darker in his eyes now, something possessive and calculating that made my heart race. I recognized that look from our nights together, from when he'd first dripped wax onto my skin, from when he'd watched me come apart under his control.

"You like it, though."

It wasn't a question. He could read me too well, could see the way my eyes lingered on the luxury I'd never experienced before. Growing up with barely enough to get by, then the spartan existence of Army barracks, and finally the cramped trailer… Nothing in my life had prepared me for this level of opulence.

"It doesn't matter if I like it," I said, turning to face him. "It's a cage. A really nice cage, but still a cage."

Xavier's fingers curled possessively around my hip, drawing me back against him. "We're not staying here forever. Just long enough to figure out who's hunting us."

The press of his body against mine sent heat spiraling through me even in the midst of crisis. Two fires in one week, our lives upended, and still my body responded to him like a compass finding north. The wildness was still there in his eyes, but now there was something else too—a hunger that had nothing to do with vengeance.

"I know," I said, leaning into his touch. "And this place has resources we can use. Not just security but tech, access to information."

His mouth curved against my neck. "Always the pragmatist."

"One of us has to be."

A chime sounded, startling us both. Xavier tensed, hand automatically moving toward where his weapon would normally be.

"Chance, what was that?" I called, suspending privacy mode.

"The arrival notification system," the AI replied smoothly. "The remaining members of the Laskin family and their associates have passed through the outer security perimeter. Estimated arrival at the main entrance in four minutes."

Xavier's expression darkened. "Everyone's coming?"

"That is correct, Mr. Laskin. All invited family members accepted Mr. Etremont's offer of sanctuary."

I raised my eyebrows, unable to hide my surprise. "Even Xion?"

"Xion and Boone Calhoun were the last to confirm, approximately forty-seven minutes ago."

Xavier's jaw tightened. "This should be interesting. Xion hates Algerone almost as much as I do. We should go meet them," he said, already moving toward the door.

"Yeah, let's go," I agreed, following him. "Chance, directions to the main foyer?"

"Certainly, Mr. Astrada. Please follow the illuminated pathway."

The journey through The Sentinel's labyrinthine corridors was disorienting by design, I realized. Even with Chance's guidance through subtle lighting cues along the baseboards, I found myself struggling to commit the layout to memory. Another security feature, no doubt, intended to disorient intruders and keep guests dependent on their hosts.

We arrived at the foyer just as the front doors opened, admitting a stream of familiar faces, all wearing various expressions of wariness, exhaustion, and awe.

War entered first with his husband, Pax, and holding little Charlie's hand. Behind them trailed Lettie, slouching with teenage indifference that couldn't quite hide her fascination with their surroundings. Charlie clutched her stuffed rabbit and took in the place with wide eyes.

"This place is fucking ridiculous," War muttered, catching sight of us. "You okay, Xavier?"

Xavier shrugged, the gesture so deliberately casual it had to be forced. "Fine."

"At least nobody got hurt," Paxton said quietly, his hand moving to squeeze War's.

Shepherd came next, his clinical gaze sweeping the space. Eli, his leather collar visible beneath his shirt, stuck close to his side, one hand clutching Shepherd's sleeve. I didn't miss the way he flinched at the automated door closing behind them.

"Motion sensors embedded in the flooring," Shepherd noted, his voice carrying in the high-ceilinged space. "Thermal imaging in the light fixtures. I see Algerone has spared no expense on our new prison."

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