Page 83 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, little bunny."
His arms tighten around me, protective and possessive all at once. "Just remember who you answer to."
Those words should irritate me, make my stubborn nature flare up. But they send warmth rushing through my chest, filling me with satisfaction I don't want to examine too closely.
"I'll remember."
I promise against his throat, tasting salt and satisfaction on his skin.
"Though I should probably invest in concealer stock and update my relationship status to 'it's complicated.'"
His chuckle rumbles through his chest, and I can feel his smile against my hair.
"Little bunny, you have no idea how complicated things just got."
twenty-one
Vanessa
Istare out the window, watching raindrops race each other down the glass. My fingers drum against my thigh in rapid succession, creating a rhythm that matches my racing thoughts.
Two days stuck inside this house. Two days of rain. Two days of trying not to climb walls.
"Two days trapped inside is my personal hell," I mutter, bouncing on my toes.
Across the living room, Asher looks up from his laptop. His dark eyes track my movement with that sniper's precision that never seems to turn off.
"Your restlessness is making it difficult to focus." There's no real bite to his words though, not like there would have been a week ago.
I pivot on my heel, surveying the living room that's suddenly different in small but significant ways. My purple Star Wars mug sits next to his tactical black one on the coffee table. My hoodie is draped over his ergonomic chair. My laptop—covered in colorful stickers—looks like an alien invasion among his sleek, minimalist tech.
"Is R2-D2 dispensing the correct coffee ratio today?" I ask, nodding toward the sleek coffee maker in the kitchen.
"R2 performed admirably," Asher replies, his mouth quirking slightly at one corner—the Asher Cross equivalent of a belly laugh.
I blink rapidly, surprised he's playing along. That surprise transforms into a warm flutter in my chest.
"You know why I named it R2-D2, right?" I walk over to the kitchen, running my hand along the sleek, expensive machine. "It beeps in distinct tones like it's actually communicating, and it's the perfect sidekick bringing life-saving fuel."
"Logical association." Asher returns to his laptop, but I catch the smallest smile before he looks down.
My body decides pacing isn't enough. I need to move, to dosomethingwith this energy buzzing under my skin. I start doing small hops in place, my sock-covered feet barely making a sound on his hardwood floors.
Asher watches me for exactly thirty-seven seconds before closing his laptop with a decisive snap. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
"If you need something physical to do," he stands with his customary fluid grace, "I can teach you some basic self-defense. You clearly need to burn off energy."
My hopping stops immediately. "Self-defense? Like... hitting people?"
"Like creating space to escape if someone grabs you." He's already moving furniture with efficient movements, creating a clear area in the center of his living room.
"I'm more of a 'hack their bank account and ruin their credit score' type of defender," I point out, but I help him push the coffee table against the wall. He doesn't comment on how I immediately straighten the table to perfect right angles with the wall, matching his own tendency toward precision.
The rain intensifies outside, drumming against the windows and roof, creating a strangely comforting soundtrack that makes the room feel like our own private world. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, fog obscures what is usually a stunning view of the Bay Bridge.
Asher stands before me, his posture perfect as always. "I'll show you how to escape if someone grabs your wrist," he explains, reaching for my hand.
His fingers wrap around my wrist, firm but not painful. His skin is warm against mine, callused in places that speak of years handling weapons and scaling rough terrain.
