"May I?" he whispered.
The warmth of his breath brushed my lips—too close, too intimate—and heat shot straight through me. I gave a small, almost automatic nod.
The kiss was slow.
Heavy.
Lingering.
Nick didn't rush—just pressed closer, deeper, like he was testing how far he could go. I didn't even notice when I ended up falling back onto the bed. One moment I was sitting—
the next—
I was flat on my back.
He hovered over me.
Close.
Too close.
A shiver ran through me when his hand slid under my shirt and touched my bare stomach. Warm. Careful—but not hesitant.
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
Breathing hard.
His eyes—
dark.
Focused.
Hungry.
And it hit me.
Sharp.
Low.
Like something twisting tight in my gut and dropping lower.
I didn't even realize when my hand moved—fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him back down.
He let out a quiet, broken sound against my lips.
Not loud.
But I felt it.
He shifted, one knee pressing onto the bed between my legs, grounding himself there.
Pinning me.
His lips moved.
Down.
From my mouth to my jaw—
to my neck—
Slow.
Light.
Barely there—
and still enough to drag a sharp breath out of me.
I arched into it without thinking.
My hand slid under his shirt.
Warm skin.
Firm muscle.
Lower—
brushing the line of his belt.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
His hands moved—quick now—undoing his shirt, not looking away from me for a second.
And I just—
lay there.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Actually wanting it.
And that—
that scared the hell out of me.
"I'm coming in."
Knocking.
The door creaked open.
Too fast.
Too real.
I jerked upright.
Nick stepped away immediately, turning his back, shoulders tight.
"Did I interrupt something?" Robert asked, looking between me and Nick.
"What do you need?" I asked, voice rough—
—and my phone hit me straight in the forehead.
"Here. And don't leave it lying around again," he said. "Your annoying Silius has called like a hundred times."
"Yeah. Sorry," I muttered.
Right on cue, the phone rang again.
"Do you even know what phones are for?" Clyde's voice cut in the second I answered.
"Nice to hear you too," I exhaled.
"You have five minutes. My office. Now."
The line went dead.
"Sorry, Nick," I said, and this time I actually meant it. "I have to go."
"Yeah," he said quietly.
Then suddenly—
"Wait."
I turned.
"Yeah?"
"You and me. Saturday evening. Just the two of us. In the city."
He said it fast.
Like he'd lose the nerve if he slowed down.
"You in?"
"I—yeah. Of course," I said, stumbling over it.
He smiled.
Small.
Real.
I raised a hand and left with Robert.
"That was… weird," Robert said, eyeing me.
"Maybe don't walk into people's rooms without knocking," I snapped—
then stopped.
"…Sorry."
"Ohhh," he dragged it out, grinning. "I interrupted something."
"I was trying your advice," I muttered.
"And?"
"You walked in," I said flatly. "That's what."
He winced slightly.
Before, if I got worked up and didn't get any release, it passed.
Annoying.
But manageable.
Now—
it didn't go away.
It stuck.
Under my skin.
Tight.
I couldn't shake it.
By the time I reached Silius's office, I was already on edge—
and then I froze.
"Clyde, think this through," someone inside said. Goward, I think.
"This discussion is over," Clyde replied.
Calm.
Flat.
"I strongly suggest you reconsider. Your father has called multiple times. You remember how furious he was? Marcus Holivan won't let this go."
"I don't care," Clyde said. "About Holivan senior or my father's complaints. I'll do what I think is right."
A pause.
"You're not thinking at all," Goward snapped. "The boy already did what he was supposed to. He brought Storik in. He's useless now."
"That's not for you to decide," Clyde said, quieter—but sharper. "I decide whether Alan is useful or not."
A beat.
"I'll handle the consequences. Our plan isn't at risk. What do you want from me, Goward?"
"I want you to use your head," he shot back. "Because of you, Marcus is pressuring your father. Is it worth it? For some boy?"
"I told you—this is over."
Silence.
Then—
"Or is someone pressuring you?" Clyde added. "Is that why you're trying so hard?"
"…My father called," Goward admitted. "He asked me to influence you. If you stop protecting Holivan, things get easier. Please, Clyde. Think."
"Then tell your father you don't control my decisions," Clyde said. "You're dismissed."
The door flew open before I could even pretend to knock.
The guy stormed out—
stopped when he saw me—
gave me a look—
and left.
"…Did I interrupt?" I asked.
"We're done here," Clyde said. "What did you hear?"
"That you're having problems because of me."
"I don't have problems."
"But I heard—"
"Minor issues," he cut in. "Family business. Marcus Holivan is trying to push you out of the academy. Let him try."
"…I don't want to cause trouble," I said.
"I said I don't have problems," he repeated.
Colder.
Sharper.
"Did you not hear me?"
"…Fine. I understand, Mr. Silius," I said. "So why did you call me here?"
"Tomorrow, Storik is meeting someone from our circle."
"And what does that have to do with me? It's not Sunday. Not even Saturday evening. I can't go with him."
"You're not going with him. You're giving him this."
He handed me a thick envelope.
Heavy.
"What is it?"
"Money. Documents. He'll need them."
"…You called me for this?" irritation flared. "You couldn't just give it to him yourself?"
"If we're seen together too often, people start asking questions. I don't need that."
"…Anything else?"
"Yes. Sunday. You're coming with me."
"I already have plans. At least in the morning."
"Then reschedule them."
That did it.
"Why should I drop everything for another one of your errands?" I snapped. "You know what—screw this. I don't care if I lose your favor. Take your damn badge and find another lapdog."
"You're tense today, Alan."
Kristina.
Behind me.
Laughing.
Light.
Like nothing was happening.
"…Yeah," I muttered. "Not my best day."
I stepped back toward the door.
"I should go."
"Sunday morning, Holivan."
I didn't answer.
Just turned—
and left.
Everything was getting on my nerves.
Everything.
Even the smallest things.
I'd gotten used to Silius.
To the way he acted.
It never really bothered me before.
But now—
everything did.
…Maybe I'm losing it.
Or maybe—
I just need to learn how to deal with something I've never had to deal with before.