As they pulled into her uncle’s driveway, the house was shrouded in darkness.
Michael killed the engine and was out of the car in an instant. She fumbled for her keys and was surprised when he opened her door.
“Thanks,” she murmured, taking his outstretched hand as she stepped onto the driveway.
“How’s your ankle?”
She tested it. “Actually, it’s not that bad. Thanks for the ride.”
“Let me walk you in,” he offered.
Her heart thudded in her chest. “That’s…really not necessary.”
His lips quirked. “You have to let me finish redeeming myself, Paislee.”
With a dramatic sigh, she dangled her keys in front of him. “Very well, Sir Knightly. Here.”
Michael unlocked the front door, and they stepped into the house. His gaze swept over the modest furnishings as she turned on the lights.
“How long have you been working at Allusion?” he asked, pausing in the living room.
“A couple of weeks.” She slid her bag off her shoulder and set it on a nearby chair. “I came here for school. Allusion helps pay the bills."
He stepped further into the room.
She busied herself with slipping off her sneakers, but the silence stretched long enough that she turned around.
He was inches away, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly changed the subject. “So, am I safe? No danger lurking in the shadows of my house?”
Michael reached for the strap on her skirt, and his fingers traced it slowly before he hooked it and tugged her forward.
“Why do you look so frightened?” he murmured, his brow furrowing.
“I’m not frightened,” she shot back, though her trembling hands betrayed her.
He arched a brow. “You’re shaking.”
Her cheeks burned. “Because I know you’re going to kiss me,” she admitted.
His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “Last night, you didn’t seem so afraid of me.”
Her resolve ebbed as his face inched closer. “That was impulsive,” she whispered. “Now I’m just…questioning what I’ve gotten myself into.”
He laughed softly, and the sound was rich and unguarded. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, ducizza,” he breathed.
Excerpt 2
She needed to stay calm. Not provoke him.
She nodded slowly and softened her expression.
For a moment, he didn’t speak. Frustration and something deeper crossed his face. Regret, maybe?
It was insane. All of it. Her chest ached with the effort to stay calm, to placate him. But something in his voice had changed. Something in his eyes burned. Every instinct she had told her she wasn'tsafe with Michael—despite the fact he'd saved her. She needed to leave. To run. Survive.
Silence ticked by until he sighed and turned away. He was opening the fridge—for what, she didn’t care.
She ran.
Panic tore through her lungs. She couldn't stay there, couldn't think about whether he'd chase her. She bolted for the door, slipping slightly on the polished floor, holding her breath as adrenaline surged through her.
But she didn’t make it far.
Michael moved faster, and his hand caught her wrist just as she reached for the handle. He spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, his eyes blazing with anger—and something else.
“How far did you think you’d get?” he growled, his voice low and biting.
Paislee squirmed against his grip, but it was like trying to move a steel beam. Her heart slammed against her ribs as his eyes bored into hers, dark and unreadable. “You’re crazy, Michael!”
“I’ve been patient, Paislee—”
“Let me go, you fu—”
“More patient than I’ve been with anyone. But you’re testing my reasonable nature,” he said, his tone dangerously soft.
She snapped. “Claiming you’re a vampire and wanting to drink my blood doesn’t sound reasonable! You sound insane!”
His jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, as if gathering his restraint. “I didn’t want it to be like this,” he murmured.
Before she could move, he hoisted her over his shoulder. Ignoring her cries of protest, he carried her up the wide, curved staircase with infuriating ease.
He kicked open the door at the end of the hallway and stepped into a massive bedroom. The room was just as sleek and cold as the rest of the house.
She kicked and pounded at him. But when none of it mattered, she twisted and dug her teeth into the solid muscle of his back.
He didn't so much as stumble or flinch. He dropped her onto the bed—not hard but not gently, either.
"Don't do that again," he warned, voice flat with quiet menace. His expression darkened. "I bite way harder than you."
She scrambled to her knees, her eyes darting between him and the door.
“This is insane,” she said, her voice shaking. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Michael’s expression looked pained as he ran a hand through his hair. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me," he said at last, his tone grim. "That’s why I need to show you.”
He inched closer.
“Michael, please,” she whispered. “Just let me go.”
He stopped, merely a breath away. “I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. Before she could react, he tilted her head gently, and his lips brushed against her neck. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
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