Greyson’s POV
The invitation to dance was a lie…or at least, a strategic distortion of the truth. I had absolutely no intention of swaying rhythmically in the middle of a crowded, sweat-soaked basement bar like some common college student. The second my hand touched Callie’s chin, the resonance between us spiked so sharply that the neon signs above the bar hummed a frantic, dying note.
I was losing.
I had spent the last hour convincing myself that I could be the stoic observer, the distant Warden who granted his ward a moment of reprieve. But the moment that human’s hand had settled on her back, the ice in my veins hadn’t just cracked. It had shattered into ten thousand lethal shards.
My composure was gone, entirely replaced by a cold, singular focus: reclaiming the woman who was curre
