The way he said Adam’s name, dripping with venom, sent a jolt of anger through me. Squaring my shoulders, I met his gaze, refusing to back down. “Yes, Adam. He’s my friend. He helped us. He’s been a good friend.”
A muscle in Jeremiah’s jaw ticked, his eyes darkening with something raw and intense. “A friend?” His voice was a low, cold whisper, each word laden with barely controlled jealousy. “You think I’ll let you walk around with another man by your side?”
Before I could respond, he scooped me up, his strength a reminder of the power he possessed. The world spun as he laid me down on the edge of his bed, his presence looming over me, a mixture of anger and something far more vulnerable in his gaze. “Say his name again,” he challenged, his voice soft but dangerous, eyes smoldering with
