About four hours and two more rom-coms later, I heard the deadbolt click and Talon stepped through the door.
My breath caught as I took in the sight of him. He looked like he’d just walked out of a fight — his leather jacket scuffed, dirt and spatters of blood all over his white shirt, and his jaw set in that familiar, unreadable expression. But there was something else in his eyes as he scanned the room, his gaze landing on me and Trina. It looked like relief.
I stood up quickly, my heart pounding. “Talon,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer right away, just strode across the room, his boots heavy on the floor. When he reached me, he stopped, close enough that I could smell the sweat and leather and the faint metallic tang of blood. His eyes searc
