His hand on my throat wasn’t tight, but it might as well have been a collar. A reminder. A warning.
“By now, you should know,” he said, voice low enough to make the walls shake. “I always come back.”
My laugh slipped out thin, nervous. “You’re… intense, you know that?”
He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He just stared down at me, palm flat against my throat, like he was listening to my heartbeat through his skin. Like it was the only sound in the world he cared about.
My hands twitched at my sides. I didn’t know if I wanted to shove him back or pull him closer. And his silence was slowly itching at my skin. Crawling over me like ants on carcass.
“Say something,” I whispered, almost begging.
He tilted his head, studying me, then leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of my e
