Lana POV
I flinched before the word even existed. He felt the tremor run through me. Of course he did. He always notices what I’m trying to hide.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m angry.”
“You’re both.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“You’re late to that conclusion.”
“Artemis,” I warned, because nothing else I could say would be both true and survivable.
He leaned in until his forehead nearly touched mine—so close that if either of us lost an ounce of resolve we’d meet in the middle and never get out of this room unruined. “Tell me you don’t want me.”
My mouth worked around the syllables of a sentence I couldn’t assemble. The dark held us; the cabinet pressed a seam into my spine that would probably mark my skin for an hour. The press conference still flickered behind my eyes—white light, wh
