Page 52 of Stroke of Shadows

“If you’re worried about your safety—”

“You need to take me home.” Harper shot to her feet. “My uncle will be concerned that I haven’t returned.”

Sythe straightened to his full height. “Harper—”

“You’ve worked with Wyatt long enough, so I’m sure you’re aware of the type of business you’re hired to protect, and the type of people you work beside.”

She crossed her arms, her eyes darting to the side until it landed on the altar in the corner. It had been one of the first things he’d created in the flat; the five candles purposely melted to look regularly used. Everything he did was meticulously planned, and yet her very presence screwed every sane thought into fragments.

“You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be born into the Beauchamps. To be so heavily scrutinised not only by my family, but also by the church. If either found out…” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as her voice softened to a whisper. “It’ll put both of us in danger.”

Sythe ignored the burning in his chest. “Why? Because you didn’t follow the rules?” Her eyes when they met his glistened with frustration. “Or because you’re not human?”

HARPER

Because you’re not human.

What could he possibly know? She was pure. One hundred percent human. It was the reason she was a vessel for the Church of the Light. Something her uncle took pride in.

“Harper, wait.”

A hand slammed over her shoulder, closing the door she’d just started opening. He’d moved fast enough to startle her, crossing the space silently.

“Take me home.” It was a demand, one that sounded stronger than she felt, even if she spoke it to wood and not to the man that disintegrated every single one of her shields.

“Turn around.”

No.

Her breathing sharpened, Sythe’s body heat enveloping her like a blanket as he pressed closer.

“I’m sick,” she whispered, the explanation pouring out of her. “They don’t know why, but sometimes I collapse.” There was nothing to fight the creeping paralysis. No medication or treatment that had helped despite over two decades of trying. She knew the episodes would eventually pass, even if they were becoming more frequent.

“Turn around, Harper.” No longer a command, but instead, a velvety request.

“They don’t think my condition’s anything to worry about,” she continued, her voice quivering when she felt a gentle nudge of her shoulder. “That it’s just something I was born with.”

“Please, darling. Turn around.”

Steeling her spine, she turned. Sythe didn’t step back, forcing her to look up. There was a weight to his gaze, his face void of the almost boyish, lazy smile he usually wore.

He’d seen her vulnerable, but she’d never let him see her as weak.

“Take me home, Mr Black.”

Tension twisted between them, the air heavy enough to suffocate. His attention brushed against her skin to leave an uncomfortable heat everywhere in its wake.

“Sythe,” she whispered his first name this time, and his body turned from simply stiff to rigid. “Take me home.”

The heat intensified, his caramel eyes darkening into pools of black. Harper was suddenly aware of every breath. Of every gentle beat of her heart that seemed to match his pulse.

Why did her body react so viscerally to him, and not to anyone else?

Sythe stared, his lips slowly curving into a delicious smile that highlighted his dimple. It frustrated her that he was so effortlessly attractive, even with his messy hair and stony gaze. She shouldn’t even find him attractive at all, not once she’d realised he worked for her uncle. He was a hired thug, not much better than a violent animal. Except an animal had the excuse of being an animal. And yet, despite it all, she couldn’t stop the electricity from surging through her blood. He was everything she despised, and yet she wanted him.

A piece of hair fell across her forehead, and Harper held still as Sythe reached forward to brush it behind her ear. His touch lingered, his warmth seeping beneath her skin, before his eyes dropped to her lips.

The tension between them broke into a million sparkles, the need that had slowly pulsed between her thighs heightening when his face transformed into pure hunger.