Chapter 9 · Three Hundred and Forty-One

I shoved my palm under his jaw and jammed his face out of my neck.

Not a choke. A locked elbow. The way you push back an eighty-pound dog that's already decided to bite.

His skin burned against mine. Scorching hot. Under my palm, his carotid hammered like something trying to smash out of a jar.

"Hands off," I said. "Right now."

He didn't move them.

His blunt fingers stayed clamped into the crests of my hips. His breath hit my collarbone in ragged, shaking gasps, dragging fire across my collar. On the tile behind me, the forceps he'd knocked off the tray were still clattering.

"Nora." My name broke right down the center. Like he had to dredge it up from the bottom of his chest. "One breath. That's all. Give me one clean breath of you, and I swear to God I'll walk back into that cage myself."

"Let go of me, Julian."

His fingers twitched open.

He stumbled back until his spine slammed into the bay wall. That was when I saw the tremor. It wasn't the cold. This quarantine bay sat at forty degrees, and a pure Sterling Alpha didn't shiver at forty.