Chapter 15 · The Uneven Trade

"Sit. Down."

Kael didn't shout. He didn't have to. The command was a low vibrate in the air, and he didn't move his hand from the throat of the security guard he’d just dropped. He looked at me, his eyes cold, scanning my face for a flicker of fear.

I didn't sit. I leaned against the chrome edge of the medical console, crossing my arms. "I'm not a dog, Kael. And we're way past the point where you get to tell me where to put my ass."

He stepped closer. The scent of sterile ozone and expensive cologne hit me—a sharp, corporate smell that didn't belong in a blood-spattered lab. He stopped barely an inch away, his chest nearly brushing mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a strange contrast to the ice in his gaze.

"You're a tool, Vesper," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "A very expensive, very lethal tool that I happen to own. Don't confuse a temporary leash for a partnership."

I laughed, a sharp, jagged sound. I reached out, my fingers grazing the cuff of his tailored sleeve, then slid my hand up to the pulse point at his wrist.