Chapter 19 · Broken Vows

"Don't move. Not a fucking inch."

Cain's voice vibrated against my ear, a low snarl that made my skin prickle. He had me pinned. Hard. His forearm pressed into my collarbone, crushing me against the mahogany desk. He smelled like ozone and expensive cologne—sharp, suffocating, and way too close.

I gasped, my chest heaving against his rigid torso. "He was trying to kill me, Cain! You saw it. Why am I the one being treated like the criminal?"

"The knife isn't the problem," he muttered.

He shifted. His grip slid from my shoulder to my jaw, forcing my face up. His eyes weren't that cold gold anymore. They were swirling with a bruised, stormy purple.

"The problem," he whispered, "is that you're shaking. And it's not because you're afraid."

I tried to jerk away. His fingers didn't budge. Iron. Pure iron. "I *am* terrified! Look at me!"

"Liar."

He leaned in. His lips barely grazed my skin. "Your blood is humming. I can feel it through the floorboards. You're feeding on this, aren't you? The chaos. The danger. It's waking something up inside you."

A spark of heat crawled up my spine. Forbidden. Wrong.