Chapter 34 · Night

"Lock the door, Volkov."

I don't move at first. Levi's standing behind his desk with his tie already off, sleeves shoved up, and there's sweat at his throat that has no business being there. It's forty degrees outside. He's not been running.

"You heard me," he says.

I lock it. "You look like hell."

"Thanks for the report."

He grips the edge of the desk like it's the only thing holding him up, and that's when it hits me — the smell. Not the cold copper thing he wears every day like armor. Something under it. Warm. Sweet enough to make my back teeth ache.

"Your patch," I say. "Where is it."

"None of your business."

"It's exactly my business. I signed a contract to keep you breathing, not to watch you go into a blackout heat in your own office."

He laughs, short and ugly. "You signed a contract to do what I tell you. That's the whole deal, remember? I own the paper. You don't get to have opinions about my glands."

I cross the room anyway. He doesn't step back, which is its own kind of answer.