Page 18 of Faith Among Monsters

Before I can process what’s happening, he slams the butt of his palm into Quince’s chest with enough force to make the guard stumble back a step.

Quince sucks in a sharp breath, his face twisting in anger. “Filthy…”

Dax’s hand snaps out, drawing the pistol from Quince’s waistband in one smooth motion, and presses the barrel hard against his jaw.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you what happens when you fuck with my things,” Dax growls, his voice low and deadly. “You starting to remember now, boy?”

Quince’s bravado crumbles, his eyes flicking down as he nods quickly. “Yeah.”

Dax leans in closer, his grip on the pistol tightening. “Get your shit together,” he says, his voice ice-cold, “And don’t let me catch your eyes on my woman again, or I’ll rip them out and choke you with them.”

The words are calm. Almost casual. But the weight behind them makes my legs go numb.

Quince swallows hard, his face pale, and nods again.

Dax shoves the gun roughly back into Quince’s waistband, his jaw clenched tight.

Quince stumbles backward, his gaze glued to the ground, and doesn’t dare look up again as we step past him and through the door.

My legs feel like they might give out beneath me, but Dax’s hand finds my waist the moment we’re inside, steadying me.

It feelsrightthere. Still. Good. Safe.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Dax is here for a reason. He’s a killer. And yet, nothing about his touch makes me feel afraid.

We reach my room, and he steps in first, his body tense, his gaze sweeping over the small space like he’s expecting someone to be waiting in the shadows.

It’s not until he checks the corners, his shoulders relaxing slightly, that he turns back to me. He pulls me inside and closes the door firmly behind us.

The click of the lock echoes in the small space, and I can feel my pulse in my throat.

“Thank you, I’ll be okay,” I say, trying to steady my voice.

His eyes don’t leave mine. Hungry, intense, devouring.

I know that look. Ifeelthat hunger. Shit.

“You can go. I’m sure you have things to do,” I add quickly, the words rushing out before I can stop them.Rambling. I’m rambling.Me, the therapist, unnerved.

I square my shoulders, trying to pull myself together. Dax would approve of that, wouldn’t he?

The faint twitch at the corner of his lips tells me I’m right. He approves of something.

“I’m not leaving you alone in here,” he says, his voice low and firm. “Quince is handled. But he’s a minor nuisance compared to the others.”

“You can’t sit on me for a month,” I argue, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “The men will never open up to me with you standing at my side.”

He looks amused at first, but that fades quickly. His jaw tightens, and there’s something else there now, something darker. He’s fighting for control. I can see it in the way his hands flex at his sides.

“I’ll give you space to work, Faith,” he says, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “But understand me, you are not to be out of my line of sight.”

“Yes,” I say quickly. Too quickly.

His gaze sharpens, locking on me.

“About what happened,” I start, my voice faltering.

He wets his lips, and the simple motion makes my stomach flip. “You were frightened? Is that it?”

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