Page 11 of Hunted to Be Mine
“That’s not going to work.” I kept my tone steady despite my jangling nerves.
“What isn’t?” Specter continued his circuit, still behind me where I couldn’t see his expression.
“Mentioning our kiss to throw me off balance. To make me seem compromised.”
His soft chuckle drifted over the back of my neck. “Is that what I’m doing?”
I turned, refusing to let him dictate the terms of our interaction any longer. He was nearer than I expected, forcing me to tilt my chin up to maintain eye contact.
“Yes. That’s exactly what you’re doing.” I crossed my arms, creating a physical barrier between us. “And it’s textbook avoidance. When patients sense threat from therapeutic progress, they often attempt to destabilize the professional relationship.”
“Patients.” A smirk played at his lips. “Is that what I am to you?”
“What you are is someone who surrendered to SENTINEL specifically requesting psychological intervention.” I didn’t break our locked stare despite the heat crawling up my neck. “So, either you want my help, or this is all an elaborate charade.”
He advanced another pace, forcing me to either retreat or hold my ground. I chose the latter.
“Did you report it?” His whisper barely carried. “Our little breach of professionalism? Did Dawson give you a stern talking-to about maintaining boundaries with the dangerous subject?”
Real curiosity lurked under the mockery.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I countered. “To know you’ve created consequences for me. That you have power over my career.”
His scrutiny intensified, genuine interest sparking. “You didn’t report it.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“But it could be.” His palm hovered near my face, not making contact but near enough that I could sense the warmth radiating from his skin. “It should be.”
The atmosphere crackled, volatile. Every instinct screamed to withdraw, to reestablish professional boundaries, but I recognized the trap. Each withdrawal would only embolden him. Confirm I could be manipulated through proximity and suggestion.
Instead, I advanced, deliberately entering his territory.
“If you don’t genuinely need my help, I can walk out that entrance right now.” I absolutely meant every word. “Stop wasting both our time with these charades.”
Surprise flickered across his features, authentic for once. For a heartbeat, I glimpsed something raw beneath the carefully constructed persona.
“You initiated that kiss.” His volume dropped.
“Yes. I did.”
“Why?”
“Because in that instance, you weren’t Specter. You were someone breaking through conditioning, someone desperate enough to reach for human connection.” I kept my delivery clinical despite our proximity. “It was unprofessional, and it won’t happen again.”
His pupils dilated a fraction at my words. He bent nearer, his exhalation warm against my face.
“Won’t it?” He tilted his head, studying me with intense concentration. His hand hovered near my throat, not making contact but near enough that I could sense the heat against my pulse point.
Then I noticed something: the subtle tremor in his palm, the too-controlled rhythm of his respiration. His eyes darted, but the action seemed deliberate rather than involuntary.
“Specter?”
He swayed, his other palm reaching for the surface. His lungs accelerated, shoulders tensing as he stumbled back half a pace.
“I need…” The words choked off as he pressed his hand against his temple.
I watched, analyzing every reaction. This appeared similar to yesterday’s episode.
