Page 122 of Hunt Me
The certainty in his voice almost makes me believe it.
Almost.
31
ALEXI
Seven hours.
That’s how long we worked side by side, building our digital weapon. Seeing Iris at work is one of my favorite things; she’s methodical, brilliant, unstoppable.
Now I need her differently.
The compound falls quiet as evening settles. Nikolai is coordinating external surveillance with Erik. Dmitri’s reinforcing perimeter defenses. The others have scattered to their designated tasks.
I find Iris in my quarters, standing by the window with arms wrapped around herself. Reviewing contingencies in that relentless mind of hers.
Three strides close the distance between us.
I pull her against my chest, spin her to face me. Her back hits the wall with enough force to drive the breath from her lungs.
“You volunteered to be bait.” Not a question. A statement of fact that’s been eating at me since the federal building. “Walking into that conference room. Exposing yourself to Sentinel operatives and federal agents who want you dead or disappeared.”
Her chin lifts. “Someone has to.”
But there’s no defiance in her voice. Just exhausted resignation.
Wrong answer.
My hand slides into her hair, fingers threading through platinum strands before tightening. Gentle pressure. Absolute authority. “You’re not bait. You’remine. And I protect what’s mine.”
Her breath hitches. Those ice-blue eyes widen, pupils dilating.
I hold her there, trapped between my body and the wall. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The word comes out barely above a whisper.
I kiss her before she can say anything else. Hard. Demanding. Claiming every inch of her mouth like I can somehow brand ownership into her DNA.
She opens for me immediately, surrendering with a soft sound that ignites something feral in my chest.
This isn’t gentle. This isn’t sweet.
This is possession.
My free hand grips her hip, dragging her flush against me. She’s mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to mark as absolutely fucking untouchable to anyone who thinks they can use her as leverage or bait or a goddamn bargaining chip.
I pour every ounce of that conviction into the kiss—violent and tender simultaneously. A physical manifestation of the obsession that’s consumed me since the moment I realized the Phantom was a flesh-and-blood woman who could match me step for step.
I break the kiss, breathing hard against her lips. “Strip.”
The command hangs between us for a heartbeat before she complies. Her fingers tremble slightly as she works the buttons of her shirt, shrugs it off her shoulders. The fabric pools at her feet.
Bra next. Then jeans. Underwear.
I drink in every inch of exposed skin like a man dying of thirst.
“On the bed.”
