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Before my question falls into the air, Rurik barges into the room, one of Kaz’s men right behind him, not trying tostop him, just sort of escorting him. Like he’s there for backup, but he’s not getting in Rurik’s way.

His face is pulled tight. Daggers shoot from his eyes as they land on Kaz. His jaw flexes as he gets closer.

When he passes Kaz, he grunts. Actually grunts like a real Neanderthal before pushing past him and coming to my seat.

“Rurik—”

He hauls me out of my chair and throws me over his shoulder. Without a word to anyone, he carries me out of the room, down the hall, and out of the brownstone.

“Can I move yet?” I ask, minutes after Rurik dumps me into the front seat of his SUV and tells me to not to move an inch.

If his jaw didn’t look ready to break off from the tension, I might have pushed my luck. But as I’d managed to have some fun this afternoon before he went all caveman, I’m willing to placate his ego.

“No.” He grips the steering wheel.

“I just wanted to text Megan and let her know that you didn’t whisk me off to kill me. She might wonder, you know, considering you just barged into Kaz’s house to kidnap me.” I pause foremphasis. “Again.”

His knuckles whiten.

“I was safe.”

“You weren’t where you were supposed to be.”

“But I was safe.” I point out again, risking everything by turning so I can glare at his profile.

He hasn’t looked at me since dumping me in the car. Maybe he’s afraid if he does, he’ll really lose his temper. Maybe this is him holding it together.

“You were safe at home.”

“Yes, but I was bored out of my mind there. Megan practically had an army with her. And Kaz has his own men at the house. Although, they let you through looking all murder, so maybe they aren’t that great.”

He draws in a deep breath that I think is him trying to calm himself.

“Alexander’s men know me. It’s not that you weren’t safe.”

“It’s that I didn’t listen again?” I’m seeing the pattern.

“You have my number; you should have called me.”

“You keep telling me no when I ask to leave. What choice did I really have?” It’s a fair point, even if he won’t give it to me.

In the past few days, I’ve watched television until my eyes burned. I’ve flipped through every book he owns, and if I had any interest in classical literature, it might have been entertaining.

“You went to Kaz’s house.”

Rolling my eyes, I sink back into the seat. He’s not goingto be reasonable about any of this. I might as well be talking to a wall; I’d get a better response.

Unless.

“Wait. Are you jealous?” I spin to face him again so fast my head spins.

“No.” But he readjusts his position, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin.

“You are. Of Kaz?”

“I’m not jealous.”

I want to laugh, but this is the most real thing I’ve seen from him in days. Every other encounter has been a grunt of disapproval or a nod of approval in between the long stretches of devouring each other’s bodies. The man at least knows how to talk with his tongue.