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But on the flip side, the Hunter will kill me if I get too close to discovering his identity.

There’s not much I can do about any of it tonight, so I may as well crawl into bed for a few hours so I can look at this with fresh eyes.

If only I thought that would help.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ORION

The dark corner of the room has become a safe haven for me.

This is the fourth time I’m seeing my sweet Ember, and the fourth time I’ve hidden away in the shadows like a coward.

If she were so inclined, she could Google me. There are thousands of articles all over the web about me and my legitimate businesses, so why bother hiding in the corner of the room I keep insisting we meet in?

I’m not sure.

Perhaps it’s because the anonymity it offers me feels safe right now. If I can’t see her in full light, locked in a room with me, maybe I can keep my hands to myself for a little while longer.

I scoff at the thought.

I’m barely holding on.

Even the dim light that illuminates my girl is enough to make my resolve weaken with each visit.

So why do I keep coming back?

Now there’s a question.

I should have stopped after the first time. It’s unlikely Lucas would have insisted Ember come back here, and then I could have gone back to watching her from afar without any issues.

But I can’t stay away.

I’m like an addict desperate for my next fix.

I check my watch for the third time since I walked in here. She’s late, and my stomach flips with unease.

Ever since I started these little meetings last week, I’ve become even more protective of her, watching her on the cameras whenever I’m not in meetings, and going so far as to follow her when I have the time.

It’s getting worse with every day that passes, and it’s only a matter of time before I’ll need to make her mine.

I tug my phone out of my pocket and pull up her tracker app. It takes a few seconds to load, and when it does, my body relaxes slightly. She’s here. She’s in the building.

Yeah, I’ve officially lost it.

I lean back into my armchair and force my body to relax. It’s rare that I allow my emotions to overwhelm me. I turned them off so many years ago, forced myself to be the cold, ruthless villain I needed to be to get to where I am today. But Ember tears them from the box I shoved them into all those years ago. She makes me feel too much.

The door swings open, and her soft footsteps cross to the chair by the stage, where she drops into it with a sigh.

In the dim light, I watch as she wipes tears from her cheeks, and the sight makes my chest ache, makes me desperate to cross the room and pull her into my arms.

“Ember?” My voice is rough, emotion that doesn’t belong forcing its way out.

I’ve watched hundreds, if not thousands, of people cry, but none of them have hit me like the sight of tears falling against my woman’s cheeks.

I swallow heavily as I grasp the arms of the chairs, forcing myself to remain seated. Every single muscle screams at me to cross the room and hold her, but I remain seated. “Ember?” I say again, but this time my voice cracks.

Fuck.