Page 25 of Knuckles & Knives

Or maybe they don’t even know the truth and only think they do.

Even as I put distance between us, I can still taste Kieran on my lips and feel the phantom pressure of his hands in my hair. Every rational thought screams that I’ve just made everything infinitely more complicated, but part of me—a traitorous, dangerous part—wants to turn around and go back.

For just a moment in that concrete tomb, I hadn’t felt like Vincent Blackwood’s daughter or a weapon shaped by grief and rage.

I felt like just Raven.

CHAPTER 9

My apartment feels smaller tonight. Three days have passed since the parking garage with Kieran, and I can still taste him on my lips when I let my guard down. Which is exactly why I can’t let my guard down.

I can’t kiss any of them again. I can’t risk losing myself in all of this.

I have to be cool and calm and in control at all times.

The knock on my door comes at midnight, sharp and deliberate. Two quick raps, pause, three more. It’s a pattern I recognize, one that makes my pulse spike and my defenses slam into place.

Dom.

I consider ignoring it, pretending I’m asleep, but we both know better. Dom wouldn’t show up at my apartment unless it’s important, and he certainly doesn’t knock with that particular rhythm unless he’s operating in an official capacity.

I open the door to find him filling the frame, all six-foot-three of controlled menace wrapped in dark jeans and a black t-shirt that stretches across his chest in ways that should be illegal. His brown eyes are darker than usual, almost black in the dimhallway light, and the tension in his shoulders sets off every alarm bell in my head.

“We need to talk,” he says, and his voice carries that edge it gets when he’s trying very hard not to lose his temper.

“About?”

“About the fact that you kissed Kieran Frost in a parking garage three nights ago.” His jaw ticks once. “And about the fact that Marcus has been watching you for five years without mentioning it to the rest of us. Hell, he was watching you before then too, but…”

Shit. How the hell did he find out? A camera? But why wait three days? Why check the camera film for three nights ago?

I step back and let him enter my apartment. Having this conversation in the hallway isn’t an option.

He closes the door behind him with deliberate control, the soft click somehow more ominous than if he’d slammed it.

“How did you?—”

“Find out? Marcus told me himself. Seems he thought I should know that the woman I’ve been protecting is playing games with enemies and allies alike.” Dom turns to face me, and the look in his eyes makes my chest tight. “What I want to know is why you didn’t tell me.”

“Tell you what? That I kissed someone?” I cross my arms, putting up barriers even though I know they won’t work on him. “Since when do I report my personal life to you?”

“Since the someone you kissed is Kieran fucking Frost and since you’re not just anyone. You’re Vincent Blackwood’s daughter. You’re under my protection, and apparently, you’re the center of a game I don’t understand the rules to.”

“What do you know about my father’s death?” I ask.

If there’s someone I can trust, it’s Dom.

Even if he might want to act like he can control me under the guise of protection.

Dom goes very still, that predatory stillness that means he’s deciding how much truth to reveal. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “More than you think. Less than I should.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.” He moves closer, not quite invading my space but making his presence impossible to ignore. “What I need to know is where your head is at, Raven. If you’re compromised?—”

“Compromised?” I snap. “By one kiss?”

“By whatever game you’re playing with four different men who all want different things from you.” His eyes never leave mine. “Marcus wants to use you as a weapon. Axel wants to corrupt you. Kieran wants to claim you. And me?” He stops, his jaw working.