Page 45 of On Edge

I jerk my hand back, breath catching, seeing blood well fast, bright, and damning from thin cuts across my fingertips.

What the hell? Somethingcutme.

But I don’t have time to get upset. He could walk in at any moment. I glance around for something to stem the blood, but there’s nothing except a napkin that’s going to be too bulky. I wrap it around my hand anyway, hissing under my breath at the discomfort.

Then, with my other hand, I try the other pocket, this time, looking inside.

At first, I don’t see or feel anything, and my heart drops. All this risk can’t be for nothing.

But then his phone, sleek and razor-like, one of those folding models, is tucked inside the inner lining. Goosebumps prick all over as I slip it out. It’s surprisingly warm from being in his jacket, and very heavy. Is it made out of lead or something?

I wedge it down the front of my dress.

Just as the door to the kitchen opens.

It throws a monstrous shadow across the wall. I hide my napkin-wrapped hand behind my back and glance up in time to see Severin coming into the dining room.

He’s fully dressed in an expensive suit, his hair damp from the rain or a recent shower. He stops dead when he sees me hovering next to his chair.

“What are you doing?”

“ I-I was just…”

Severin strides over until he’s towering above me. “Just what?” His voice is molten fire, his emerald orbs turning me to ash where I stand.

At that moment, lightning floods the dining room in stark white, the storm choosing that moment to glare through the window. Each flash cuts across the planes of his cheekbones, his face shifting between man and monster as he glares at me.

“I was cold.” It’s the only thing I can think of. “And your jacket looked warm.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “You do seem to have a habit of stealing other people’s clothes.”

“I lost my suitcase.”

He stares at me for the longest time, eyes like shattered gems in the dark, and then his jaw clenches. “Then, I’ll get you a damn blanket. Go back to your seat.”

But the biggest dog I’ve ever seen, its muscles rippling beneath a dark coat, slinks in behind Severin. I stare at it, uncertain about moving.

Severin sees me looking. “Oh, Ben won’t bite.”

No, but you might.

A ghost of a feeling, of the first night when Severin’s warm mouth was on mine, suddenly makes my lips burn.

I force myself to walk calmly back to my chair, clutching my wrapped hand to my chest, and then sitting on it, concealing my injury as I slip into my seat. My heart is pounding like I’ve taken some illicit drug.

But Severin isn’t looking. He goes over to one of the trunks near the windows and takes out a thick herringbone blanket in a shade of forest-green.

It matches his eyes.

He brings it over to me. “Here.”

“Er, thank you.” But I can’t reach for it because I’m sitting on my hand. I didn’t think this through.

When I don’t take it, he sighs and slowly drapes the blanket around my shoulders. With how close he is, he’s able to see his phone in my cleavage if he so much as looks down.

“Warmer?”

I give a shaky nod.