Page 28 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

This time, as he guided her into the dance, everything felt different. More intimate. More deliberate. His hand settled more firmly against her waist, and she didn’t pull away. Instead, she found herself stepping closer, drawn by the heat radiating from his body.

‘You’re popular tonight,’ he said quietly, and she caught the slight tightness in his voice.

‘Jealous, Stratton?’ The question slipped out before she could stop it, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

He gave her a look that made her knees weak. ‘Not of his dancing.’

A sensation, warm and dangerous, stirred in her chest. They moved slower now, and she was intensely aware of his fingers interlaced with hers, the way his thumb traced small circles against her back, the whisper of his breath against her temple.

‘Were you always like this?’ she asked, needing to break the spell before she did something foolish.

‘Like what?’

‘Reserved. Watchful. Guarded.’

His eyes searched hers. ‘Not always. I used to be more of a fool if that’s what you mean. You might even have known him.’

The reference to their past made her breath catch. ‘Maybe I did.’ She smiled.

A beat of loaded silence passed between them. Then Jack murmured, ‘You looked happy out there. With him.’

‘I was just dancing.’ But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t entirely true. She’d been performing happiness, the way she always did. With Jack, she didn’t have to perform anything.

‘I know.’ He paused, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. ‘But I’m glad I got this one.’

The simple honesty of it undid her. Without thinking, she let her forehead rest against his chest, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. His hand moved to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her hair.

When the music faded, they stayed where they were, swaying slightly, lost in their own world. For once, neither of them needed to speak. The silence held all the truths they couldn’t say aloud.

Later, as the evening wore on and the last dance drifted into silence, Lizzie stifled a yawn and nudged Ellie with a fond smile.

‘Well,’ she said, looping her arm through Ellie’s, ‘I see now why you come home in a mood when he’s around.’

Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘Lizzie, this is Jack Stratton. Jack, my ever-observant housemate, Lizzie Cooper.’

Jack gave a nod and half-smile. ‘Pleasure.’

Lizzie’s grin turned sly. ‘You’re taller than I pictured. And broodier.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘You probably shouldn’t,’ Ellie muttered, though she was smiling, too.

***

All too soon, the spell of the night had run its course – and with work waiting for all of them come morning, Ellie and Lizzie decided to go home.

The girls gathered their coats, cheeks flushed, still laughing in that easy, tipsy way that made Jack forget, if only for a moment, everything waiting outside these walls.

He walked them out to the street, the cold air damp and heavy with fog.

The blackout left the street in near-total darkness, save for the weedy beams of light spilling from car headlamps.

A mist clung low to the ground, and as Ellie adjusted her scarf, the dim shapes of buildings loomed like shadows against the night.

‘It’s late. Let me see you both home. It’s the least I can do.’

Lizzie beamed at Ellie, nudging her lightly. ‘Is he always this gallant? Because if so, I approve.’

Jack stepped to the kerb and flagged down a taxi, the headlights slicing through the mist. When it stopped, he opened the door and gestured for them to get in. ‘I’ll take you back. Then I’ll head on.’

As the taxi rattled through the darkened streets, Jack found himself stealing glances at Ellie. She sat beside Lizzie, her head tilted towards the window. Every so often, her eyes would flick to meet his, and he’d feel that familiar jolt of connection.

He pretended not to notice, but how could he not?

She was magnetic; even when tired from dancing, she drew his attention like a compass needle finding north.

Seeing her laugh, watching her move with such unconscious grace, holding her close enough to feel her heartbeat …

All of these had demolished the walls he’d carefully built around his feelings for her.

She was sharp, brave, maddening. Always chasing the impossible, always three steps ahead of everyone else. But tonight he’d glimpsed the softness underneath, the vulnerability that made his chest ache with want.

He’d seen her at her fiercest, eyes flashing with intelligence and fury, voice steady when cornered by danger.

But he was falling for this version too: the woman who danced like silk caught in a breeze, who laughed with her whole body, who’d rested her head against his chest as if she belonged there.

He didn’t let himself think too far ahead.

He couldn’t, not in their line of work, not with the danger that followed them both.

But right now, with the engine humming beneath them and her reflection watching him in the glass, he let himself feel it – the warmth that had been building in his chest for months, the need he’d been trying so hard to deny.

Just her. For a little while, which was enough. But Christ, he wanted so much more.