"Lights. Level ten percent," he whispered.
The under-cabinet LEDs flickered to life. A low, amber glow washed over the kitchen, illuminating only the lower half of the room.
She looked up.
She saw a chest covered in black silk. She saw a sharp jawline, lips pale and pressed thin. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of his heavy brow and messy dark hair.
He was tall. Over six-foot-two. Athletic build.
He looked... human. Not a monster. He looked exhausted.
He waited, his hands open at his sides, palms showing. He was demonstrating that he was unarmed.
"The deal," he reminded her.
She swallowed hard. She had to go through with it.
She tilted her head to the side, exposing the junction of her shoulder and neck.
He moved in slowly, like he was approaching a startled deer. His hands found her waist. His grip was firm, possessive, pulling her off the counter and into him.
He lowered his head. His breath was hot on her skin now.
He bit.
He didn't break the skin. It was a hard, grinding pressure.
She gasped. It was pain mixed with shock. It felt primal.
He held the bite, groaning deep in his chest. The vibration traveled through her body.
For Bradford, the pressure stimulated his vagus nerve, sending a cascade of calming chemicals through his system. The world stopped spinning. The pain stopped.
For her, it felt like being branded.
She counted the seconds. One. Two. Three.
She reached behind her back, her fingers fumbling blindly for the door release button on the side of the island.
He was distracted. Drugged by her presence.
She found the button. She pushed it.
CLICK.
The magnetic lock disengages.
Bradford pulled back instantly, his eyes snapping to her hand. He looked dazed, his pupils blown wide.
"Cheater," he whispered. But he didn't sound angry. He sounded amused.
She shoved him hard in the chest.
He stumbled back, weakened by the sudden dopamine rush.
She bolted for the door.
