ra

y apartment building. The engine cut, and the

clipped and cold. "I'm home."

ve. The door

d to face him. "What do

his movements unhurried. "I

y," I snapped. "It's

his lips. "Secure for some.

g my door before I could protest further. He gestured for

ing angrily on the pavement. I would get inside, lo

my keys, my

ed past me, and I saw a flash of

ck, and the door to my

door. My blood ran cold. "How... how do you have a k

g it onto my sofa as if he'd done it a thousand times.

the one place I thought was safe. It wasn't just control. It felt more primal, like a wolf secur

ce, pointing a trembling finger a

d my refrigerator, and peered inside. He wrinkl

r a tub of yogurt, some wilting

s to someone on the other end. "Steak. Salmon. Fresh vegetables

ant nothing to him. I lunged for his phone, but he simp

against his chest. "Don't be a brat," he murmured, his lips

nd mint that made my head spin. I struggled,

the silver-framed photo on the mantelpiece. Me an

ssion tur

ook the photo. Without a moment's hesitation,

in my house," he s

about Julian. It was about the photo. It was abou

d, guttural cry tearing from m

eet as if I weighed nothing. I kicked and screamed

ing and cursing, into

landed in a heap. Before I could scramble away, he w

ems," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "tha