Page 71 of The Bound Blood
One corner of his mouth lifts a little higher—because he knows I’m right. Because he knows I’m rambling to keep from melting into the floor.
Raiden’s smile deepens—not wide, but real—and something inside me flips over.
“You really think I wanted to murder you?” he asks, voice dipping into that low, amused rumble.
“You glared at me like I’d personally insulted your ancestors,” I fire back.
His fingers slip from my cheek only so he can tug lightly, playfully, at a strand of my hair. “Maybe I was trying not to stare,” he says. “Did you consider that?”
I choke on air. “No. Absolutely not. That was not an option on the table.”
“Maybe it should’ve been.”
He steps in even closer, and the air changes—warmer, calmer. Like the storm inside him eases the longer I stand in front of him. His shoulders drop a fraction. The tight linesaround his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything about it, but the difference is unmistakable.
“See?” he murmurs. “You’re making that face again.”
I narrow my eyes. “What face?”
“The one where you pretend you can’t tell I’m right. But just a little tip—” he leans in, conspiratorial, “—I’m always right.”
I snort, loud and unladylike, and his grin widens like he’s been waiting for it. “I highly doubt that.”
“You’ll see.”
I swat his chest in mock-offense, but he catches my fingers mid-motion, warm and sure around them.
“You’re very confident in that,” I say, arching a brow.
“Mm. Nah.” His lips twitch. “I’m just right.”
But then something flickers behind his expression—something softer. He looks down at our joined hands like he’s surprised to find them there.
His voice drops. “Thank you for coming… when you felt my pain.”
My breath stills. “That’s what a pack does for each other, isn’t it?” I try to lighten it, to nudge him back toward that teasing smile, and it works—his eyes soften, the corners of his mouth lifting again.
Then he leans in, lowering his voice to a warm, dangerous murmur near my ear.
“If you keep showing up for me like that,” he says, “I’m going to end up putting a real bite on you one of these days.”
Heat detonates under my skin.
I jerk back an inch, face on fire. “R—Raiden.”
He grins—slow and satisfied—like heknewexactly what reaction he’d get.
“What?” he asks innocently. “Just stating facts. And remember—” his thumb sweeps lazy circles over the back of my hand, “—I’m always right.”
A soft creak carries through the temple, and the heavy doors swing inward.
Nolan stands framed in the doorway, breath misting in the cold air, eyes wide with worry. His gaze jumps from me to Raiden—and then to how close we’re standing, Raiden still loosely holding my fingers.
He freezes. Then clears his throat like he swallowed his own voice.
“Sorry—I, um—didn’t mean to—” Nolan stumbles over the words, cheeks flushing a little. “It’s been a while. I just wanted to make sure you two were… okay. I can come back, or?—”
“You’re not interrupting,” Raiden says immediately, voice steady—though he shifts just enough so Nolan doesn’t feel like he’s intruding on something private. His fingers stay wrapped around mine. “We were heading out.”
