Page 113 of Scarlet Wars
He wasn’t shouting, but the lethal control in his tone was far worse than anger.
“Fine!” I yelled, throwing my hands in the air. “I was jealous! Happy now?”
He stilled, his whole body going tense as his eyes locked onto mine. Neither of us moved, the admission hanging heavy in the air.
“You were jealous,” he repeated, this time softer, more like a statement than a question.
I crossed my arms tighter, looking anywhere but at him. “So?”
“Why?” he asked, voice low and edged.
I froze, pulse skittering. “Why what?”
“No. Fuck that!” he bit out, clearly starting to lose his patience. “Don’t use those bullshit evasion tactics on me, Emma.” His chest was heaving as he took the last step forward. “Why were you jealous?”
My heart slammed against my ribs, so loud he could probably hear it. I hated how vulnerable this made me, how cornered. Howexposed.
“Why does it matter?” I muttered, trying to duck behind the question.
Deflect. Defend.
“Because you have no reason to!” He roared like thunder, the kind of furious sound that left the walls ringing in its wake.
For a heartbeat, he looked almost shocked by his own volume, but then he dragged in a breath, reining himself back with visible effort.
When he spoke again, his voice was a low growl. “Last time I’m asking nicely, Emma.” His eyes were burning into mine. “Why. Were. You. Jealous?”
“I don’tknow, all right?” I exploded, the words a lot louder than I meant them to be. “I don’tknow!”
My hands flew to my face, trying to block him out, block everything out. “It’s driving me insane. Being this close to you every single day and not being able to just?—”
Caden caught both my wrists, pulling my hands away.
“To justwhat?” he growled, a threat wrapped in velvet.
My hands fell still. I met his gaze, and gods… It wasblazing.
He leaned in—close, way too close—his body a furnace, his eyes black fire. “You think you’re the only one losing it? You think I canbreathewith you in the room? You walk around like you don’t feel it, like you don’t want it, like we’re just friends?—”
He laughed without humor. Dark. Hollow. “It’sfucking torture.”
My heart pounded in my ears. I could smell him: smoke and sin and want. I could feel his need for me barely caged beneath his skin.
“I’m the one in hell, Emma,” he snarled. “You’re the one holding the reins here.”
Still holding both my wrists, he slammed them above my head, pinning me against the wall.
His grip was iron.
“So if you want something,” he growled again, “if you wantme…”
His breath was hot against my ear, sending a full-body shiver through me.
“Then fucking say it.”
His mouth hovered right below my jaw. One shift—just one—and his lips would be on my neck, claiming, ruining, worshipping. But he held still. Torturously still.
His body caged mine without mercy, all muscle and heat, and his grip on my wrists tightened like he knew I’d fall apart if he let go. But it was his stare that shattered me. Dark, hungry, possessive. As if he already owned me.
