Page 38 of Knight’s Salvation

“I don’t need a chaperone. Do other demi get escorts home from work?”

His silence was answer enough. She pushed the door wider and tried to squeeze through, but he surprised the hell out of her by grabbing her arm.

“About the other day, in the gym…I’m sorry.” His voice was guttural, hollow.

She didn’t want his apology. God, this was humiliating enough. Anger welled up inside her. She just wanted him to leave her alone. “Don’t worry about it, Zenon. I’m happy to tell you, you succeeded. You got what you wanted, because I sure as hell won’t delude myself where you’re concerned again.” She shrugged. “And hey, at least I got a few orgasms out of it, right? What do I have to complain about?”

His eyes flashed. “Don’t.”

There was an unmistakable warning in his tone, but at this point she was too pissed and hurt to stop and couldn’t shut herself up if she tried. “You’re good with your mouth, I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t,” he repeated, so low her toes curled.

She took a dangerous step closer, got in his space. “You should charge by the hour with a skill like that.” She opened her purse. “How much do I owe you?”

The rage contorting his face and the sparks of ebony exploding through the yellow of his irises finally managed to cut off her hurt-fueled rant. She flinched and tried to step back, but she had nowhere to go.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he hissed. Then his fist drew back and plowed into—no, through the glass behind her. The entire thing shattered with an earsplitting crash, and tiny shards of demolished security-toughened glass rained down over the foyer carpet like hail.

She stumbled back. “Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The rage washed from his face, replaced with unmistakable horror. “Mia, I’m sorry.” He fisted his hair. “I’m sorry.”

Mia backed away, glass crunching under the soles of her shoes. “Just…just stay the hell away from me.” Then she turned and ran for the stairs.