I barely registered the blur of movement before the ground caught me hard, the weight of him crashing into mine as he drove me down, his iron grip locking around my wrist.
The shard clattered uselessly to the floor, forgotten. Fire shot up my arm from the pressure of his grip. His body was heat and unyielding muscle against mine, a suffocating press that should've left me cold — but it didn't. It scorched. It thrummed, some alien, electric thing racing under my skin like a live wire.
I glared up at him, chest heaving, hair a mess in my face, and saw it reflected back, that same wildfire spark. His gaze pinned mine, the full weight of him settling over me like gravity itself, and for one disorienting second I forgot how to breathe.
His hand stayed wrapped tight around my wrist, and his other braced against the floor beside my head.
"You really are fucking relentless," he muttered, voice lower now, something rawer scraping beneath the words.
