NATE COLE'S POV
"You're shaking, Nathaniel," Adrian murmured against my lips. His voice wasn't mocking; it was observational, like a scientist watching a chemical reaction reach its flashpoint. "Is it the fear of what you've become? Or the thrill of finally stopping the fight?"
The hospital room was a vacuum. Outside those soundproofed doors, the world was screamingphones ringing at the CSI headquarters, warrants being drafted, my wife likely wondering why I hadn't answered her texts. But inside this sterile, high-end sanctuary, there was only the low hum of the heart monitor and the heavy, predatory heat radiating from Adrian Blackwood.
"Shut up," I breathed, the words lost as I crashed my mouth against his.
