His dark presence slices through the tension in the room like the sharpest blade, his striking, lethal appearance just as honed. The stylish black suit and long overcoat taper to his toned build to emphasize every leanly defined muscle.

His hands are no longer bandaged, revealing the celestial tattoos and inked sigils. The memory of his slashed palms grazing my skin sends a hollow throb between my thighs. I’m flint to his abrasive surface, and we’re entirely too combustible.

On impact, his gaze crashes into mine to make that grounding connection, and suddenly we’re the only two people in the room.

Time slows when Kallum looks at me, the rules which govern the universe no longer apply, and I can feel his gaze like a brushfire racing over my body, feel the unquenchable burn when his eyes settle on my lips like a brand.

Past and present collide, each memory layering one on top of the other to twist me, and I wonder how I was ever able to deny what’s between us.

The crooked slant of his lips exposes that devilish smile, and I’m affected. Utterly. A light bruise dusts his jaw from his fight with Alister, which only serves to make his heady sex appeal more dangerous. Yet there’s more behind his façade meant to charm and devastate, a shared, hidden knowledge between us that leaves me swirling in the molten blue and green of his captivating gaze.

Like that moment I first saw him at the Briar visitation table, and he looked right into me, disarming me and weakening my defenses.

I never stood a chance.

“Welcome back, Dr. St. James,” Kallum says, failing to suppress a devious grin. Even his formal address sounds suggestive in his deep baritone. The way the syllables of my name curl around his tongue, the offending muscle might as well be forked. “You look recovered.”

The innuendo to my recovered memories is delivered with a conspiratorial wink before his clashing gaze touches on my skirt. Where I felt nothing but repelled by Riddick’s obvious perusal, I’m a tangle of heat and yearning as Kallum drinks me in.

“I’m healing up fine. Thank you for noticing, Professor Locke.” I intentionally glide my palms along my hips, earning a smoldering smile from him that pops the slight dimple in his cheek. I lock my arms around my midsection, afraid of my own body and the loss of control when he’s this close.

I feel on display, as if everyone in this room can see the truth of us.

More concerning is the fact that I suddenly don’t give a damn.

As I was in debriefing for most of last night, and Kallum spent majority of today conferring with his lawyer, we haven’t been in contact since we parted at the crime scene.

His tongue deliberately chases the curled seam of his lips. There’s so much deviant promise held in his heated eyes before he mercifully directs his gaze to the interrogation room. I know he’s recalling what transpired there, and the following moments that led to Alister’s attack on me.

Even after he delivered his retribution on the agent, I can sense the lingering ripple of anger as a muscle tics along his tight jaw.

He leans down close to my ear, and I shiver at his intimate proximity. “Did you wear that infernal skirt to fuck with me, little Halen?”

“Said like a true narcissist,” I counter with a smirk. “Not everything is done with you in mind, professor. As there isn’t much time for laundry when working a case, these are the only clean clothes I have at the moment.”

Something wild flashes in his eyes, a dare to make me as dirty as his thoughts.

I sense the curious press of Detective Riddick’s gaze before he eases toward us. “I heard you’ve been cleared of any charges,” Riddick says to Kallum, his eyes dropping to the evident bruises along Kallum’s knuckles. “That’s one hell of a lawyer you have there.”

Kallum flashes a dark smile. “The best a psychopath’s money can buy.”

“There were never any charges pressed, Detective Riddick,” I say, setting the record straight. “I believe the whole ordeal was a misunderstanding.”

“Of course,” Riddick says, his glare heavy on Kallum. “Although Agent Alister isn’t around to give his side, but I’m sure it was just a simple misunderstanding between professionals.”

Tension gathers as a beat of awkward silence settles around us. Hernandez tugs at the knot of his necktie before he slips off toward Rana, leaving the three of us standing, staring.

“This is taking too long,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension. “We should already be out there searching for Devyn.”

Riddick draws closer to my side. “You’re not going back into the field.” His tone is incredulous as his gaze pans over me, landing hard on the distinct bruises striping my neck, the ones left behind by Kallum’s belt. “Not after what happened.”

A hard mask descends over Kallum’s face, and he tips his chin higher. “Be careful, detective. The last person who looked at her like that wound up flayed.”

The air charges with the crackling intensity of Kallum’s near admission. My heart plummets, leaving me suspended in disbelief.

“That sounds suspiciously like a threat,” Riddick says.

Kallum’s chuckle is caustic. “Excellent detecting skills, detective.”

“Kallum,” I say, my voice low in warning.

“No, I get it.” Riddick turns a softer, somewhat forced smile on me. “The professor here is clearly marking his territory. In bad taste, I might add.”

A measure of relief frees my constricted lungs, but only marginally. While Riddick’s ego can brush off Kallum’s remark, the fact is Kallum is skirting too dangerously close to getting himself detained. Again.

Before the situation escalates, Agent Rana addresses the team. “We need to recover a significant amount of time. Let’s start.”

Kallum and Riddick continue to stare at one another, each one waiting for the other to be the first to back down. I step in front of Kallum, my eyes saying what my voice can’t.

He’s garnering all the wrong attention.

Finally, Kallum takes a step backward, aiming a callous smirk at the detective before he pivots in the direction of the table. Rana begins issuing directives to the task force to further dissipate the male aggression.

In contrast to his primitive behavior, Kallum pulls out a chair for me in chivalrous offer. I set my tote on the floor and seat myself, and his finger traces my shoulder, unable to deny himself that single touch. I feel that touch ricochet against every cell in my body.

“Stop marking your territory,” I say to him in a hushed tone.

He sits adjacent to me at the corner of the table, a smug smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “I apparently didn’t mark it well enough the first time.” He casts a scathing glare Riddick’s way. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

I believe him.

Kallum has poor impulse control. He doesn’t just like to rile people, he takes deviant pleasure in it. He doesn’t fear Riddick or anyone else here, he thinks he’s untouchable, and he’s blatant about that fact.

And despite the crushing fear of what will happen to him if he can’t restrain himself, the intense urge to drag him into the next interrogation room over grips me so fiercely, I have to press my hot palms to the cool surface of the table.

Something was unleashed within me the last time we were together, and it’s wild and unhinged and tears at the cage of my chest. I felt it the moment Kallum released his belt from around my neck, and I slipped into some state between.

I’ve never been broken so immensely, and yet felt so complete, whole.

Sitting in this stark room with loud fluorescents, agitation worms beneath my skin, like an itch festering too deep. If I don’t rake it free of my flesh soon, I’ll come apart.

Kallum’s gaze dips to the vee of my blouse, and I try to ignore the heat flashing my skin as I force my attention ahead on the interrogation room.