Chapter 193
Raven
My hand moved instinctively toward my mouth—toward the blood still fresh on my lips from biting him. His blood. The taste of copper lingered, metallic and strangely intimate.
Nash's fingers caught my wrist before I could touch my face. Gentle. Firm. Possessive.
"Don't."
I blinked. "What?"
"Don't wipe it away." His thumb traced the edge of my jaw, just beneath where I knew his blood stained my skin. Those storm-gray eyes held mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter. "I like knowing you marked me."
What the actual—
"You're a psychopath," I said flatly.
His smile was slow. Devastating. "Says the woman who just bit through my lip during what she thought was a terrorist interrogation."
"That was strategic."
"That was hot."
My face heated. Goddamn it. I did not blush. I was Phantom. I'd seduced targets in five languages before killing them. I'd walked through rivers of blood without flinching.
But somehow this infuriating man with his dark humor and darker eyes could make my cheeks burn with a single sentence.
"How the hell are you even here?" I yanked my wrist free—or tried to. He held on, not restraining, just... connected. Like he couldn't quite let go. "Last time I checked, this was a classified government training facility."
Nash's grin widened. "Want me to explain on the way?"
"The way to where?"
"The real celebration." He tugged me gently toward the door. "You passed, by the way. Congratulations, Special Agent Martinez. You're officially invited to the Presidential Gala at the White House next week."
I stopped walking. Or rather, tried to stop walking. Nash kept moving, which meant I stumbled forward, still attached to his hand.
"Wait. What?" My brain was doing that thing where it processed information three seconds too slowly. "Presidential... the President? Of the United States?"
"That's typically what 'Presidential Gala' implies, yes."
"But I—"
"Come on." Nash's tone shifted to something warmer, more genuine. "Everyone's waiting outside to congratulate you."
And just like that, we were moving again. His hand in mine. Natural as breathing.
When did this become normal?
More concerning: Why doesn't it feel weird?
Five weeks ago, Nash Wilder had been my cryptic, possibly-dangerous neighbor. The leader of Ares Legion. A man I'd simultaneously wanted to kill and kiss.
Now he was holding my hand like we did this every day, walking me through a concrete bunker that had recently doubled as my personal torture chamber, and I wasn't pulling away.
I wasn't even trying to pull away.
What the hell is wrong with me?
---
Sunlight hit my face the moment we stepped outside.
I blinked, squinting against the sudden brightness. The "building" we'd just exited wasn't a building at all—it was a reinforced steel bunker built into the hillside. Portable. Modular. The kind of structure you could disassemble and relocate in under six hours.
Of course it was fake. Everything about that test had been designed to break us.
And I'm the only one who saw through it.
"Raven!"
Katya practically launched herself at me, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug that made my bruised ribs scream. I didn't care. I hugged back despite my usual aversion to physical contact.
"Congratulations!" She pulled back, gripping my shoulders, her eyes still slightly red-rimmed. "I knew you'd figure it out—well, no, actually I was terrified they were going to chainsaw me in half, but—" She laughed shakily. "—but then you did that insane thing with the kiss and the bite and suddenly everyone was saying 'exercise complete' and I thought I was going to throw up from relief."
"You okay?"
"Okay? I genuinely believed I was about to die." She wiped at her eyes. "That was the most traumatic fifteen minutes of my life, and I once got stuck in an elevator with my ex-boyfriend for six hours." She shuddered. "But you—you actually won. You saw through the whole thing."
"The temperature was wrong," I said. "Fire that size should have—"
"Wait." Her gaze dropped to where Nash still held my hand. Her expression transformed from residual terror to absolute delight. Her smile turned wicked. "So this is the Nash you told me about? The one who makes you—"
"Don't." I felt heat crawl up my neck. "Don't finish that sentence."
"—happy?"
Damn it.
Ethan appeared at Katya's shoulder, his expression somewhere between awe and abject terror. "Nash Wilder." His voice cracked slightly. "As in... the Nash Wilder. Leader of Ares Legion. Commander of a private military force that operates in seventy-three countries. The man who single-handedly destabilized three dictatorships and has a bounty on his head from six different terrorist organizations." He adjusted his glasses, hands shaking. "The Northern Hemisphere's most dangerous man."
I glanced at Ethan. "You recorded him too?"
Ethan's face lit up. "He's at the very top of my list! Seven Wikipedia pages, three documentaries, a podcast with two million downloads, and a forty-thousand-subscriber subreddit tracking his movements."
Nash's laugh was low. "The theories are entertaining. My favorite is the one claiming I'm a vampire."
"That one's been debunked," Ethan said seriously. "Flight logs don't match sunrise patterns."
I stared at him. "You actually investigated whether Nash is a vampire?"
"Due diligence."