Free Night Falls on the Wicked by Sharie Kohler

knock sounded as she was patting her hands dry. Her heart jumped. She knew who it was before she looked through the peephole.
    Opening the door to a blast of cold air, she trained her expression into one of cool reserve as she prepared to face her knight in shining armor for the night.
    The last thing she expected to see was the cold fury gleaming in his indigo eyes. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled.
    Behind her, the whistle to the kettle blew.

E IGHT
    D arby gaped at him. “Excuse me?”
    Niklas looked particularly displeased as he stared down at her. “What do you think you are doing?”
    “Um.” She glanced over her shoulder at the rattling kettle. “Making some hot chocolate.”
    “Why are you even here?” He glanced disgustedly at the window covered in cardboard, apparently unbothered by the screeching kettle. “You can’t mean to stay the night here. You’ll freeze.”
    She moved into the kitchen and removed the kettle from the burner. “I have an electric blanket.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. Your boss expects you to—”
    “No. Sam invited me to stay the night with him and his wife.”
    “Then why didn’t you?”
    “Because I’m fine,” she snapped, getting annoyed. She couldn’t explain that she couldn’t fall asleep with others nearby—that she was adanger to them. And what business was it of his anyway? “It’s just for one night. He’ll repair the window tomorrow.”
    “One night is all it takes to freeze to death. And can you make it any easier for …”
    “For what?” she pressed, her eyes scanning him intently. Was this it? Would he say what he knew? Would he admit to possessing knowledge that matched her own suspicions?
    “Can you make it any easier for danger to find you?” he finished, his eyes glowing again.
    She pulled back, her gaze narrowing. “What are you talking about? Truly? Stop being vague.” She spoke quietly, almost as if she didn’t want the night to overhear her words.
    Deep in her bones, she felt there was more to this man. A lot more. Things he knew that she knew, too. They were toeing a dangerous line, dancing around each other with their secrets.
    “There are all kinds of things that could harm a woman alone. And you’re more vulnerable than most.” He motioned to the boarded-up window, but she noticed that his gaze drifted, moved to her front window, out at the sky, to the full moon hanging low on the night.
    “What business is it of yours anyway?”
    At this, he stared at her, a cold shutter falling over his gaze as the truth of her question drilled deep.
    “What do you care?” she demanded, pushing the point, feeling she was close. Close to pushing him away. Close to running him off for good. As much as the thought of this stung her, she charged ahead, needing to drive him away. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”
    A heavy beat of silence stretched between them, strained and uncomfortable.
    He inhaled. “You’re right.” He moved toward the door.
    She couldn’t make herself move or speak. She had to see him leave, had to watch him walk away even as an inexplicable ache built in her chest. She watched the broad shoulders, the rigid set of his spine and embraced that she’d never have him or any other man ever again.
    She’d said the words, done everything to get him to leave her alone—even as her heart, her body willed him to stay, willed him to come closer. To touch her as he had earlier with that simple brush of his fingers. To touch her
more
than that. To fill the ache of loneliness gnawing away at her.
    Weak, she knew, and foolish and selfish. But that was how she felt. Thankfully only how she
felt
. She gave nothing away, no outward sign, no indication that she wanted him to do any of those things. She was responsible, at least.
    What choice do you have?
    He stopped then, turned back and stared at her, pinned her with his deep gaze. She forgot how to breathe beneath that intense stare, both