I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of coffee wafting from within the kitchen. Stepping inside, I go to the coffee machine. Maria is already cooking, humming to herself under her breath.

In my periphery, I see Rafael sitting at the breakfast bar, but I’m not ready to look at him. He slept in the bed with me. He stayed to make me feel safe. I can feel his gaze burning into me, and my stomach coils tightly in response. I make a cup of coffee and take a seat across the bar from him before finally steeling myself and lifting my gaze to his.

He clasps a mug in front of him, both his large hands wrapped around it, his elbows braced on the counter. I notice the way his suit jacket strains over his bunched biceps and his shirt buttons pull slightly beneath his wide chest. I force myself to look away, and he huffs a low laugh.

“Ah, avecita, you continue to surprise me.”

I look up at him beneath my lashes. His eyes flash with something dark, something I recognize all too well: desire. I’m not sure if it’s unnerving or settling that he finally seems…human. “You said you’d teach me to shoot.”

He smirks and places his coffee down, reaching inside his jacket. He pulls out a gun and places it on the counter in front of him.

“No guns on the table!” Maria flicks him with a dishcloth, and he rolls his eyes before standing and walking to the door, gun in hand, oozing that casual power with every step. Even if you didn’t know who Rafael was, you’d guess he was important just from the way he moves.

He pauses and glances over his shoulder at me. “Well?” He walks off without waiting for a response. I hop off the bar stool, hurrying to grab my crutches and follow. Men move out of his way, murmuring greetings as he passes them. No one pays me any attention as we leave the house, walking out into the gardens. Beyond the tall, perfectly cropped hedges, there’s a building. It looks like a barn, with wooden sides, and a corrugated metal roof. Rafael grabs the handle of one of the enormous doors and slides it along its runners. He moves to the side, and I hear the click of several switches, eliciting a low buzz as a row of lights thrum to life above us. Holy shit. It’s like some kind of weapons vault in here. Along the right-hand side are cages filled with racks of rifles and handguns.

“You have enough for an army,” I breathe.

He unlocks a cage and takes out a rifle, snapping something on it into place. “Exactly.” He looks up at me, those dark eyes predatory and calculating.

He hands me the rifle, and I carefully take it from him, wrapping my fingers around the cool metal of the barrel. A knowing smile crosses his face as his fingers brush mine. He points to the far end of the barn, and I look up at a target shaped like a person. Taking a remote from his pocket, he presses a button. The target glides closer until I can see the bull’s eye printed on it.

“Well, go on,” he says with a flourish of his hand. I take a shaky breath and raise the gun. “Stop.” I freeze, and he moves closer, repositioning my hands on the gun. “Place the butt to your shoulder. Focus down the sights.” I do as he says and he positions himself behind me, around me. I’m reminded of the room of death in his basement, the way his body held mine as I shot a man. His body presses against mine once again, and my breath hitches. I wait for a sense of fear or disgust to rear its head, but it never comes. My heart pitter-patters a curious tune, tentative and anxious, yet wanting.

Calloused fingers slide over my own. “Flick the safety off.” His voice is a low rumble that sends warm air rushing over my neck, and I involuntarily tilt my head to the side. His thumb moves the small switch beneath mine. “Take a deep breath.” The words send goosebumps racing down my arms. His lips brush the point just below my ear. “Focus on the target. Then exhale and pull the trigger.” He slowly pulls away from me, and I feel suddenly cold without his touch. I never thought I would think that about any man. Pulling myself together, I focus, staring down the sight at the target in front of me. I exhale a long breath and pull the trigger. The gun explodes, sending a jolt into my shoulder and making my ears ring. I lower it and look at the target. There’s a neat hole to the left-hand side on the outer ring of the bull’s eye.

“Good.” He takes his gun from the holster at his chest and hands it to me, taking the rifle. “Now this one.” I stare at him for a second. “Rifles are easier but harder to carry,” he explains. “Stand like this.” He grabs my hips and maneuvers me until my back is pressed to his chest again. A fissure of unease attempts to rise as he pulls my ass flush to him, but it quickly dissipates when his hand gently wraps around my waist. His thumb strokes circles over my hip almost absentmindedly as he speaks. “Now, this is harder because the gun has more kickback. Don’t fight it.” He pulls both my arms up in front of me. “Both hands, like this.” He positions my hands, and then his fingers trail down my arms. “Take the safety off, and then do the same as before. Breathe in, out, then pull the trigger.”

I do as he says and the loud bang echoes around the barn deafeningly. This time the bullet careens off, hitting the wall somewhere behind with a spark of metal. “What…”

“You fought it,” he says. “Some things, Anna, are too forceful. You can’t fight it. You can only accept it and adjust accordingly.” I’m not sure we’re talking about shooting anymore.

I swallow hard. “How do I adjust?”

He smiles and strokes a strand of my hair away from my face. “You predict the outcome.”

My skin tingles under his touch, and I feel blood creeping into my cheeks.

“I know nothing about dangerous weapons. How can I possibly predict them?” He moves behind me again and grabs my hips, pressing his cheek to mine.

“Practice, little warrior.”

We stay in the barn for hours until I manage to consistently hit within the first three rings of the bull’s eye. I’m pretty sure it’s mostly fluke, but I’ll take it.

“Good,” Rafael finally says. I slide the clip out the bottom of his gun and reload it before handing it back to him with the safety on.

“Wouldn’t want you getting caught with no bullets.” I smile as I look up at him, but quickly drop my gaze.

His finger lands under my chin, and he forces me to look at him. His dark brows are slanted in a frown, his lips pressed together. He’s so cold but so beautiful. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Look away from me like you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Lies.” His lips quirk, his eyes falling to my lips. His thumb strokes the length of my jaw. “You don’t need to fear me, little warrior. Not many can say that.”

“You do scare me,” I admit, my mouth going dry. He steps closer, so close that my chest brushes his stomach. He cups my face in both hands and touches his forehead to mine. “But not for the reasons you think,” I whisper. It’s because of this right here. This pull he has over me, the inherent want to be near him because he feels like the only safe haven in an apocalyptic world. Because when I’m with him, I don’t need to be quite so strong.

He pulls back slightly and stares at me. I get lost in his gaze until I feel like I’m drowning in it, consumed by it, protected and possessed under its dark depths. And then his lips are on mine. The softest of brushes. My body tenses for a second and my mind grapples with itself, but he strokes my face so gently, it soothes my panicked heart. He holds me and kisses me like I’m something precious and breakable, something treasured.

When he pulls away, I can barely breathe. “Never fear me, Anna.” He presses his lips to my forehead once, and then he’s turning away. I watch him stalk from the barn with his scent still clinging to me, and my lips tingling from his kiss. No, I’m not scared of him. I’m scared that he of all people might ruin me because he makes my heart hope in spite of my head and hope will break me. Hope is all I have left, the last piece I have to give.

I’m playing a deadly game, and Rafael D’Cruze might destroy me where hundreds before him have failed.