“You’re reckless,” Kaz snapped. His cane slammed against the table as you marched past him.

“And you’re controlling!” you fired back, shoving him in the shoulder. He stumbled half a step, more shocked than physically moved.

His eyes darkened. “Do that again,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” you dared. “Scared I’ll knock the Bastard of the Barrel over?”

You stepped in. He stepped forward.

Then suddenly your back hit the wall. Kaz’s hand landed beside your head, palm flat against the brick. His body caged yours without touching.

That jaw. That stare. That infuriating calm.

“I don’t need to raise my voice to win,” he murmured, leaning in. “You already give yourself away.”

“How?” you demanded.

His gaze flicked to your lips, just for a fraction of a second. But for Kaz Brekker, even a fraction was a confession.

“That,” he said.

Your breath stuttered. “You’re staring too,” you whispered.

Kaz’s eyes locked on yours, something fierce and trembling under the surface.

“Because you’re a distraction,” he said. “A dangerous, infuriating, impossible distraction.”

His voice dropped lower. “And I still want you.”

He didn’t kiss you. But he didn’t move away either.

And that tension between you? Sharp enough to cut.