His Kind Of Cage

Christie's POV

"It wouldn't be a cage," he snapped, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "It would be yours."

"No," I said quietly. "Thank you. But no."

He didn't argue further, but the tension in the truck was so high it felt like the glass might shatter. We pulled up to the curb in front of my house. The sterile white columns and perfectly manicured lawn looked the same as always, but I felt like a stranger looking at them.

Lyon killed the engine. He didn't get out. He turned in his seat to face me, his expression raw.

"You think you’re safe here," he said. "But we both know you're not. They don't see what you are, Christie."

"I know what they see and maybe I'm used to it," I said.

Before I could reach for the door handle, his hand was behind my neck, pulling me toward him. It wasn't a question this time. The kiss was deep, possessive, and full of a hunger that made my brain go completely blank. It felt like a claim, a brand that I knew I wouldn't be able to wash off.

I was breathless when he finally let me go. My heart was thumping against my ribs so hard it hurt.

Just as I turned to open the door, the front house door swung open. Anna stepped onto the porch, wrapped in a silk robe that probably cost more than everything I owned. Well, maybe except my car.

Anna stopped dead, her eyes widening as she took in the massive, expensive truck.

"Well," Anna called out, her voice dripping with venom as she started down the steps. "Look who finally decided to show up."

I stepped out of the truck, my legs feeling like jelly. I didn't look back at Lyon, but I could hear his door opening.

"Where have you been, Christie?" Anna sneered, stopping a few feet away. She looked me up and down, her lip curling at my rumpled clothes. "Mother has been telling everyone you’ve been prostituting yourself in some cheap motel. You look like a mess. Did your 'client' run out of money?"

I flinched, my old timidity trying to pull me under. "I was working, Anna. I told you—"

"Working?" Anna laughed, a loud, fake sound. "Is that what we’re calling it now? You disappear for days, ruin our reputation with the suitor from Paris, and then show up in a truck that probably belongs to some—"

She stopped midsentence. Lyon had stepped around the front of the truck. He didn't just stand there; he loomed over her, his presence making the entire driveway feel small.

"You must be the sister," Lyon said. His voice was like ice.

Anna blinked, her sneer faltering as she actually looked at him. I saw the moment her brain registered his expensive watch, his tailored clothes, and the sheer, dangerous charisma he radiated.

"And who are you?" Anna asked, her voice shifting into something breathy and fake.

"Someone who actually values your sister's brilliance," Lyon said. He looked at her with a disgust that was so plain it made me wince. "It's a shame her own family is too blind to see it. Christie saved a life this week. What did you do? Pick out a new robe and added a few more mean words to your vocabulary?"

Anna’s face turned a blotchy red. She opened her mouth to snap back, but Lyon ignored her completely. He turned to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you again, Doctor Christie," he said, his voice loud enough for Anna to hear every word. "For everything. I'll be in touch."

He climbed back into the truck and pulled away without a second glance at my sister. Anna stood there in the dust, her eyes fixed on the retreating taillights.

"Where did a pathetic thing like you find a man like that?" Anna hissed, turning her rage back on me. "That car... that man... he doesn't belong with someone like you and you well damn know it."

I didn't answer. I just grabbed my bag and walked toward the house, my heart still racing from the kiss and the look in Anna’s eyes.