Margot’s POV

The spell broke with a snap.

One moment, I was suspended in some kind of fever dream—left—and then suddenly, just like that, he was gone from me.

My body betraying every shred of logic I had. Coban stepped back with a sharp breath of amusement, the warmth of his body vanishing from in front of me like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water across my chest. I blinked rapidly, trying to catch up, trying to breathe.

His laugh cut through the tension in the room, cruel and effortless, like he hadn’t just had his mouth pressed to my neck like he owned it.

“Look at you,” he smirked, eyes raking down my face like he could see right through me—flushed cheeks, parted lips, and still–tingling skin. “You loved that, didn’t you?”

The burn hit my face before his words had even finished leaving his mouth. Right through my…

Embarrassment bloomed hot across my cheeks as I scrambled to take a step back, putting more space between us. Shame wrapped tight around my ribcage like a vice. God, had I looked that pathetic? That affected? So desperate?!

“I—” I stammered, but nothing else came. Because he was right. Not completely, not really, but… right enough to humiliate me.

Coban chuckled again, shaking his head as though I were some kind of inside joke that he was enjoying all on his own.

“You’re such a little virgin,” he drawled, like the word itself was a joke. “It’s fucking hilarious.”

My stomach dropped.

He had me figured out and branded a virgin from the second he met me.

Of course he knew.

I might as well have had it tattooed on my forehead, the way I’d frozen under his touch, the way my whole body had lit up like Christmas at the first brush of his mouth…

I dropped my gaze to the floor, the sting in my eyes returning stronger now, not from intimacy this time, but from humiliation. I hated the way that word made me feel. Like I was lesser. Like I was some fragile, untouched thing to be toyed around with.

But then he added, in a quieter hum, “My own little virgin.”

And that—that sent a new wave of emotion through me.

The possessiveness in his voice shouldn’t have made my stomach flip. But it did. And I hated it. Hated myself for the pathetic reaction.

I stood there in silence, still staring down at the floor, trying to find a way to disappear into the tile.

I didn’t know if my shame struck something up in him—maybe guilt? Doubtful. Or maybe just something less sharp—but before I could think too much on it, he stepped back in.

His fingers, rough and warm, slipping beneath my chin.

I flinched instinctively, not expecting the softness. But he didn’t grab or yank me; he just lifted my head up. Gentle. Steady.

He tilted my head up until my eyes met his again.

And there it was—that damn look that could make any girl melt on the spot. Another power of his, it seemed.

He studied me for a long moment. His brow creased slightly like he was trying to read a language he didn’t fully understand. Like he was looking through me again, deeper this time, to see what else he could uncover.

But then he sighed. Heavy. Dismissive.

“You hungry?” he asked abruptly, like it hadn’t just been my virginity we were dissecting a second ago.

He let me go again, moving to kick off his slides.

I blinked. “Sort of,” I muttered, grateful for the sudden shift in him—giving me the exit route from that emotional rollercoaster he’d strapped me into without asking since we stepped in here.

It was a lie, though.

I was actually starving. Not just food-starved, but emotionally drained, mentally shot. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, that now felt like a lifetime ago.

Coban gave me a curt nod. “Dinner is soon anyway,” he said. “We’ll go up after the laundry’s done.”

Laundry. Right. That felt like a thousand years ago too.

Time was impossible to track in this place!

I nodded, suddenly liking the idea of normalcy. Of routine. Of something that didn’t involve my neck and his mouth.

I moved toward the bed, unsure if I should sit or stand or… just evaporate. My body still hadn’t caught up with my brain, and both were just trying to act like everything was absolutely fine after what had happened earlier.

I would love to see Cara again soon, for a private offload, like the one we had in the gym yesterday morning, those two gone and distracted during their workout.

Maybe tomorrow? I hoped…

But then his voice pulled me back from the thought.

“In the meantime, why don’t you start that book you were looking at earlier,” he suggested.

I blinked back at him, turning slowly to find him gesturing lazily toward the small shelf beside the bed—the one with the battered, well–worn novels stacked crookedly in size order.

I stared at it, dumbfounded.

How had he even remembered that I had been looking at one of them during his meltdown?!

“Really?” I asked, almost too hopeful.

He shrugged, already moving across the room to fish something from a drawer next. “I’ve got someone coming here soon to see me. A guy. It’s a meeting—sort of nothing that concerns you,” he said with a flick of his hand. “So if a book keeps you quiet and out of the way, then… yeah, whatever.”

There was something in his voice—something that sounded like indifference but didn’t feel like it. Not entirely. Like he wanted me quiet, sure, but maybe also… comfortable?

I didn’t press the thought.

Instead, I turned and moved quickly toward the shelf, scanning the spines for the one that had caught my eye earlier—a romance novel with a twist, the blurb of it barely giving any of the contents away, which was exactly what I liked.

I spotted it, the navy cover, before I pulled it free, hugging it to my chest like a prize, before curling up onto the desk chair—shifting around to get comfy but, of course, finding it near impossible.

This was the first time I actually felt as though we were learning to coexist. Learning to actually share the space as equals?

I felt like a person.

Just a girl with a book.

Still caged. Still watched. Still very, very confused…

But maybe, just maybe, not completely broken down by him yet.

As I flipped to the first page, I let myself believe, just for a second, that this was a peace offering. That Coban wasn’t just keeping me quiet, but giving me something small. Something human.

And in a place like this… even something that small felt massive to me.

It was almost… kind?