"You don’t let anyone in, do you?"

Raven’s voice was quiet, but the words were sharp enough to cut through the low hum of the private jet. Jaxon didn’t look up from the glass of whiskey in his hand, the ice melting into slow, lazy circles.

“I let you in,” he said simply.

Her laugh was disbelieving, soft, and a little dangerous. “No, Jaxon. You want to let me in, but you don’t. Not really. You keep the walls up and the gates locked, like you’re waiting for the siege.”

He ...