Page 12 of Rook

But it’s short-lived; Rook’s already moving to the bodies, his curse slicing through the aftermath. “Eclipse,” he spits, kicking away a fallen weapon with disgust.

“Let’s get these bodies inside, now.” Luka steps closer, urgency lacing his tone. “Don’t wanna draw any more attention than we already have.”

I meet his eyes and a look passes between us, hot and heavy with unspoken words. It’s the pull of our mating bond, one we’ve barely consummated, and seeing him…

Fuck.

We’re playing with fire, and every flicker of heat threatens to consume us whole.

Chapter six

Aisling

Blood never bothers me, not anymore.

I grip the collar of a dead gangster’s jacket, his body heavier than sin as Rook and I drag him across the cracked tiles of the church’s sanctuary. We lay him beside the others, three lives snuffed out in a city that chews up souls for breakfast.

“Feels like sacrilege,” Rook mutters, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Are you religious?” I ask, brow furrowing.

He shrugs. “Was brought up Catholic, just like most kids where I’m from…but not for a while.”

“For what it’s worth, I think God’s left the building,” I mutter.

Luka grunts from behind us, a shadow peeling off from the gloom to stand sentinel by the door. He’s got that look in his eye, the one that says he’s seen too much death for one lifetime—and it shows me just how much he’s changed. When I knew him before New Eden, he was always calm, easy to smile.

Now, though? He’s tense, wound tight.

He doesn’t trust himself…or me.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says, voice rough like gravel. “I need a damn drink.”

“Thought you were sober,” Rook frowns.

“Tea,” Luka huffs. “The drink is tea.”

Rook claps a hand on my shoulder, and we follow Luka through the narthex and up a narrow staircase hidden behind what used to be a confessional booth. The apartment above the church is the same old familiar space—old, well-loved furniture, a coffee table between two couches now clear of the drug paraphernalia he used to keep there. Luka moves with a purpose, locking each door behind him, a fortress against the chaos outside.

“Didn’t know it was this bad,” Rook comments, collapsing onto one of the ancient couches.

“Gets worse by the day,” Luka replies. “Vance and the Rossis are digging in their heels. It’s younger blood looking to make names for themselves now.”

“Been too wrapped up in finding that antidote to notice,” Rook admits.

“Need to make a call,” I say, escaping the tension for a moment, fishing my phone from my pocket.

“Oberon?” Luka asks without turning around, his tone unreadable.

“Who else?” I shoot back and step away to find a semblance of privacy in the cramped space.

“Hey,” Oberon’s voice comes through the line, edged with concern. “You’ve been gone too long.”

“Got held up,” I tell him. “We’re at Luka’s. It’s safe…ish. Think we’re gonna spend the night so we can make sure the heat is off before we come home.”

“Be careful, Aisling,” he warns.

“I will, I promise we’re safe—“

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