Page 60 of In the Shadows

We slip into opposite sides of the booth, and Camilla pulls the glasses from her face but leaves the baseball cap in place. “Isn’t Crew going to be mad you brought me out?”

“I don’t care.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

CAMILLA

It’s weird being outside the four walls of the complex.

I never took my freedom for granted before, but just the taste of fresh air is enough to ensure I never start.

As we walked to the ice cream parlor, I kept my eyes out for familiar landmarks, trying to gauge exactly where I am and therefore where the complex is, but I’m struggling to place us. We’re definitely in the heart of the city, the number of people bustling around the streets at lunchtime was all the confirmation I needed of that, but the streets don’t seem familiar to me.

Admittedly, I never spent a lot of time exploring the city, but I’m hoping to spot a landmark, maybe notice the Empire State Building in the distance, and just generally figure out where the hell we are.

“You okay, love?” Bishop asks, breaking my thought process. Does he know I’m trying to place where we are to make my escape easier? Do I even want to escape anymore?

I don’t allow myself to consider that last question because the answer should be obvious. Of course I want to get away from them. Of course I want to run as far away from New York and the life that could potentially be thrust upon me if Charles gets his hands on me.

But even as I think it, I know it’s not entirely the truth. There’s a part of me, and not a small part, that can’t think of a single reason to leave the men of the Legion. I’ve grown close to three of them, and the fourth is like a grumpy puzzle I find myself wanting to solve, even when he’s a total asshole to me.

“Of course.” I force a smile on my lips. “Just strange being out of the house.”

He nods as his eyes dart around the shop for the fifth time since we took our seats. “I get that. You’ve been stuck in the complex for weeks, it must be nice to get some fresh air.”

I give a noncommittal shrug. As nice as it is, I feel exposed, as close to Charles getting me as I have been since the day his men beat the shit out of me and left me for dead.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. A little crampy, but nothing too harsh,” I tell him honestly. Talking about my period with a man like Bishop would have made me cringe a month ago, but after everything he’s done for me, it almost comes naturally. Plus, Kovu embarrassed the hell out of me last night, so nothing Bishop says is likely to be worse.

Before he can respond, a giant ice cream sundae appears in front of me, hot fudge sauce drowning the vanilla, and a cherry on top just, like in the movies.

I didn’t even know anyone still made them like this.

“Thanks, Kay.”

Bishop grins at the older woman, and I stare at him for long moments. This is a side of him he doesn’t show many people. I may have only been here for a few weeks, but everything I’ve ever heard about the infamous Bishop Black is that he’s cold, calculated, uncaring, and emotionless. But the man sitting in front of me is none of those things, and I realize that for him to be showing me this side of him, it means he’s not only growing attached to me, but he must trust me in some way. I mean, the fact that he’s brought me out today is all the proof I should need of that. I could run out the door and slip through the crowds of people before he could even think to chase me.

But I won’t. And I’m not ready to analyze why that is.

“Are you going to eat your ice cream? Or just stare at me all day?” he teases, his green eyes sparkling with humor.

A blush creeps across my cheeks as I pick up my spoon, giving me something to do other than look at him.

For the first time since I met them, I feel normal. Like this is a date of sorts. But that’s ridiculous, and I immediately reprimand myself for even thinking the word. Men like Bishop don’t date. They would never feel the need to do something so incredibly basic. Not when they can have whoever they want, whenever they want. Why would they bother putting in that kind of effort?

I slip a spoonful of ice cream between my lips and immediately moan as the flavors explode over my tongue. Holy shit, this stuff is good. Before I’ve even swallowed the first mouthful, I have the spoon poised at my lips again, not wanting to allow it to melt before I can enjoy every bite.

My eyes flick up to Bishop, where he’s staring at my mouth, his gaze full of lust. But I’m just eating ice cream? What’s so interesting about that?

I keep my eyes on him as I slide the spoon between my lips again and clean the shiny metal before pulling it from my mouth with an overexaggerated pop.

Bishop groans, tearing his eyes from my mouth and staring up at the ceiling.

“You gonna eat your ice cream?” I parrot his question back to him, and when his eyes meet mine again, they’re sparkling with mischief.

He scoops a generous amount of ice cream and hot fudge sauce onto his spoon before repeating the exact same moves I just made, and suddenly, I realize that, yes, ice cream, in fact, can be sexy as hell. “Two can play at that game, love.”

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