Page 5 of Tempest

Tempest

Never in mylife would I have considered driving my Lykan to be an annoyance until right now.

Her low roar turns into a purr when I coast to a stop at the corner of 76th and Columbus in front of two girls who’ve completely fucked up my night.

The first idiot, I expected. Clover’s friend Mila struts to the curb, jutting her hip out and curving her smile like I’m a john about to give her the Pretty Woman moment she’s been waiting for. With her loud laughter, try-hard outfits, and pay-attention-to-only-me vibes she gives off every time I come across her, I don’t know what my sister sees in this friendship, but who am I to judge.

The other one, though, she catches my eye as I roll the window down, prepared to give them a good fuck you glare for not having the wherewithal to figure out a ride on an island that’s literally famous for its transport systems.

Ardyn Kaine.

The sequestered princess of Manhattan, a mystery to most and an enigma to any man who tries to get to know her. She’s the quiet, wallflower type, and therefore of no interest to me, if not for her title: the only child and heiress to Kaine Industries. Now that, I’d love to fuck.

I look past Ardyn in search of her bald, heavily bearded shadow and don’t find him anywhere.

Oh, I see. Bad girl.

I go back to her, smiling. “Did you fall headfirst out of your tower, Rapunzel?”

Ardyn scowls at me through the streaks of dirt on her face.

Mila steps in front of Ardyn before she can respond, not that she would. “Thanks for picking us up, Tempest. You got us out of a real bind.”

Reluctantly, I slide my attention over to her. “I’m sure.”

“That’s a two-seater.”

My brow jumps at the small, tentative voice behind Mila. “I’ve been told there’s plenty of room for two on my lap, yes.”

Mila laughs, though I’m anything but funny.

Ardyn steps out from Mila’s shadow. “I meant your car.”

“I know what you meant.” I offer another slow smile, the one that made her stumble and scrape the tops of her toes once she realized who rolled up on her. Your fault for not wearing shoes, princess. “There’s plenty of room for three.”

“Totally!” Mila agrees, too loudly. We’ve gained enough attention from pedestrians with the type of car I’m driving. I don’t need to add more by having them think I’m picking up a hooker and a runaway.

“I can sit in the middle,” Mila says, bending to open the passenger door.

I hit the auto lock button.

She glances through the window at me.

“Ardyn’s in the middle.” I don’t voice it as a question.

“But—” Mila looks back at her friend, then to me. “Why?”

“She’s thinner.”

Mila’s mouth drops open. I suppose that was crass of me, but I’m not suited to reading people’s feelings and have no desire to find the insight.

Had Mila been on the other side of that comment, she would have preened underneath the praise despite the barb aimed at her friend. In this case, the line between Ardyn’s brows only deepens as she folds her arms and stares down at me.

I admit, when pitting these two against each other, Mila should be the clear winner. Should be. She has the glorious body, flawless skin, and expertly injected lips. Natural or not, they’d be adept in bed. But I’ve always been drawn to broken things, wondering what caused those fractures and if I can stick a finger in them and crack them further.

Ardyn, the sweet creature, stands on this curb in ripped pajamas with dirt stains, tangled hair, and … leg. A lot of leg underneath those wrinkled shorts.

“Whatever,” Mila bites out, then jiggles the handle again. “Can we just go?”

---