Page 56 of Faith and Fury

Look at what Maverick just sent me.

He forwards an image of Faith, bent ever-so-slightly over a sewer grate. From this distance, it’s hard to fully appreciate the sweet curve of her jeans, perfectly rounded, or the way her breasts hang ever-so-slightly in her top.

But that sure as hell does not stop my inner alpha from preening.

JAXON

The prick.

I roll my eyes—He’s just trying to rile you up—and press send.

JAXON

Exactly.

The PRICK.

I smirk.

The more worrying messages come from Caleb. He updates me every couple hours, like he promised.

CALEB

She tried it again.

Keeps pushing herself.

I remind him of the breathing exercises we talked about. Then, if that doesn’t work, I suggest he lets his alpha take over.

Caleb responds another two hours later.

CALEB

She likes my scent.

A part of me dreads to think how the situation calls for him to use his scent at all, but another part is relieved. Caleb was all-too willing to brush me off when I last spoke to him about courting Faith. Maybe, after this expedition, he’ll think twice.

Neither Jaxon or Caleb have anything new to report by the end of the day. The atmosphere is thick with frustration—not in small part because Faith comes home reeking of a certain red-headed alpha.

“He’s doing it on purpose,” Jaxon mutters, drying the dishes.

“He’s an alpha,” I say. “It’s only natural.”

“Oh, then I guess it’s ‘only natural’ that I get to punch him in the face?”

I start to hand him another wet plate when Faith enters the kitchen, fresh and rosy from the shower.

Jaxon perks up. “Hey, gorgeous.”

She slides between us, taking the plate meant for Jaxon. My packmate and I look at each other, confused, as she grabs a tea-towel.

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her. “Really.”

She finishes drying, then signs something I don’t recognize—her hands outstretched, shaking. Seems pretty self-explanatory.

“You feeling a little on edge, angel?” I ask.

She sighs, gesturing for another dish.

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