Page 73 of A Bloom in Winter

“Yes, Remis,” Mahrci cut in roughly as she put the bags she was carrying on the floor. “We do need to talk.”

Leaving all the males behind, she turned away and headed for the stairs into the basement. In her wake, everybody she’d ditched on the first floor had a moment of put-in-their-place. Naturally, the biggest dickhead in the group recovered first.

Remis sniffed a couple of times, like someone had blown pepper in his face. Then he straightened his jacket, popped his cuffs, and headed down after her.

“No,” Apex said as he didn’t move. “Forget it.”

“Step off,” Mayhem demanded. “I’m just going to go get the rest of the groceries.”

“Okay, but let’s make that a team effort.”

On that note, he let go of the guy, and then followed Mr. Helpful out to the Suburban. The second they got back in the door with the last of the bags, Mayhem dropped his load next tothe ones Mahrci had left behind—and went for the stairs down into the basement.

“Don’t try to stop me,” he announced. “And no, I’m not doing shit. Unless he does.”

Apex stood there, surrounded by crap he hadn’t bought and had no intention of eating, being filmed by cameras, the feeds of which were going nowhere, and getting stared at by all the glass eyes in those fucking heads . . . and all he could think of was—

“Callum?” he called out.

Picking up some of the bags, he followed the scent of the wolven into the kitchen, and found the male at the counter, unpacking things.

“Mayhem’s gone downstairs,” Apex said as he hefted the groceries up on the counter.

“You couldn’t stop him?”

“Didn’t even try.” He idly started taking things out, paying no attention to what he was throwing around the stainless steel counter. “I don’t want her down there alone with the asshole, anyway. Remis does something stupid, he’s going to get what he deserves.”

Callum stopped. Turned around. “So it’s just you and me.”

Apex found himself halting, too. All of a sudden, everything became crystal clear, almost painfully so, from the boxes of Barilla pasta, the carton of eggs, and the half gallon of milk . . . to the restaurant range with all its burners, the deep stainless steel sink, and the double ovens . . . to the wooden rafters, the aged oak table, and the pans that were stacked in an orderly pile on the shelf above the center island.

Still, only one thing truly registered on him.

Callum was staring across the space, his husky-like eyes gleaming with something that Apex didn’t really trust himself to interpret properly.

“How are you doing?” he heard himself say. “You want some food?”

“I already ate with a friend.”

The stab of jealousy was so ridiculous, he had to laugh.

“Why’s that funny?”

Apex shook his head. “Nothing—no reason.”

Nah, it was just that the universe seemed determined to keep kneeing him in the balls. Like it was any of his business, who the wolven had been—

“Do you know Blade?”

The laughter dried up fast at the name. “Yeah. I know him. Is that who you were with?”

An image of thesymphathcame to mind, and it was not a welcome one. Apex had run into the striking, highly intelligent—and very dangerous—male down in Caldwell a couple of times in the past decade.

Fucking wonderful.

“His leftovers aren’t bad.” Callum shrugged. “And he gives good advice.”

Apex frowned. “Wait a minute, was he at the prison?”

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