Page 72 of A Bloom in Winter

Apex pointedly looked down at the male’s hand. When it was removed quickly, he was almost disappointed.

“I’m here to do cameras and linkups. That’s it.”

“Fine,” the guy hissed as he took out his wallet. “I’ll pay you.”

Up came a fan of hundreds, and Apex rolled his eyes. “That’s your solution for everything, isn’t it.”

“A thousand dollars. C’mon. Take it—”

“You put that money away right now, or it’s going somewhere other than back in your billfold.” Apex leaned in. “You want herto go, you can talk to her yourself. I’m not doing your dirty work just because you’re waving Benjamin Franklins in my face.”

Remis jabbed his forefinger. “You’re not the only tough guy I know. Be careful. I may call for the kind of reinforcements that can put even someone like you in a choke hold.”

Baring his fangs, Apex growled, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

At that moment, the door opened and the cold came in. Along with Mayhem and Mahrci—

The third figure was identified first by scent, second by sight, and lastly by a sudden thickening behind his button fly that he really could have done without. But, yup, Callum was also entering through that heavy old door, both hands laden with Hannaford bags, limp very noticeable.

Fun fact: Did his wolven side limp, too?

Guess that was more a question.

Mahrci stopped short, even though she had to already know her ex was here, given the car outside—and Callum had to sharply swerve around the female. As the wolven stumbled, he looked up.

Right into Apex’s eyes.

And didn’t that suck all of the oxygen out of the entire house . . . maybe out of a radius of fifteen miles. Meanwhile, as they stared at each other, Apex was vaguely aware of some truly awkward moments unfolding around him, but the Remis drama could wait.

His wolven was the only thing on his radar.

Walking over to Callum, he said, “Let me help you.”

“I’m okay.” The wolven nodded out the front door. “But there’s more in the back of your car.”

“You’re limping worse than you were and need a doctor—”

“No, I’m not and no, I don’t—”

“—and where the fuck are your clothes?”

They stopped talking and looked over at Remis. The aristocrat was ugly-flushed, and not bothering to hide it as his stare raked up and down the female.

“She looks dressed to me,” Mayhem drawled.

“Who the hell are you?” Remis snapped. Then he poked that stupid finger in Mahrci’s face. “You and I are going to have a talk downstairs.Right now.”

Annnnnnd cue the intervention.

Before Apex knew what he was doing, he stepped in front of Mayhem, clapped grips on those rock-hard biceps, and pinned the other male against the beadboard.

“Easy there,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, I’m not gonna hurt him.”

This was said as Mayhem fixated on Remis like he was already ripping the front of the guy’s throat out with his bare hands.

“Riiiiiiiight—”

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