Page 53 of Juliet & Her Romeos

I love the name on the Alpha’s lips.

Vito wrenches off his warm biker jacket and wraps it around my shoulders.

My eyes widen.

Ambrose is the only Alpha who has given me his clothes before. I bury into the warmth of the jacket, taking more deep breaths of its delicious vanilla espresso scent.

“You’re safe,” Vito promises with a quiet earnestness that catches me off-guard. “Your boyfriend caught you. And I’m here now.”

“B-b-boyfriend?” I choke.

Shit, is it that obvious?

It’s a secret.

A fucking important one.

“Isn’t he?” Vito quirks his brow. “He looked ready to tear out my throat…”

“He’s my best friend,” I say because that’s not a lie.

“And born high on the feral spectrum,” Swan adds.

Unexpectedly, Vito looks delighted.

Vito’s only wearing a long-sleeved R.E.M band t-shirt underneath his jacket, apart from a scarf. He ignores the fact that he’s now shivering, however, and grips Swan lightly by the wrist to turn his arm from side by side. He examines the slash that runs across his upper arm.

I wince.

Guilt churns through me.

Despite the reassuring warmth and scent of Vito’s jacket, I’m still trembling from the shock of the fall and the sight of Swan’s blood.

He was injured because of me.

I bite my lip, anxiously watching as Vito shuffles closer to Swan.

He rips the bottom of his t-shirt off in a long strip. The sound makes me jump.

“R.E.M are one of my favorite bands.” Vito yanks the black material free, revealing an olive strip of his flat, sculptured stomach. I flush, forcing myself to look away. But I seriously don’t want to. “I’ve had this t-shirt, since I was sixteen. So, at least we’re sharing in the pain.”

Carefully, he starts to wrap it around Swan’s arm. I can tell how much it’s costing Swan to hold back his groan of pain.

Vito appears to understand as well because he casually keeps his eyes fixed on the makeshift bandage, tying it up as quickly as possible. “You look good like a trapeze artist on a night out to a glitzy club in that glittery tank top. But are you such a fashion victim that you’d wear it even on a winter day?”

“It’s my ballet uniform,” Swan snarls like he’s imagining sinking his teeth into Vito’s neck. “You’re the one who looks like an indie rock band reject.”

“Ouch.” Vito dramatically winces, but his smile widens. He raps his fingers on the bandage. “There, all done, beautiful. I’m a baker and not a doctor, but it should hold until we can get those doors open for you. Someone inside should be able to treat it properly, right?”

Well, someone likeme.

“Thanks.” Swan pulls his arm back with a grin, dragging his coat back on.

“A biker baker?” I wrap Vito’s jacket more firmly around myself, hoping that he won’t take it back yet. “It sounds like you should be on TV.”

When Vito laughs, it’s a beautiful sound.

He bounds to his feet with enough energy to rival Swan. “I’ll call the producers now. I never could get my own show but I can see the angle:the biker baker rides Route 66.”

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