Page 10 of Infected By Virus

Virus leaped over the back of the couch to be in her orbit. She smelled the same as he remembered, soft musk perfume and coconut shampoo. A smile crossed his lips unbidden.

It was really her. She was real, not a dream.

Virus reached up to brush a lock of hair from her face and stopped when she gasped so hard he felt the intake of air on his wrist. His hand froze and he followed her gaze. It had landed on his wrist and the bracelet she’d made him.

It was unclear if she was impressed or appalled, so he pulled his hand back and shoved it in his jean pocket.

For good measure, he did the same with the other one so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for her again. If he did manage to wrap her in his arms, he didn’t know what he’d do then. What he did know was he would never be able to let go.

“I like it … your hair, I mean.”

He sounded like an idiot. He’d broken her heart, and she finally stood in front of him after all that time, and he said something about her hair.

He should be apologizing and begging … groveling, not commenting on her fucking hair.

His ray of sunshine tilted her head to the side and down while tucking her hair behind her ear. It was a habit he recognized all too well.

It reminded him of how she used to react when he told her how stunning she was. The motion drew attention to a facial piercing she didn’t have before, above her lip. His Rae had changed, become more edgy and less innocent. He liked it … a lot.

“Yeah, well … it’s been a while and a lot of things have changed.” She raised her chin and looked around, then scrutinized him. Up and down, she raked him with her gaze, lingering on his cut, more specifically his patches. “For both of us, it seems.” She sounded matter of fact, not angry or judgmental. That was a good sign.

It was all he could do not to ask her what she was doing there and if there was a snowball’s chance in hell for them after everything. Instead, he offered her a seat and a drink.

Motioning with his fingers, a prospect brought a bottle and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table and leaving without another word. Fucker might get his patch soon after all. Knowing when to stay silent and make yourself scarce was a skill that would serve whatshisname well.

She accepted the seat but rejected the drink. He however, couldn’t. He was shaking like a virgin on prom night. Virus poured a full fucking glass and downed it all at once. One wasn’t enough, so he did the same thing two more times while Rae just sat watching him nervously and glancing around the clubhouse.

He could always tell exactly what she was feeling. She had the most expressive face known to man. If she didn’t like you, you’d damn sure know it.

That thought had him kicking himself. He should’ve known the shit he was told about her was bullshit, but no use rehashing past thoughts when Rae sat right in front of him.

“Rae.” He spoke her name softly, like an invocation.

“Alaine. You lost the right to call me …” Her discomfort was rising, he could hear it. She took a deep breath, drawing his gaze to her chest. He loved every inch of her body and with her sitting in front of him, he remembered what her skin tasted like, for fuck’s sake.

When she spoke again, all traces of her discomfort were suppressed.

“Sorry, what name you call me doesn’t matter. We have some very important things to discuss.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from some of the guys pretending to shoot pool and socialize. They must’ve snuck in behind Rae. Hell, the entire 1st Division could’ve followed her in and he wouldn’t have noticed—he only had eyes for her. He slammed another drink.

She was really fucking there.

Rae—he’d be damned if he’d think of her as Ailene—noticed too and turned in their direction. Santa gave her a knowing smile and that raised Virus’s hackles.

“Can we have a little privacy, Darrin?”

Her voice wavered faintly, and she looked slightly panicked. He didn’t have a clue what was going on until he made the connection in his brain between what Hook had said earlier and Santa.

He stood abruptly with his fist balled and shouted.

“You were hitting on my woman, old man?”

Rae slapped a folder down on the coffee table and stood across from him, blocking his view of a smirking Santa.

“I’m not your anything anymore.”

Her voice sliced his heart to ribbons.

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