Page 41 of Heroes & Hitmen
I lean forward to nuzzle into the curve of her neck, trailing my nose just beneath her ear. “Gotta make it convincing,” I murmur against her skin.
I feel her pulse jump.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak– just stands there stiffly as I run a hand through her hair, letting the silky strands slip between my fingers. Then I gently spin her around, hooking my chin over her shoulder from behind and banding an arm around her waist. Her head drops back against my chest, back arching, and I know she feels it too– this thing humming between us like a live wire, the sparks blooming everywhere our skin is in contact.
She starts to relax against me, but the second she realizes it, she jerks away.
“There,” she declares as she spins to face me again, a little breathless. “We done?”
I lick my lips, grinning in satisfaction. “Not even close, but that should do for now.”
She frowns, backing away. “Still insufferable.”
“And yet you’re stuck with me,” I say smugly. “Better get used to it, sweetheart.”
She lets out something between a growl and a groan, turning on a heel and strutting away down the hall. I card my fingers through my hair as I watch her retreat to the bedroom, a smile still on my lips.
Miley may act like she wants nothing to do with me, but I saw the way her wolf looked at mine.
And wolves never lie.
CHAPTER 14
Miley
When it feelslike things are falling apart around me, I tend to grasp for something I can control. Right now, that’s this space– an apartment that’s twice the size of my old one, but somehow still feels claustrophobic.
I’ve been moving nonstop since Ares left this morning, unpacking boxes and carefully arranging everything in an effort to keep my hands busy and mind distracted. The boring, lifeless art that hung on the walls is gone, swapped out for my classic prints of Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn. My books now fill the shelves bracketing the TV, my blush pink throw pillows softening the harsh lines of the designer couch across from it. Organization is my armor. Keep busy, keep control.
Except I’ve finished unpacking my things and moved on to Ares’, and every shirt I fold feels like a trap I didn’t see coming.
They smell like him. Woodsy, a little smoky, clean and masculine.Downright addictive.It’s ridiculous how much that scent messes with my head as I meticulously line the dresser drawer with his clothes, ensuring everything has a place. My life may be a mess, but at least I can make my environment neat and tidy.
I’m so in the zone that a sudden sharp knock at the front door makes me jump, my heart leaping into my throat. Because when you’re living on borrowed time, surprisesaren’tfun.
As I speed-walk from the bedroom, a thousand worst-case scenarios stampede through my brain– how Ares’ meeting with my father could’ve gone wrong, how Alpha could’ve already sniffedout our lie– but when I open the door, the grim reaper isn’t waiting on the other side. Instead, I’m greeted by four familiar faces, my sisters eagerly crowding around the doorway, buzzing with excitement.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask breathlessly, blinking back at them.
“We came to congratulate you!” Blake chirps, surging forward and practically tackling me with a hug.
I can’t help but giggle as I squeeze her back, relief crashing through me.
“You smell different,” she remarks as she pulls away from the embrace, wrinkling her freckled nose. “Like a boy.”
My cheeks heat, an embarrassed flush crawling up my neck. The way Ares made me rub up against him this morning has me cringing every time I think about it. It shouldn’t have affected me the way it did– him touching me through my clothes, nuzzling into my neck. Those simple gestures should’ve been harmless, but it seems everything about Ares Raines is hazardous to my health.
“Of course she smells like him,” Charlie snorts, bulldozing her way inside behind Blake and giving me a knowing smirk. “They’ve probably beenbondingall night.”
I make a strangled sound. “Jesus, Charlie.”
“What?” she laughs, looking past me to scan the apartment like she’s hunting for proof of sin. “Is he here?”
“No, just me.”
Her face falls in momentary disappointment, but her mood rebounds instantly when she refocuses on me, beaming a smile and holding up a paper bag. “Well, we come bearing gifts!”
I zero in on the logo for the candy shop in Watertower Place and instantly start salivating, making grabby hands for the bag. She passes it over and I quickly move aside, waving for the others to come in.
