Page 44 of Heroes & Hitmen
Blake nudges me with a foot. “C’mon, Miley, you’ve gotta give ussomething. What’s prince charming like? Is he sweet? Bossy? Does he growl when he kisses you?”
I chuckle under my breath while Jordan just watches me, sharp and unreadable. Like she already knows the truth–or at least suspects things aren’t truly as rosy as they seem.
“Sweet, sometimes,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Bossy, definitely. He’s cocky as hell, completely full of himself, but he’s also… strangely charming. And annoying, but there’s just something about him that pulls you in and doesn’t let go. He’s the kind of guy you don’t want to like, but you can’t help it.”
“Aww!” Blake melts instantly, hands clasped like she’s in a damn rom-com.
I snap my mouth closed, a blush rising to my cheeks at the realization of how honest that answer was.
Charlie leans back against the sofa cushions, tucking an arm behind her head. “Well, I’m officially jealous,” she sighs dreamily.
“Me too,” Blake agrees.
I force a smile and toss another gummy bear into my mouth, chewing like it’s a lifeline as my mind spins out of control.
Congratulations, Miley.
You’ve lied to your sisters, defied your Alpha, and moved in with a guy who’s either your best shot at survival or the final nail in your coffin.
Hell of a fairytale.
CHAPTER 15
Ares
Every time I’m here,I feel like a kid who’s been called into the principal’s office.
Alpha Gage is seated behind his desk, posture stiff and militaristic, salt-and-pepper beard freshly trimmed. The suit he’s wearing probably cost more than my truck, dark and impeccably tailored to fit his broad frame. Much like his daughter, the man is always perfectly put together, always carefully composed. He’s honed his image, his power structure, his control over this city.
I’m the wildcard he never saw coming.
His gunmetal gaze is sharp and assessing, fixed squarely on me as I take a seat across from him.
“Appreciate your punctuality,” he says flatly, skipping right past greetings and pleasantries.
I lean back with an easy grin, kicking up an ankle to rest on my opposite knee. “Happy to oblige.”
His glare intensifies, the muscle in his jaw flexing with irritation. I’m obviously not winning any points with him right now, but if I came in here all polite and pandering, he’d for sure know something’s up. I don’t need him to like me, I just need him to believe the ruse.
“I’ll get straight to it,” he murmurs, setting his tablet aside and steepling his fingers. “The press release about your fated bond went out to the pack this morning, and reception has been overwhelmingly positive. We typically hold mating ceremonies on aquarterly basis, but given the circumstances, this situation calls for an exception.”
Right.The circumstances being that once a fated bond snaps in, it must be sealed by the next full moon to stick. If the next full moon comes and goes without the bond being sealed, fate will rip it away.
“We’ll be hosting a special ceremony so the pack can witness the sealing of your fated bond,” he continues. “Obviously, not everyone will be able to attend the actual ceremony given the size of our pack, so we’ll also be hosting a gala the evening before for everyone to celebrate. Planning is already underway, so there’s just the matter of scheduling your extraction procedure…”
I tilt my head like I misheard. “Extraction?”
Gage sits back in his chair, folding his arms. “Our scientists have developed a technique to extract the mating serum so bonds can be sealed with a simple injection. It’s far cleaner and more efficient than the traditional bite. Also eliminates the unpredictability of animal instincts.”
Unpredictability. That’s a creative way to dance around the concept of consent.
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” I say, lowering my foot to the floor and sitting up a little straighter. “With all due respect, that may be how you do things here, but where I come from, mate bonds are sacred. They’re sealed with a bite, not a syringe.”
His nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”
I hold his gaze unflinchingly, just like the first time I met him in this office. He didn’t intimidate me then, and he doesn’t now. “Back home, a mate bond isn’t something you synthesize in a lab,” I say, upper lip curling in disgust. “It’s earned. Felt. Fought for.”
His jaw tightens; another crack in his polished façade. “This isn’t up for debate,” he replies. He doesn’t raise his voice, but I swear the temperature in the room drops five degrees.
