Page 8 of Heroes & Hitmen
“Just got into town, actually,” I sigh, leaning back on my barstool and cracking my knuckles. “Have to report to the Alpha first thing tomorrow.”
“Lucky you,” she replies with a mirthless chuckle. “What’re you here for?”
It comes off as more of a demand than a question, and I’m not sure why that piques my interest. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl quite like this one, who has the audacity to interrogate me before I can even tell her my name.
“Fulfilling an old debt,” I shrug.
She cocks a brow. “In less cryptic terms?”
“I’m a sharpshooter, so I suppose I’ll be joining the pack enforcers.”
“You’re a hitman, then,” she deadpans, lip curling as she folds her arms over her chest.
“In layman’s terms, sure.”
“Just calling it like it is.”
“Is there something wrong with that line of work?” I ask, genuinely curious as to her stance.
She rolls her eyes, lifting her glass from the bar. “Not if killing doesn’t keep you from sleeping at night,” she scoffs, the swizzle straw pressing against her lips as she takes a sip of her drink.
“Nope,” I remark, popping the P. “I sleep like a baby, actually.”
“Charming,” she murmurs as she sets her glass back down with a hollow clink.
“Glad you noticed,” I reply, matching her sarcasm with a grin. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’m good, thanks,” she quips, nodding to her half-full glass.
“A shot, then?” I press.
She starts to say no, but her lips pause over the word. It hangs between us as hesitation flashes in her eyes.
Maybe she’s realized there’s no point in resisting. I’m nothing if not persistent, and this girl has me hooked by the way she can both tempt and challenge me in the same breath. She’s skeptical, clever, sharp-edged… basically my goddamn wet dream.
“Actually, sure,” she breathes, her prickly demeanor shifting on a dime. “Why not?” She sits up a little taller and tosses her hair over a shoulder, throwing up a hand to signal the bartender.
I grin like an idiot as she orders us a couple shots of top-shelf tequila, instructing the bartender to put them on my tab. The place is so busy that I’m sure it’ll take a while, but I don’t mind waiting when I’ve got company like…
Shit, I haven’t even gotten her name yet.
“I’m Ares,” I say, extending a hand toward her. “Ares Raines.”
She eyes my hand for a moment before reaching out to place her palm in mine, giving it a firm shake. “Miley Beckett.”
Sparks tingle between our skin, her mouthwatering scent of vanilla and freesia registering in my nose.Holy shit, I think I’m in love. My wolf surges to the surface, ready to stake a damn claim as two shot glasses land on the bar in front of us.
“Well, what should we toast to?” she asks casually, pulling her hand from mine and reaching out to pluck one of them up.
My eyes roam over her face, mind going blank as she looks at me expectantly.
Say something, dumbass…
“Uhh, to rattlesnakes and condoms,” I blurt, recalling a toast that my friend Avery recited once.
Miley arches a skeptical brow.
“Don’t fuck with either of them,” I finish, grinning as I swipe up the other shot and clink it against hers.
