Page 22 of Depraved
I press my palm against my eyes and fight against tears that are as hot as the stream pounding against my back. No. No crying. I have no reason to cry when others actually lost someone in that blast. I blow out a breath and pivot, turning off the water. I force myself to dry off and think about my next steps.
Maybe I’m worrying and wallowing because I have too much free time. I should try and keep busy. I debate whether or not I want to go back to college classes as I make my way into the closet in my attic space and search for clothes that don’t look either whorish or far too professional for how I’m feeling. Matthew might be great at many things but as a stylist … I’m not loving my choices. Where’s simple black?
The idea of school teeter-totters inside my head. I don’t know if I could make up for the time I’ve missed so far or if this semester is a goner. But if not classes, then what?
I grab a long-sleeved shirt with a cowl neck that looks a little bit mom-ish for my tastes but it’s better than the low-cut tank top with hanging chains instead of a back that’s next to it. I swear, I thought I picked out most of my clothes with Matthew, but I don’t recognize half of the stuff in here.
I toss it on and pair it with tight black pants and boots. I’m debating blow-drying my hair or tossing it up in a bun and leaving it wet when Black walks in. His nearly seven-foot height means he immediately dominates the sloped wooden walls of my attic space. He’s wearing a suit, the same formal navy one he’s worn the past several days. I debate asking if he’s trying to imitate a cartoon character or if he just hasn’t showered. But I don’t because I kind of like the half-unbuttoned formal shirt and jacket look he’s got going. Especially when he wears those dark brown curls of his down so that they sweep his shoulders.
His eyes shoot straight past the sex swing he had installed up in the attic. They land on me, and he lets out a soft purr of approval.
Annoyingly, that sound makes my worries melt and drip away.
Inside my head, Fluffy imagines nuzzling his wolf’s neck. I clench my teeth stubbornly, because the amount of power he has over my body still sets me on edge. It’s not right—but it is.
He moves closer and that purr vibrates through the air, shaking my fears loose like moths. They flutter up and my hands drift in front of me, worried they’re going to expose all the holes they’ve chewed in my self-worth.
His hand comes to my cheek, and I lean into it. He’s warm. After my run and my shower, that should be a turnoff. But it’s not. Somehow, it’s comforting, even the rough callouses at the base of his fingers feel good and not abrasive.
Fluffy nudges me to skim his inner wrist with my nose and pick up more of his delicious caramel and woodsmoke scent. I do, sliding the tip of my nose along his massive veins, over a forearm so big that I could kiss it with my lips if I just puckered them.
Goddess.
He drives me insane.
But then he grounds me.
I don’t understand it at all.
When I finally pull back from his arm and face him, I find myself calmer and able to steadily meet his gaze.
Instead of the hint of a smug smile that I expect to find haunting his lips, he looks worried. “I need you to come with me.” Black’s tone is serious. There’s a sense of expectancy in his posture, as if he’s waiting for me to argue with him.
The bit of calm I just had evaporates and I take a step back.
“Where?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest. I probably look defiant, but I’m feeling vulnerable because this man doesn’t fret. So why is the alpha of the entire Lobos pack looking at me this way?
“To the southern annex.”
“Into the belly of the beast?” I blink rapidly, taken aback by his statement. Thomas Stone almost killed us three days ago, and Black wants to go marching right into the heart of that bastard’s supporters? How the fuck does that make any sense? Is it an alpha thing or a male thing to be so utterly convinced of your own invincibility that you do something so stupid?
“That sounds like a really bad idea,” I hedge, not wanting to outright deny him and jump immediately into an argument. Because he was sweet and tender the other night, and again just now, and I’m still trying to reconcile that fact with everything else that I know about him. So I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt here. But this idea sounds boneheaded, to put it mildly.
Black’s jaw twitches and his eyes close for a second as if he’s gathering patience. As ifI’munreasonable.
“It’s not your place to question me. I need you to come with me. I can turn it into an order if you like.” Black’s tone deepens and his threat is not lost on me.
Oh, that gets to me. I’m furious but also smart enough to try to hide it. Goddess knows, he could throw an alpha command my way and my wolf will crawl through broken glass if he asks. In fact, the avatar version of Fluffy pops up in front of me and rolls over on her back exposing her belly for him.
He hasn’t even given you a good reason. Get back on your feet,I scold her.
Instead of listening, she simply remembers the sound of his purr, making my skull vibrate.
Dammit. I don’t need her distracting or trying to coerce me to follow Black because her instincts tell her to.Go away,I tell her.
She doesn’t disappear like she has before—she’s left me hanging several times by just fading to nothing when I need her—but at least she quiets down now.
There’s a long-drawn-out silence in which Black tries to get me to submit with his smoldering gaze. While that look does many things to me, it doesn’t erase my greatest concern right now. My mate is too vulnerable for this. “I don’t think Jonah is ready for travel—”
