Page 6 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
By dawn, I’d been shaking so violently they’d called a medic, convinced I was having seizures. The wolf had retreated, exhausted and broken, leaving me feeling like a stranger in my own skin for weeks afterwards.
All because Theodore Maxwell didn’t step in and save me.
Yes, it was entirely his fault, and nothing to do with your own actions, a snide voice whispered.
My chest felt tight, a toxic mix of anger and self-hatred filling my lungs with lead.
I jammed in the code for the bookcase’s release mechanism harder than necessary. Time to face the music. And by music, I meant the world’s most irritating telepath.
Every single member of Killigrew Street lounged around on the sofas, their heads swivelling toward me like I’d just tap-danced through the door wearing nothing but a feather boa. Kit’s expression was particularly thunderous, but then, that was pretty much my older brother’s default.
The weight of their stares pressed against my skin like itchy wool.
“What?” I snapped, shoving my hands into my pockets.
Seb crossed his arms over his chest. His burgundy tailored trousers looked crisp despite having just flown from Dublin. “That’s not quite the greeting I expected after cutting our holiday short to return at your rather insistent request.”
Flynn hovered next to him, offering me an apologetic grimace. His beach-tousled hair and slight sunburn made it clear exactly what kind of holiday I’d interrupted.
Guilt gnawed at my insides. Flynn had spent months trying to convince Seb to take a break—leaving travel brochures about Ireland onhis desk, enlisting Kit’s help to clear Seb’s schedule. The amount of puppy-dog eyes Flynn had deployed could’ve filled an animal shelter.
And now here they were, back early all because I rang them screaming about how I was sure my ex-boyfriend had been murdered.
They stood so close their shoulders touched. Flynn’s hand rested on the small of Seb’s back, and the vampire actually leaned into the touch. It was nauseating, really. I’d never get over how bizarre it was seeing Seb so happy all the time. Well, as happy as someone who’d spent five centuries perfecting his resting bitch face could look.
I’d worked at Killigrew Street for years, and in all that time, Seb had been allergic to sunshine, joy, and my jokes. But now? One look from Flynn and he melted faster than ice cream. Their domesticity was enough to give me cavities. And no, I wasn’t jealous. Not one bit.
“Fair point, boss,” I said, because it was.
Priya, still bundled up in her favourite purple scarf in May, was the only one who seemed genuinely happy to see me, beaming as she budged up on the sofa, pressing herself into a scowling Felix.
Just as I sat down, something small and grey dropped from the ceiling with a soft thud, landing directly in my lap. Freddy, my zombie ferret, chittered excitedly, his eerie yellow eyes glowing in the dim light of the room. Patches of bone showed through his matted fur as he twisted around, sniffing the air.
“There you are, you little monster,” I murmured, scratching behind what remained of his ear. Freddy responded by nipping affectionately at my fingers, his yellowed teeth catching the light.
He’d been dead for a month before Issac had used necromancy to bring him back as a prank. Not everyone appreciated his particular brand of undead charm, but Freddy was the most loyal pet a wolf could ask for—even if he did have a habit of stealing food and occasionally shedding entire clumps of fur.
“Where is he?” I whispered to Priya as I stroked Freddy’s tail.
“He stepped into Felix’s lair to make a call. Ah—” She elbowed me. “Here he comes.Be nice.”
Detective Theodore Maxwell emerged from Felix’s cupboard like he owned the place, his expensive shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. The sight of him in that charcoal suit made me grind my teeth together.
Fuck, why did the dickhead have to be so goddamn attractive? Six foot tall, with those broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his jacket, that strong jawline with just the right amount of stubble, and his thighs—they were exactly the kind I’d love to climb if I didn’t want to punch him so badly. Even the way his coils were perfectly faded at the sides looked like he’d just stepped from a barber’s chair rather than a crime scene.
His steps faltered when he saw me. Just a tiny hesitation, but I caught it. Our eyes met across the room, and his expression darkened into a frown that made his glasses slip down his nose. I frowned back at him… or had I frowned first? Whatever, there was serious frowning involved.
His gaze dropped to Freddy, who was now sprawled across my lap, and his frown deepened into outright disgust. Not that I could blame him entirely—the last time Maxwell had visited, Freddy had pissed on his expensive leather shoes. I considered it one of Freddy’s finest moments.
I stroked Freddy’s back protectively, drawing comfort from his cold little body.
The tension in the room cranked up several notches. Everyone held their breath, probably waiting for me to call him Detective Dickface to his face… for the hundredth time.
But I was being mature today. Super mature. The most mature wolf who ever matured.
Hey, asshole. Get out of my head,I thought as loudly as possible, just in case he was listening in. He usually was, because he had zero respect for privacy or personal boundaries.I know you’re probably reading my thoughts right now, like the creepy telepathic dickhead you are.
His left hand twitched toward his temple—his tell—before he caught himself and lowered it.Ha.Caughtyou, you nosy bastard.
