Page 101 of Fanged Embrace
And now River was caught in the crossfire.
49
River
By the time I made it home that night my mood had plummeted, and I had to make sure to fix my expression into something that wasn’t a grimace before I stepped through the front door.
The recon mission had been a useless, pointless slog through empty buildings and abandoned shell companies. Nothing but bare corridors and vacant rooms—and a goddamn tripwire that nearly cost Dylan her foot. It was like the organization had doubled their defenses overnight. They knew we were coming and they cleared out before we arrived. They left just enough evidence to prove they had been there, but not enough clues to guide us further in our search.
They were toying with us, flaunting their ability to always be one step ahead.
The other teams had similarly poor luck with their missions, and the meeting afterwards had been full of disappointed faces and tense shoulders. Jordan barely kept her temper; Hunter didn’t even bother trying. We all partedways more despondent and downtrodden than when we’d started.
Exhaustion had settled deep in my bones, and I dragged my feet through the hallways with a sigh, looking around for Laurie. The house was silent save for the low hiss and crackle of the fireplace in the living room. I shrugged off my coat and followed that ember glow that spilled from the doorway down the hall.
Through that door, I found her.
She was perched on the edge of the sofa, bundled up in a blanket. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, vacant gaze fixed on the spitting flames. Shadows flickered across her face, highlighting the sharp slope of her cheekbone. She looked like she’d been carved from stone, one of the many statues littered around the house.
She didn’t move when I slipped through the doorway, didn’t turn her head from the flames. She didn’t seem to notice me at all—not until I crossed the carpet and settled down beside her. Then she jumped, startled, fire reflected in wide, wild eyes.
“Sorry,” I whispered with a grimace, easing into the dip of the sofa cushions. “You all right?”
Laurie blinked the glazed look from her eyes, and her breath came rushing out in a shaky gust. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “Just… jumpy.”
Despite that grumbled sentiment, she leaned into me and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling the blanket up so it cocooned us both. For a long while we simply sat there, the fireplace snapping softly, warmth licking over our faces.
Then Laurie asked, barely audible above the crackle, “How did it go?”
I let my head tip back against the sofa and sighed. “Not very well.” My fingers toyed with her hair while I gave her the short version of the story.
Laurie didn’t look as upset as I expected. She didn’t look atall surprised to hear the mission was a complete failure. She simply shrugged and tunneled her way through my hair, burying her face in my neck. I felt her deep sigh against my throat.
“We’ll try again,” I said, trying for confidence and failing dramatically. It came out like defeat. “We won’t stop just because they want to play chicken.”
“Sure,” she murmured, but through my curls I watched her gaze drift back to the flames, pupils reflecting stark orange and white. Something about the quiet way she said it made me search her profile. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips turned down in a tired curve. Those glassy eyes were unfocused, like she was still a million miles away.
I smoothed a stray cut of hair behind her ear. “Hey. You sure you’re okay?”
She hesitated, then nodded—small, ambiguous. I felt the unease in her aura, something more than simple disappointment. But for once, it seemed, her mind was closed to me. I could barely glean what she was feeling. There was no storm surrounding her, no agitation spiking her aura but still… something was wrong.
I scraped my brain for something that might have upset her. Maybe it was the mention of dating earlier? I did kinda drop that bomb without really intending to. The words just slipped out before I could really consider what I was saying. I played it cool at the time but… maybe that was the wrong way to handle it.
“Uh, listen.” I shifted beside her and reached for her chin, tilting her head up to meet my gaze. “About what I said earlier, about us dating? You don’t actually have to give me an answer. That was just a joke—well, a flirt really. I got a bit carried away.”
Laurie’s brow furrowed further like she wasn’t sure what the hell I was going on about and I wondered if maybe that was astupid thing to bring up. But I’d already begun so I may as well see it through.
I blew out a breath, skimming a palm down her cheek. “I mean, I’m happy with how things are now. We don’t need to put a label on it if you don’t want to.”
Laurie blinked, like she’d lost the thread for a second, then let out a small, breathy laugh. It didn’t sound happy. “River, don’t worry about that.” The giggle faded, leaving her expression softer, but lined with sadness.
She stared into the fire for a beat before speaking again. “I’m… happy with us. Happier than I ever figured I could be. I just…” Her voice cracked. “I wish it could last.”
Every muscle in my shoulders went taut, but I held my tongue, let her finish.
“You’ve done so much for me. So much more than I deserve—than I ever knew I needed.” She shifted, resting on her knees on the sofa so she could meet me eye-to-eye. The blanket slipped from her shoulders. Embers cast amber flickers across her choppy hair, like her head was set ablaze.
I waited, silent as the grave, as she held my gaze.
