And just like that, my heart cracked wide open. I gathered her into my arms, holding her against me, my face buried in her hair. That musky, sweet scent,herscent, flooded my senses.
Everything in me stilled. Everything except my mate bond, which still stretched between us. Reaching. Waiting.
Hers was still behind the door, but it wasn’t locked up tight anymore. She was slowly unlatching it. We were getting closer, but I wouldn’t rush her.
I’d wait for as long as it took because she was my moon and my stars. My angel and my devil. My wild, untamed mate.
She was the only one I’d ever need, and for now, this was enough.
* Hell of a Good Time by Hayden Henderson
30
ANIYAH
Aknock rapped against the metal container, followed by Alic’s voice. “Van says the clean-up’ll be done tonight. He thinks you should start planning the new opening ASAP.”
Maso tightened his grip on me, growling deep in his throat, but Alic was right. I couldn’t just lie here basking in post-fuck bliss, soaked in blood like it was some kind of spa treatment. I had a club to resurrect. Siblings to wrangle. A name to maintain.
This little hiccup with my only lead? Just that, a bump in the damn road. I couldn’t let it drag me down. I needed to focus on what I could fix, not waste time on what was out of my hands. And a vow of silence was definitely out of my hands.
Needing to come back to reality, I groaned before tapping Maso’s arm. He released me with a reluctant whine, but I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and sat up. Playtime was officially over.
One glance down and, yep, my bodysuit was toast. Blood everywhere, lace torn in places it really shouldn’t be, and totop it off, I was basically glowing with that freshly ruined look. That was when I remembered my jacket was tossed somewhere nearby. I stood, stripped off the remains of the bodysuit, and slipped the jacket on, going full commando. Buttoning it up as far as it would go did nothing for my modesty. My tits were still on proud display, nipples barely hidden.
I shrugged. I could always call it a fashion choice, and nobody in my world would blink.
The black fabric did a decent job hiding the blood, but my skin and hair were another story. With crimson streaks and smears everywhere, I looked like I’d been finger-painted by a murderer.
Arms wrapped around me from behind, and that gravel-soft voice brushed my ear. “Does this mean I get boyfriend status, too?”
I rolled my eyes but leaned back into him, letting the warmth of his body settle over me like a soft blanket.
“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, not with this group.” They were all sniffing around for a title, and the last thing I needed was infighting before the grand reopening.
“Then just make all five of us your boyfriends.”
He said it so casually as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
I turned in his arms and kissed his lips, a mere peck, even though I could feel him craving more. “Don’t you get jealous? Angry? With how I’m feeling right now, I’d gouge out a woman's eyes if she looked at you sideways.”
His smirk deepened. He loosened his hold just enough for us to face each other fully.
“Jealous? Yeah, but it’s not simple. I’m jealous of the time they get with you because I want that time, too. I want all of you. All the time. But more than that… I want you to be happy. Whole.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead with the kind of reverence that made my chest ache.
“If it’s some random guy, yeah, I see red. But with the others? It’s a softer kind of jealousy. It’s not rip-their-heads-off rage. It’s more like... my wolf wants to tackle them away from you and claim his spot.”
He paused, searching my face like he was bracing for me to pull away. His hand brushed against the tattoo on my lower back, the one that heated up under his touch.
“You know why we feel this way. Why weallfeel this way. You just have to accept it.”
I pulled back slightly, tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek, and his smile dimmed as he let me go.
“I—I still?—”
He yanked me forward and kissed me again, this time slower, softer. His kiss silenced me, scattering all my half-formed words into the wind. His voice was low as he rested his head on mine, whispering like he was pulling the words out.
