That initial gut reaction, an intuition that gnaws at your stomach until you have no choice but to look at it head-on.
In five days we’re breaking into an insane asylum and forty-eight hours after that we’re attending the biggest party of the year.
Two heists with a risk factor so big I don’t even bother thinking about it.
I should be mapping out escape routes, building explosives and collecting the tools I need to break into a vault laced with bobby traps.
I should be thinking about the heists and nothing else.
But all I can think about is that bad fucking feeling.
Pooling in my gut like sewage water, stinking up the whole goddamn place until I face the concern that’s been growing on me.
There’s something wrong with Calista.
On the surface she seems fine. Her smile is always in place and her body is a luscious landscape of toned legs and a sweet pussy. There’s nothing about the woman that falls short of perfectly intact and yet I find myself growing more concerned with each passing day.
Because the fire that once burned so bright has started to fade.
It’s been a gradual process, one so subtle there’s no reason for me to have noticed. But like everything else with this woman, its clung to me, chased my thoughts and haunted my dreams until all I can think about is the life that’s been slowly draining from Calista’s eyes.
“Darling? Are you home?”
My voice rebounds off the cool surface of the mirrors strung up along the walls of her bedroom. I can see every piece of priceless silver dripping from the ceiling, chandeliers and light fixtures sparkling beneath the dim glow of her room.
“Calista?”
It’s been lonely, being forced to live on my own in a town that does its best to kill me. Maybe that’s why I find myself constantly seeking out the company of a woman who seems just as lonely as I am.
“Did I misinterpret your text?”
Talking to myself like an idiot, I wander through the door to the bathroom and take a look around.
“I was sure it said...”
The words dry up and I suddenly find myself with nothing left to say.
Blonde curls, coiled ringlets glide over a bare shoulder. Loose spaghetti straps fold gently against pale skin, the black tank top falling just shy of the top of her spandex shorts.
The lighting is lower in here, a soft hue that spills over the woman curled up in a dog bed. My stomach bottoms out as I stare at her, listening to the hushed whispers Calista leaves printed along Ronan’s dark fur.
His massive body is wrapped around her, cushioning her from the outside world as he listens to all she has to say. Dark eyes meet mine as I take a step closer, the sharp flick of his ears serving as a warning long before the growl rips from his mouth.
Stay away.
It doesn’t take a genius to read the warning look in his eyes. The feral protectiveness a person is lucky to feel once in their lifetime. It’s a connection forged through scars and broken promises, a cynical outlook on life that I am all too familiar with.
“Hey, darling.”
Tired, washed-out eyes slowly lift to meet mine. It’s tough to describe the pang racing through my chest, the tendrils of concern shaping into something far too tangible for my liking.
“Devil.”
She tries for a smile, and on anyone else it might have worked.
The coy tilt of her lips. The slight press of her tongue to her teeth.
Everything you would expect from a beautiful, ferocious woman but I’m lost in the weak coils of smoke hollowing out her eyes.
