Seconds passed in what felt like minutes. My head hung heavy, the arm anchored to the wall strained. She’d opened up for me on the beach—only for me—and goddamn if that wasn’t the most addicting drug.
Because, for a moment, I felt something.
I took a deep breath, a deadly truth passing through my thoughts.
This dark, vicious need is growing beyond something I can control.
I stuffed myself back into my jeans, prepared to toss the panties when I got back, when that same need curled in my gut. I placed them on top of her neatly organized ones. Messy. Fucked up with me.
Then left.
FIFTEEN
GRIM
The sun had risen into morning when I got back to the Wharf. I immediately clocked something was amiss. A sleek black Rolls-Royce was in the middle of the regularly empty parking lot. The driver inside didn’t turn to look as I walked past him.
Whatever high I had from seeing Gemma vanished.
The club was quiet with daytime. I already knew who would be waiting before I saw his back, salt-and-pepper hair illuminated under the bright overhead lights. My three brothers stood in front of him, arms folded. Upon hearing the door open, their eyes lifted over his head, to me.
“Why the fuck are you here?” I said.
He turned around, a smile spearing his lips that didn’t meet his eyes. “The man of the hour.”
I shared another look with my brothers. It was the second time in less than a month Vander Archeron had paidus a visit. The most he showed up was once every six months, if that.
Unmarked, unclaimed, not off limits.
He left that night without another word, so I never found out why he was talking to Gemma Crowne. What he wanted.
“What the fuck do you want?” I repeated.
He rubbed the side of his neck. “Just checking in.”
I bit my molars, jaw tweaking. “Checking in.”
He smiled, and this time it did reach his eyes. “You any closer to closing the Crowne girl’s contract?”
I shifted. “I’ll close it when I close it.”
He laughed, reaching inside the breast of his jacket. “Sure you’re not getting business mixed with pleasure?”
He pulled out a small, square photograph. It appeared to be taken far away, probably with a drone, but what you could see was clear: me with Gemma Crowne, on the beach yesterday.
Closer than we should be.
Shit.
Tension buzzed in the room. Lock pushed his tongue into the back of his teeth, and Raze clenched his jaw, nostrils flared. Wraith…well, he didn’t seem mad or surprised, but it was impossible to know for sure with him.
“I was checking in on a contract,” I said, voice even. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
Silence settled, then he shoved the photo back into his pocket. “Sure. How is everyone else doing? Your sister—Sabrina, right? She’s doing good?”
Something unhinged fell across Lock’s features. He took a step forward when Raze grabbed his elbow.
Vander laughed again. “I’ve given you five years to figure this out. Might be about time I choosefor you.”
