I followed the soft sound of her coughing and the scent of cleaning chemicals toward the guest bathroom, my boots echoing against the hardwood. My dusty boots were making fresh work for her, dirtying what she’d scrubbed only yesterday.
She didn’t hear me coming, so I got to admire the view. Lucy was on her hands and knees, attacking the tile floor with a brush. Her pert ass was pushed into the air, wiggling back and forth as she scoured grout. The sight ignited something primal in me, a dark heat spreading through my chest. It was lust, longing, and maybe the barest taint of guilt.
Her silver-white hair was piled messily atop her head, exposing the delicate nape of her neck. The oversized t-shirt she wore—one of mine, I realized with a jolt—slipped off one shoulder, revealing pale skin mapped with violet veins beneath. As I watched, she coughed hard, muffling the sound with one hand.
Fuck, why did that bother me so much?
The Eros people who brought her said there was an inhaler or something in the medical bag. We hadn’t cleaned the extinguishing foam from it yet or opened it to see if the contents were ruined. Should we replace those things? Would Lucy get sick if we didn’t?
I gave myself a mental shake. We wanted her miserable and sick. We wanted her to leave and never come back.
"You missed a spot," I taunted, leaning against the doorframe.
“I’m not finished yet,” she snapped, not turning around.
I chuckled, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned into the doorframe. She had no idea that there was a direct correlation between her trying to be fierce and me pushing her buttons. It was fun to have someone new to mess with; my brothers had long ago wised-up. I was only ever able to get one of them riled up if they were already looking for a fight. That was why I had to take it to extremes sometimes—like puncturing Xander’s bike tire.
Lucy was still scrubbing, worrying one section of tile to the point I thought she might erase it completely.
"You’ll never finish that way,” I said casually. She pointedly ignored me. Time for a little button pushing. “By all means though, take all day. The view’s giving me a hard-on.”
She froze, body tensing, but she still didn’t look at me—which was a shame, because I would’ve loved to see the fury blaze in those green eyes of hers.
“Maybe I can help,” I offered, taking two heavy steps, boots thudding against the floor.
Now she did spin around, shoulder nearly slamming into the toilet. “Leave me alone, Nitro. I’m playing housemaid, just like you guys wanted.”
“Afraid I can’t leave you alone, Lucy-Loo, because—” I squatted, gaze locking with hers. Not breaking eye contact, I pulled one of my throwing blades free from its holster sheath. “I need an assistant,” I continued, twirling the knife.
A spark shot through me when her eyes darted down and then back up, fear washing over her face. My lips curled into a smirk, relishing the moment.
“I’m a maid,” she said in a low, raspy voice, “not an assistant.”
Resting my forearms against my thighs, I leaned closer. I held the blade loosely now, fingers barely curled around the hilt, the tip pointed in Lucy’s direction.
“Lucy,” I said her name slowly, infusing it with heat, “you’re whatever we say you are, whenever we say it.”
Standing to tower over her, I held out my free hand. Her gaze once again flicked to the knife and then back up. Her golden green smashed into my hazel and, together, I almost thought we could make an entire damn world. Land. Water. Everything in between.What the fuck am I even thinking?I mentally snarled at myself.
“Take my hand, Lucy,” I commanded, my tone daring her to refuse.
The tension between us grew almost visibly thick. I could see the thoughts flitting through her mind; they were plain as day on her face. From the second I saw her, I knew Lucy wasn’t the kind of person who could hide her real feelings. That kind of raw, unintentional honesty always did it for me. People who couldn’t lie without looking away. People who couldn’t cheat atcards because of their obvious tell. People who were forced to live authentically, simply because they either never learned an alternative, or it wasn’t in their DNA.
In that second, standing over her, staring down at her pale face and purple-veined skin, I found myself caught somewhere between wanting to crush her spirit and dying to claim it. But I wouldn't let her see that. Not now, not fucking ever.
“Take my hand, Lucy,” I repeated, the words carrying a final warning.
She glared once more at the knife, then, as she tilted her head back up, she seemed to steal herself. “You think I’m afraid of you? Afraid of that knife?” Lucy spat each, acid-laced word out.
I watched every detail of her body as she reached up to grab the sink’s edge. She used it to hoist herself up, then she stepped forward, lifting her hand and shoving a finger into my chest. In any other situation, I’d have thrown a punch. Yet, right now, the thought didn’t even cross my mind. Instead, I stared at the hard line of her mouth and the crinkle between her eyebrows as she scowled, and I realized—this woman is fucking gorgeous.
Lucy’s Omega scent heavily perfumed the air, the sunshine base notes marred with a spicy edge.
“Not long ago—” she lifted her finger, then poked it hard into my body again— “my life was needles and drugs and horrible side effects. Do you know how many doctors have sliced and diced me? Do you know how many times I’ve flatlined?” Her cheeks had pinked, and her eyes were red-rimmed, making her green irises shift to shining emeralds. “I’ve actually died, Nitro.Died.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath, blinking rapidly as if to fight back tears. Again, she lifted and slammed down her fingertip. The same spot, perfect aim.
“So, you and your pack can keep treating me like shit. You can toss a knife at my head. You can burn me in my sleep again.But that’s not going to run me off. You can’t scare me enough with death. Death is easy. Living is what’s hard.”
