“He’ll have to go through me.”I shrug on my leather jacket and head out the door.“In the meantime, double up on Frankie’s security.”
“Already done.”
He follows me back to the main house, and I dash into the kitchen, stuffing two apples and a handful of granola bars into my pockets.
Frankie stands at the island, coffee mug in one hand and phone in the other.Dressed in her scrubs with her fiery red hair tied back in a high ponytail, she looks like she’s ready to tackle the world.Or stitch up its wounds.
She glances up, eyebrows raised in question.Then her gaze flicks to Leo behind me.“Why are you wet?”
“Why aren’t you?”Grinning like a berserker, he crosses the kitchen in two long strides, lifts her off her feet, and smashes her against his soaked clothes.
With a shriek, she pounds her fists against his back, which only encourages him to grind her face into his wet shirt.
Ah, yes.Nothing saysI love youlike waterboarding your soul mate before breakfast.
I leave them to their foreplay and sprint out the door toward the dock.
The scent of damp earth and brine awakens my lungs as I hurry down the winding path.A thin veil of fog drapes over the water, evaporating slowly as the morning sun climbs higher.
And there she is, standing boldly against the backdrop of a glittering sea and hazy mountains.
Dove’s silhouette is fragile yet fiercely resilient.The kind of fragile that fools people right before she punches them in the throat.
She’s built like poetry and barbed wire.Delicate enough to catch the light.Sharp enough to leave me bleeding.
But Leo wasn’t exaggerating.
Her hair is no longer blonde.Bright electric blue strands shine vividly in the sunlight, twisted into two messy buns atop her head.
Nowthatis a choice.
One I wholeheartedly approve.
She notices me, her gaze defiant and challenging.Same unforgettable expression I remember.Except now her face is adorned with metal.Septum, lip, and eyebrow piercings, and numerous studs line her ears.
Yesterday, she was every bit the traditional princess in her white wedding gown.
Today, she radiates a delicious, sexy-as-fuck, cyberpunk superpower.Bold.Untouchable.Rare.The sort of rare that doesn’t want to be kept.
Makes me want to keep her even more.
My pulse quickens.My skin heats, and my boxers feel too damn tight.
I pause longer than necessary, drinking in how the sunlight kisses her cheeks, how the breeze teases the blue strands that frame her face.
She wears an oversized bomber jacket with a patch that says NO GODS NO MASTERS.The crop top underneath is printed with an anatomical heart made of gears and wires.Her high-waisted cargo pants cinch at the ankles with buckles, and green neon cords lace her combat boots.
Hot.Every single inch of her.
She touches her chin to her shoulder, watching me with a death glare.Then she turns away.
Playing hard to get.I’m down.
I approach carefully, curiosity burning.“When did you decide to join the rebellion?”
She ignores me, her gaze directed stubbornly out at sea.
“Don’t leave me hanging.”I sidestep into her line of vision, tipping my head.“That blue?That glare?You’re either going to break my heart or my nose.Either way, I’m here for it.”
