“No.” I kept my voice low, careful not to wake her. “But I think she’s ready.”
They exchanged a look. I could read the questions in their eyes. The hope, the fear.
“We need her to be ready,” Lucian said quietly.
Solomon stepped forward. His hand went to his pocket, and he pulled out a photograph.
“We found this in our locker at the station.”
He held it out. I took it carefully, angling it toward the moonlight.
Mira.Standing in the firehouse, a casserole dish in her hands. The photo had been taken from outside, through a window. She was laughing, completely unaware she was being watched.
I turned it over.
Red ink. Two words. Handwriting I didn’t recognize but a threat I understood perfectly.
“I’m watching.”
My blood went cold.
11
— • —
Mira
I am in so much trouble right now.
I woke up in Percy’s bed, still wearing his jacket, buried in his sheets, and the first thought that formed in my stupid, traitorous brain was:What the hell was I thinking?
No, actually, scratch that. Iwasn’tthinking. Not even a little bit. My brain had clocked out somewhere around the third kiss and left my body to run the show, and my body apparently had impulse control issues.
I was supposed to be investigating these men, not making out with one of them in the heat of the moment. I thought I could squeeze information out of Percy and well, technically, I did manage that. Just went a bit overboard with what I ended up getting from him.
God, I’d make such a lousy spy or assassin and get myself killed in the first five minutes of the movie. Also, I guess I can’t chastise the movie slop we watch now.
I kicked the covers off and sat up, pressing my palms into my face. The sheets still smelled of brown sugar and autumn leaves, and my body wanted to curl back into them and pretend the outside world didn’t exist. But my mind was finally doing what it should have done last night instead of grinding on a tattooed firefighter.
Gold eyes.That was the part I couldn’t explain away with hormones and bad decisions.
Then came the other connecting dots. The impossible strength, bodies that ran too warm. An ancient language that matched nothing in any database. The carved wolf crest, the visions, and my lost memories.
I couldn’t come up with a solid theory. My mind is a mess.
Ugh. Those stupid tattoos. Those stupid, gorgeous, infuriating...
The bedroom door swung open.
Here goes the prime suspect of my current mental breakdown.
Percy walked in humming, chestnut hair damp at the temples from a morning jog. His cheeks were flushed from the cold air outside and those dimples were already out. He turned to me.
“Morning.”
One word. Delivered with the easy confidence of a man who’d watched me come undone in his lap and felt no need to be weird about it.
I grabbed the comforter and yanked it over my face.
