Page 23 of Hunted Ink by Trisha Linde

“Hands off, old man. This one’s mine.” I meant the driver, of course.

Apollo’s eyes flared bright as they locked with mine through the windshield, an array of emotions on display as he tracked my path. He didn’t even blink as I rounded the truck and leaned in the open window to claim a filthy kiss, my fingers gripping the back of his neck to keep him in place. Eventually, I pulled back, both of us gasping for breath. “Hi, mate,” I panted.

A vibration rattled through his chest as he nuzzled against me in very lupine behavior, as if marking me with his scent, and I knew his wolf had missed me too. “I like the sound of that,” he whispered. “Mate.” So did I.

He pulled back from me, though reluctantly. “I’m not sure how much time I have. Pater is expecting me to get the truck repaired today.”

“I can do that for you, but it might take allll day. We’re very busy, you know,” I drawled, looking pointedly around the near-empty parking lot. “In fact, we might need to order in some parts. You’ll probably have to come back next week too.”

He couldn’t stifle his smirk. “Oh, damn. That sounds awful,” he said in a voice that indicated it was anything but.

“Since I’m on a lunch break, though…” Apollo seemed amused as I reached through the window to unlock the truck door and pulled it open. “You should come with me.”

“Come with you where?”

I shrugged, leaning across his lap to unbuckle his seatbelt. “It’s a surprise.”

He narrowed his eyes at me as I took his hand and led him around to the back of the garage. “I’m not sure I like surprises,” he said warily.

“You’ll like this one,” I assured him, and sure enough, as we rounded the corner and he caught sight of the ’69 Camaro parked out back, his expression brightened right up. Its sleek body was painted a toxic shade of orange, and I loved it.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a car,” I said, totally deadpan. “You can tell by the four wheels, and when you turn a key in the ignition, it goes vroom-vroom.”

I yelped as he smacked my ass playfully. “Yes, thank you, but why are you showing it to me?”

“Because it’s my car,” I explained, trailing my fingers across the hood seductively. “It was a total wreck when I bought it for a steal five years ago, but I’ve been fixing it up whenever I have a bit of spare income. My boss lets me park it here.”

Apollo’s grin was borderline predatory as he closed in on me. He took hold of my hips and pinned me between the car’s hard body and his. “It’s a sexy car. Almost as sexy as its owner.” Then his smile shifted into something more tender. “I like learning these things about you. I want to know everything.”

“Wanna go for a ride?” I asked, my rapid heartrate having more to do with my mate’s hands on me than the anticipation of speed.

“That depends. Can I drive?”

I gave him a quick kiss, then bounded around to the driver’s side. “Hell no.”

He got into the car anyway.

The Camaro’s tires skidded across the pavement as I cranked the steering wheel to the left, the squeal accompanied by the scent of burning rubber. Wind whipped through the open windows, tugging my hair in all directions, and the endless line of trees passed by in a green-hued blur.

I whooped as my stomach was left somewhere a few miles back, the force of the acceleration pushing me back into my seat, the engine growling beneath me. I peeked across at Apollo, expecting to see a similar expression of joy on his face, but his eyes were set on the horizon, his jaw clamped tight. As soon as he felt me watching, he tried to paste on a smile, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Immediately, I took my foot off the gas, my focus shifting. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my gut squirming. I hated to think I’d caused him to feel anything but happiness.

Apollo shook his head, playing confused. “What? Nothing’s wrong.” His voice cracked, laced with tension. He was a decent actor when he needed to be, but I could tell he didn’t like lying to me. He was wound tighter than I’d ever seen him, even when he’d been in pain, his body painted with wolfsbane.

I didn’t hesitate, just quickly pulled over onto the paved shoulder and came to an abrupt stop, a cloud of dust catching up to us. “I’m sorry. My wolf loves going fast, I just assumed yours would too.”

“He does—I do too, but…” he rushed to explain, blinking rapidly before he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned toward me, taking my hand to soften the blow of whatever he was about to say. His eyes bored into me with a searing intensity. “But I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if you crashed. At that speed, no amount of shifter healing could save you. You could be dead on impact, or worse, trapped inside a tangle of twisted metal, suffering and in pain, bleeding out… I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.” He shook his head sharply, a deep crease appearing between his brows as he turned to look back through the windshield. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to tell you what you can and can’t do. Especially when it’s something you love. I’ll get over it.”

A little growl escaped my lips, and he flinched, likely thinking it was directed at him. Well, I couldn’t have that. I undid my seatbelt, and with zero grace, I hiked one knee up and crawled over the console. After hitting my head on the roof and honking the horn with my hip, I finally landed in his lap and took his poor, shocked face between my hands.

“What are you d—” he began, but I silenced him with a hard, messy kiss.

Pulling back, I stared straight into his eyes so he knew how serious I was. “I love driving fast, but I love you more, and honestly, the thought of putting you in danger makes me sick. Gods know there’s enough danger in our lives without adding to it. There are other ways for me to get my kicks—safer ways. Like rollercoasters.”

He snorted a little laugh before sobering. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be that guy, the controlling asshole who stifles the man he loves.”