Page 34

I veered hard left, tongue lolling, and spotted a rabbit up ahead.

Perfect.

I wasn’t going to kill him, but I needed the chase. The distraction.

I lunged, muscles firing. The rabbit darted forward, white tail flashing as it zigzagged through the brush. I followed, silent and fast, weaving between trees, focusing only on its movements. Keep up. Cut it off. Stay sharp.

Eventually, I lost the rabbit in a thicket of ferns and slowed to a stop, lungs heaving. The scent of rabbit faded, replaced by damp leaves and pine. I padded to a clear patch of earth and flopped onto my back, rolling in the cool, prickly comfort of the forest floor.

Above me, the sky glowed between the treetops, streaks of moonlight slipping through the canopy.

And just like that, the ache crept back in.

Did Lucien believe us? I couldn’t tell anymore. My performances were starting to feel like skin I couldn’t peel off. I told myself the mandate was policy, not fate. My body didn’t agree.

Lucien had been too quiet after the kiss, too still. That smile he’d given Maggie had looked sweet, but I knew he was already digging. Already suspicious.

The worst part? I couldn’t even blame him.

I’d flinched like a damn rookie at every touch. Every well-meaning glance from Maggie had been a landmine I couldn’t navigate. Until that bench. Until I actually let myself want it. The first time in front of Eric was before I’d really started feeling… and now every touch from her set my nervous system on fire.

And then…fuck.

That kiss.

I’d never felt sparks like that. Not even close.

But it hadn’t been real. It had been engineered. A performance designed to fool the most dangerous man I knew. It sure was fooling me. Her lips had been soft, her hands had held me like I was worth holding, and my body had answered like it already knew the truth I was too stubborn to admit.

I rolled back onto all fours and padded toward the edge of the woods, where I shifted back, bones snapping and reshaping until I was just a guy again. A naked, tired guy carrying the weight of a kiss that shouldn’t have meant anything.

I dressed slowly, dragging the hoodie over my head and dusting leaves from my hair. My body felt better, lighter. But my chest was still tight, like I’d left something important back in the woods and didn’t know how to get it back.

By the time I reached the apartment building again, the sky was just starting to shift to deep blue, the earliest hint of morning pressing against the edges of night.

I stood outside the door for a minute. I wasn’t used to feeling this raw. I wasn’t used to wanting. And I definitely wasn’t used to wanting her.

I stepped inside, but the apartment was too quiet.

I’d tried everything. Running. Cold water. That dumb breathing exercise. Even The Sound of Music, which embarrassingly usually did the trick. Something about Julie Andrews twirling on a mountain could pull me back from the brink every time. But not tonight.

I sat there, on the couch Maggie had practically turned into a second bedroom, watching the nuns sing about solving problems like Maria, and all I could think was: how the hell do I solve Maggie?

Not fix her; she didn’t need fixing. I was the mess. The run should’ve burned off every trace of tension, every thought of that kiss, every flash of her eyes. But the second my feet hit the floor again, skin stitched back into place, lungs raw from the shift… she was still there. Under my skin. Behind my ribs.

And then I walked inside. Her scent hit me like a train.

Vanilla shampoo. Lavender detergent. That cursed lip gloss she wore that smelled like sugared citrus and tasted like poor decision-making. It was everywhere. On the throw pillows. In the carpet. On me, probably.

I stood barefoot in the dark, chest tight, hand pressed to the center of my sternum like I could push the feeling down physically.

It didn’t work.

This wasn’t just want. It wasn’t just attraction. It was something else. Some raw, cellular need to be near her that I couldn’t out-shift or sweat away. It was unsettling. Infuriating.

Which brought me to the hallway.

I stared at her door like it might open on its own. Like she might already know I was here, cracked open and borderline feral. I almost turned back.