Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Apex stepped in between them. “Okay, I let you have some fun. Now he has to go—”
“Does that bother you?” Mayhem talked over his friend’s shoulder. “That she’s fucking me? ’Cuz if it does, good. I’m glad. I hope it keeps you up all day long—”
“I’m coming for you. Watch your back—”
Apex wheeled around on the guy. “Shut up, Remis. Get in your fucking car and go back to Caldwell—”
That finger he clearly liked to jab in people’s faces swung in Apex’s direction. “Stay out of this. If you know what’s good for you—”
“Right now, I’m all that’s keeping him from killing you. So how about you do us both a favor and leave? I don’t really like you, so I’m not sure how long I’m going to keep the peace going. FYI.”
With a last look toward the house, the ex marched around, got behind the wheel—and made the mistake of trying to peel out in the snowpack. Even with those snow tires, and all that fancy, computer-aided traction, he didn’t get far with that.
So he was forced to creep out, his luxury sedan making like a child’s remote control toy—
A heavy arm became a bar across Mayhem’s chest. “Let him go.”
“I’m not going after him.”
“Then why did you just take two steps forward.”
Did I? he wondered.
Well, Apex was probably a better judge of his actions than he was at the moment.
Nodding, he turned back to the house. Walked back.
As he came up to the entrance, he stopped in front of Mahrci. And it was then when he realized what he’d said.
Fuck.
He glanced over his shoulder at Apex. “We’re not sleeping together. Just so we’re clear. I only said that to get a rise out of him.” Then he turned back and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I probably should have handled . . . all of this better—”
Mahrci threw her arms around him and squeezed him so hard, she nearly popped his head off his spine. Not that he cared. The sound of her weeping just about tore him up—
“That was frickin’ awesome!” She pulled back, and was laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “Did you see the expression on his face? And what was the move around the car?”
Oh, okay. Not crying, but laughing hysterically.
All at once, the three of them were imitating Remis’s slippery strides, their hands waving around over their heads, the laughter echoing all around—because clearly, they all needed it. And when the tension had been burned off, they stood out in the cold and caught their breaths.
“Okay, that was a little mean,” Mahrci said.
Mayhem glanced at her throat and thought, Not even close to mean.
And then Mahrci was taking his hand and holding his eyes intently. “You’re not the help, not like he meant it. I want you to know that.”
Even though Apex was right beside them, Mayhem reached up and brushed that one strand of hair out of her face again. “I wasn’t offended because I know I’m not. But thank you, for caring how I might have taken it.”
She nodded. “And thank you . . . for coming in when you did.”
“Wellllllllllll, I mighta been eavesdropping. A little bit. It goes without saying that I think you did the right thing getting out of that mating.”
“I had to.” Her face grew grave. “I didn’t have a choice. I had . . . to do the right thing.”
When she shivered, he knew that it wasn’t the cold.
Slipping his arm across her shoulders, he led her back into the house, the warm, well-lit house, where he would keep her safe.
For however long she would let him.
“I’m going to cook,” he murmured. “For the both of us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY–SEVEN
As Mayhem took the female inside, Apex stayed out on the porch. He told himself that it was because he had to make sure that bastard Remis had really left. He told himself it was because he needed some fresh air. He told himself . . .
That it was not to look at the groundskeeping garage, and search that lineup of darkened windows or that slumbering truck for any sign of the wolven.
“So fucking stupid,” he muttered, his breath wafting over his shoulder.
Because what he was really searching for was answers: For what he could have done differently not just tonight in the kitchen, but all those nights back at that bedside, so long ago.
If Callum could only talk to him . . . maybe they’d work through some things together. After all, words could be bandages for injuries of the soul, and that was a two-way street. Spoken by, spoken to. And yes, he was jealous of fucking Blade.
It would have almost been easier if the two of them had just had meaningless sex. But noooo, that symphath had said some combination of syllables that had unlocked Callum a little.