Page 28 of Beastly Armory
After some time, I enter thezonewhere the rest of the world has ceased existing. My head snaps up to the sound of applause as I lose my footing. Cal leans on the doorframe with a big smile on his face. Shaking my head, I come back to the present from the trance I’d locked myself into.
“I haven’t seen you dance in a minute. You still got it.”
“I never lost it.”
“Lately, you seem busy practicing archery or working on those cars out back. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you look so happy and relaxed.”
Easing myself down to a crossed leg position, I start the process of taking off my shoes and comfortingmy feet. I’m wondering if he knows about the meeting. Is this why he showed up to watch me?
“Ifeelhappy and relaxed.”
With his sure steps, he walks to the record player and pulls the needle off, then closes the lid. “Would a certain neighbor have anything to do with this change in demeanor?”
I mean, did Max have something to do with it? Yes, I may get us the weapons we need. “Sort of.”
My twin’s smooth palms help pull me up to a stand. “Hey, that’s great! I like you two spending time together.”
Now, he’s another man to ruin my mood today. “Cal, it’s not like that?—”
“I know. I know. But I did tell him I’d invite him over for dinner. Him and Arianna.”
“A dinner is fine. You guys are childhood friends. Just don’t expect more from me.” Swinging the long ribbons around my neck, I carry my shoes upstairs and drop them off before heading into my bathtub for a soak. As I sit on the rounded edge of the clawfoot tub, steam rising up from the bottom, I get a text.
Nick
Tomorrow 10pm.
Just you two, tho. No one else.
Said he’s looking forward to it.
Alpha will secure the perimeter, but that’s all. U will be on your own.
It’s on. After I text Max to let him know, he sendsback a kissing face emoji, and I smile. Oh no... I smiled. Like a fucking teenager in love. This is not good.
Instead of hot, I switch the tap to cool down before dipping my body in the water, trying to focus my mind on anyone but Max. Of course, that doesn’t work. Frustrated, I scrub up quickly and get out of the tub.
Once I dress in my robe, I take a seat at my writing desk near the window to scribble up a game plan for the meeting. When I open the drawer to take out a notepad, I see it. My mother’s will. Pulling it out, my fingers dance across the worn and faded ink on the yellowed page. She didn’t know what she was doing. Married to a man who treated her so poorly, she lost all sense of self, staying with him until he killed her. She didn’t make good decisions. I slide the paper back inside and take out a fountain pen and blank notepad. In two hours, I’ve got responses written down for anything Strauss may throw at us. I’m prepared.
The following day, I glide down our broad marble staircase to get a car for the meeting, but when my toes tap the fourth step, a tall man standing in the entryway, looking fresh as fuck, causes me pause. Max dons a sharp gray tailored suit, and a white dress shirt with no tie. The top two buttons are open, exposing his patterned black tattoos. When he sees me, his deep brown eyes trail longingly up my body, ingesting me with a hungry gaze. An involuntary smile brightens his face, showcasing perfect white teeth as he runs a hand through his thick black hair. He spent years fighting in the ring; his teeth are probably fake, but it doesn’tmatter. He looks good. And the smirk that jerks up his lips lets me know it.
Butterflies rapidly winging it in my belly make me consider turning around and beckoning him to follow me with just a finger, all the way to my bed. An image of riding his girthy, hard cock, squeezing him with my thighs as he comes inside me, infiltrates my brain until I realize I’ve been stuck on the step for probably a whole minute.
“Hot damn, foxy. You look good,” he says, as if he’s appreciating me as much as I him. My lips threaten to grin, but I contain it as I continue my descent.
“Cleaned off the road dust and blood, I see.” When I get to the bottom of the stairs, he takes a few steps toward me and raises the back of his hand to brush my mohawk off my shoulder. I turn my head to see what he’s doing, then step back from him. “Hands to yourself, lion.”
Instead of his anger this time, I get another flash of a broad smile. “I think you like me.” Before I can argue, he slides his hand into mine and tugs me through the foyer. “Come on. I’m taking you in the Barracuda.”
“Max, my cars are faster?—”
“Nope. I’ve done work on mine. If we get into trouble, we hit the highway, and I can beat them on the open road.” I acquiesce and go with him out the front door. “Besides,” he says as he gets into the driver’s side door, “I’m a better driver than you.”
Slipping inside, I slam the passenger door. “I’m not fighting with you before we do this. We need to be on thesame page.”
A wanton grin never leaves his face as he attempts to snare my hand again, but I pull it back. “Okay, I agree.”
“Stop trying to touch me!” I huff, and he lets out a boisterous chuckle as he motors toward the end of our lane. My thighs clench together as I take in the interior of the car. The scent of his cologne raises my pulse until I can feel my heart pounding through my back into the leather seat. I run a hand over the smooth dash. “So, you finally got one after dreaming about it all those years.”