Page 15 of Into the Fire: Before

My mind turned over what Lin had said before about Caine. A bit of social anxiety didn’t give anyone a pass for being a prick,but maybe I’d judge him by his second impression instead of his first. Give him a chance to course-correct.

Assuming we ever saw the man again. His fleeing the rooftop earlier made more sense in light of Lin’s revelation, though.

“So,” I said, infusing lightness into my tone, “why’d you choose this complex to live in? If you deal in luxury living, surely there are nicer places.”

Lin’s brow wrinkled in a grimace, and I replayed my words in my head. I hissed in embarrassment.

Okay, yeah. Second impressions are a friend to all.

“We love the building,” I amended. “And we love the location, all of it! I just meant—”

“Take a breath, Alpha, I’m just messing with you,” Lin said, his face falling back into a smooth look of smug enjoyment. I relaxed, taking a steadying sip of my drink. Pretending that was the source of the heat blooming behind my ribcage, and not the casual way he’d just called meAlpha.So rare that anyone acknowledged my designation, let alone used it as my pet name.

“Some might want to live in luxury,” Lin continued, “but that’s not us. All the places I work on, they’re metal and glass and marble.” He shrugged. “I enjoy the roughness of woodgrain and brick. It’s warmer. Homier.”

I nodded, considering his words. “I’d agree.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk and a sip. “Now, I enjoy some of the finer things, absolutely. I’m a sucker for aesthetic.” He paused, taking a quick but unmistakable sweep of my body with his eyes. The corner of his lips twitched up, speaking volumes. “But I wanted a home, not a showroom.”

“Makes perfect sense,” I said with the breath left in my lungs. We stared at each other, our gazes weighted and searing. The air around us thickened, the lights criss-crossing over us hazy. My heart beat so hard in my chest I could hear the reverberations in my ears, like the ocean in a pearlescent shell.

We stood side by side, the outside of my arm pressed against his. His eyes flicked to my lips then back up to my eyes. His left hand lowered his drink at his side, fingers gripping the top of the highball glass. I stood, frozen, as his right arm slid behind us, rose up until it could rest on the small of my back. The pressure was light. A request, not a demand. The request was in his eyes, too—Can I get closer to you?

And fuck me, I had no earthly idea how I felt about that.

“All right, superstar, you got this!”

Brooks’s voice pulled me from the trance. Maybe that was why my heart was pounding so hard yet why my limbs were stiff, locked into place, as he gave Taryn a hearty push at the hips and let her roll.

Withoutbracing her along the way.

The voice in my head that tried to reason with my alpha, that tried to calm her and reassure her that her omega was going to be just fine, could barely be heard over the snarl ripping through my throat. Because my alpha knew. She saw it like a vision.

Taryn rolling far faster than she should’ve been with so little control over the board.

How the skateboard wobbled back and forth under her feet as she stood on her own.

The wall at the edge of the rooftop, not quite tall enough to prevent a body from rocking right over it.

My omega, closing the gap too fucking fast.

I let Brea recede, and released the alpha.

My body dashed across the patio.

Have to reach omega.

Have to touch omega. Save omega.

Alarm flashed through the bond as Taryn realized what I already had. Taryn slammed her back foot down on the skateboard, not even trying for the fancy swivel she and Brooks had been working on for the last ten minutes. Only a brake.

But her foot was too far back, her ankle landing half on the curved portion of the board and half on the concrete. The wheels had too much momentum. Fury burned through my chest as my omega’s ankle turned at a sickening angle and the board shot out in front of her, colliding with the brick wall that—thank god for small miracles—she wasn’t flying over.

That only meant she was falling backward toward the concrete, so fast I’d be half a step too late to catch her, so fast she couldn’t put her arms out to stop the fall, and even if she did she’d break a wrist for sure, and god if she hit her head at that speed—

Only she didn’t.

I’d been a half step too far away. But Lin hadn’t.

---