Page 65 of Dark Wolf Soul
I nod, ignoring the pain in my chest at the idea of her walking away from me. “If I win this war, you’ll be safe to go home.”
She sticks her hand out. “Deal.”
I shake her hand, my body heavy with the feeling that I’ve somehow promised away the only thing that will matter to me in the end.
21
LEXI
It strikes me as I draw my hand out of Grey’s that I’m now officially here as a willing participant. Well, not willing, exactly. I’m only here because I can’t go home. But I’ve agreed to be more than a puppet, and that changes everything.
Or, at least, it feels like it’s changed me. When did I go from loathing him to enjoying the way his large, warm hand feels in mine? Suddenly, nothing makes sense anymore, and I have the distinct urge to redefine where we stand.
“Grey,” I begin, but he stops me.
“Are you hungry?”
“I… sure, I guess.”
“Come inside with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re part of the squad now.”
I look back at him, more confused than ever. Just because we’re allies doesn’t mean we’re friends… right?
“What?” he asks when I don’t answer.
“I don’t know. You’re being nice to me. It’s weird.”
His lips quirk. “Just trying to keep you on your toes. I’m going to see if Crow managed to cook us up something. Will you come?”
He stands and holds out a hand.
I take it warily and let him pull me to my feet. My skin tingles where he touches me, offering a jolt of lust and something else I can’t name. I realize my body has made a fast leap from friends to wanting to pick up where we left off with that lap dance.
Not happening, I tell myself.
Allies is one thing.
But wanting more than that—wanting him—is a disaster waiting to happen. He’s my kidnapper, for fuck’s sake. And the future mafia boss of Indigo Hills if all goes well.
I cannot be falling for the bad guy to end all bad guys.
Absolutely fucking not.
When his hand lingers in mine, I don’t pull away first.
Inside, Crow has made scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits. Everyone else is nearly done, but there’s plenty of food left. I want to ask if they’re expecting an army or if Crow always makes this much, but that would mean getting a word in edgewise. At Grey’s insistence, I slide in and make a plate while their conversation swirls around me.
“Crow, you’re killing me with this shit,” Ramsey says around a mouthful of buttered biscuit. “Just open a restaurant already.”
“Seriously,” Razor says. “He’s the best cook in this fucking city.”
“Hey, my mom—” Ramsey begins.
“Yeah, your mom,” Dutch says and throws a balled-up paper towel that hits Ramsey’s cheek. “No one does it better than her.”
