Page 6 of Love the Way You Lion
“Test run?” The words slip from my lips before I catch them. “Holy hell, when? Why didn’t I hear about it?”
I’m going to be a fucking super spy and he buried that lede?
His gaze holds mine amidst my sudden tempest of questions. The warmth of his lips lingers on my forehead as Taurus’s chuckle diffuses the tension that momentarily gripped me. “Not for a while, heart of mine,” he reassures. “I just found out myself, but we have a big class coming through. They’d like to get them settled before they bring in any wildcards.”
A slow grin tugs at my lips at the thrilling prospect. With a playful motion, I kick off the silk boxers I slipped into earlier—the fabric fluttering to the floor in a whisper. My head tilts, challenging the notion of readiness with a daring sparkle in my eyes. “I’ll be ready.”
Taurus’s eyes sparkle with an amused yet quizzical expression. “Those are the mysterious boxers,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching with suppressed mirth. His gaze locks onto mine, and I feel the cogs turning behind those thoughtful eyes. “Talia mentioned you and Sampson had visitors earlier, and you both put on clothes.” A pause hangs in the air as his forehead creases ever so slightly. “Is that something we should talk about?” The question hovers between us, tinged with a sense of unease. “It makes me itch when anything involves her and Rafe. Talia’s…” He falters for a half heartbeat before shrugging off the words unsaid.
How do I answer this without making him worry about me and Talia simultaneously?
“You should see the huge ass stack of drawings Rafe’s done,” I offer, my voice laced with fondness. “I went in there today and it was like he’d been on an art bender. He got up early and got ready just in case she came over. It. Is. So. Weird.”
My mate’s gaze softens despite the fierce protective streak in him with those he cares for. Shadows danced across his face, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, as he ponders his next words. “I’m being prickish and protective,” he admits with a reluctant sigh. “But I don’t want her to get hurt.” His fingers trace an idle pattern on my skin. “She likes him a lot—an unusual amount.”
I feel the weight of his concern, knowing it mirrors my own. Leaning closer, I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath,. “I haven’t seen him like this in forever. I don’t know—maybe never. He’s ador?—”
The end of my sentence is cut short by a sudden jolt of surprise. “Ow.” I yelp at the playful pinch from Rafe zapping through our bond. With a pout, I rub my bum where the phantom sensation still tingles. That was a way of reminding me that some things are better left unsaid by outsiders.
Jackass.
I shift on Taurus’s lap, feeling the remnants of the pinch fade into a warm tingle. My new mate chuckles, a sound that is both comforting and conspiratorial in the quiet of our bedroom.
“She’s in my head, too,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. “It’s been more stereo since you and I drained.”
“Let me just...” I mutter, rolling my eyes upward as if I can physically see the space where Rafe is. With a mental shove, I push against the familiar presence, trying to dislodge him from his perch. My brow furrows in concentration. “It’s harder to kick him out for me now.”
Taurus’s grin widens, a devilish twinkle lighting his eyes. “They can watch along with the home game then, heart of mine,” he teases, leaning closer, “because I feel like experimenting with the other things that came from our draining right now.”
The prospect sparks a thrill in me, and my response is immediate. I let out a low chuckle. “Is that an invitation I hear?” The air between us crackles with the promise of discovery, and in that moment, I relish the closeness we share, a connection deepened by secrets only we can explore.
“Christ, neither of you are good with subtlety,” he observes with mock exasperation.
The heat from our bodies creates an atmosphere of its own and my heart thrums in my chest like the wings of a bird eager for flight. I feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, against my chest. “Oh, I’m not so terrible at taking a hint.” Winking at him, I push until he’s reclining on the bed, my body draped over his like a silk scarf. “Despite what you think.”
“Keep wiggling and I’ll not be doing any thinking at all,” Taurus murmurs, his voice a husky vibration against my skin. His hands move with purpose, tracing patterns of affection that send shivers down my spine.
“Bonus,” I breathe, the word barely more than a sigh as I lean closer, allowing the magnetic pull between us to guide my actions.
I’ll teach our nosy mates to peek in on our thoughts uninvited—Skinemax, here we come.
The Writer’s Plan Comes To Fruition
WILDE
The inky sky stretched boundlessly above, stars punctuating the darkness like scattered diamonds. I stand still for a moment, inhaling the crisp air of the dead of the night. This is the hour when the world holds its breath, when the earth itself seems to pause and wait for something momentous to unfold.
And it most certainly will tonight.
I flex my muscles subtly, feeling the potent energy coursing through me—a silent testament to the strength and speed endemic to my kind. Night is our realm, the time when our powers find their true expression. With focused intent, I move, my form a whisper against the silence of the sleeping city. No one stirs; both humans and clones lay ensconced in dreams, blissfully unaware of the machinations set to unravel. It’s just as well—there can be no interference tonight, no chance occurrence to thwart what needs to be done.
My destination is clear, her abode not far now. The message has to reach her in time—that is everything. I summon the swiftness granted by the gifts I was given after the War, my body a blur against the backdrop of shadowed alleys and moonlit pavements.
She will wake to the sound of the call, a carefully orchestrated communication designed to steer her actions. No one will suspect the truth—that it is I who bent the fabric of our reality to ensure the sequence plays out as needed.
She will be just in time to hear the worst and it will kick start my scheme perfectly.
As I near her dwelling, I slow, my senses heightened. My heart doesn’t race; it is steady, metronomic, attuned to the gravity of the task at hand. The message will be received, and the timeline will unfurl with calculated precision.
