Page 57 of Heroes & Hitmen
I roll my eyes and smack his arm, but it’s half-hearted. My whole body is humming like a live wire, every nerve ending alight.
I check my watch nervously, heart still beating fast as I fight to regain my composure. “I have to get going,” I mutter, swiping at the corner of my lips with a thumb. “Gotta swing by the library before my next class.”
Ares dips his chin in a nod, reaching beside him for the cupcake box and offering it to me. “For the road?”
A smile tugs at my lips as I take it from his hands, never one to turn down sugar. Then I push up to my feet, grabbing for the strap of my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
“I’ll walk you,” he offers, rising to stand beside me.
I don’t need an escort, but I also don’t put up any resistance when I start down the path and he falls into step with me. We walk side by side through the chaos of midday campus, his hand grazing mine once, twice, until finally I just let him take it. It feels so good that I almost forget why I’m supposed to resist.
When we get to the library, I stop and pivot in his direction. “This is it,” I say, throwing a thumb over my shoulder toward the building.
He nods, then without warning, bands an arm around my waist and yanks me in, kissing me hard and fast. I cling to his shirt, barely keeping upright, the cupcake box nearly slipping from my other hand.
When he pulls back, I’m dizzy, breathless, even more off-kilter than before. I glance around the path, not seeing anyone from the pack in sight.
“Who was that for?” I pant.
His lips slide into a grin. “Me,” he growls, voice rough. “See you at home, sweetheart.”
My mouth drops open, but words don’t come. All I can do is watch mutely as he turns and starts walking away, my head still spinning, body pulsing with wild energy.
There goes any hope of me concentrating for the rest of the day.
CHAPTER 19
Ares
I’m definitely being punished.
For the first two weeks I was here, I only got called out on an assignment once– and for something that actually required my particular set of skills. Now, I’m getting called to do the Alpha’s bitch work every other day.
Surveillance. Escort runs. Shadowing some low-level pack runner as if he’s suddenly going to get ambushed in broad daylight.
Today’s assignment? Watch a cargo shipment arrive at the docks and make sure it gets unloaded without issue.Riveting stuff.Because clearly, moving stacks of shrink-wrapped crates is a high-risk security threat that demands having a sniper on standby.
Orders are orders, though, and Alpha Gage wants eyes on everything lately– especially mine. Ever since I pulled the whole‘Surprise! We’re fated mates!’stunt with his daughter, he’s been keeping me on a tight leash. Probably thinks keeping me busy will prevent me from fucking up his plans for the spectacle he’s intent on making out of our mating– the gala, the ceremony, the whole fake fairytale. Joke’s on him, because assignments like this give me plenty of time to think of ways to fuck shit up.
Too much time, really.
The upper floor of this abandoned building I’m in feels like a goddamn oven. There’s no AC, no breeze– just thick, stale air and peeling walls trapping in the summer heat. It’s so goddamn sweltering up here that my t-shirt’s soaked through, the fabric clingingto my back like a second skin. My palms are slick on the rifle stock, and there’s a fly that keeps landing on my face like it wants to get shot. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple and I wipe it away irritably, shifting my grip and leaning back in to peer through the scope.
Below, a handful of workers are unloading the crates from a shipping container, hauling them into a box truck with the assistance of a forklift. There are no threats in sight. No shady figures lurking in the wings, no signs of anything amiss. Which begs the question–why the hell am I even here?
Oh,right. Because I opened my big mouth and claimed Miley Beckett as my mate.
Not that I regret it. Not for a second.
But still, fuck my life.
Boredom sets in fast. Since nothing notable is happening on the docks, I take my eye off the scope for a moment to glance down at the digital display on my phone. Miley should be getting out of class right about now. She’s got a break before her next one, which means she’ll probably hit the library or the cupcake place near campus. Good thing I know her schedule like the back of my hand since I can’t be physically present to keep an eye on her these days.
The bullshit assignments her father keeps sending me out on are getting in the way of my master plan to win her over. All week, we’ve been passing like ships in the night– a few exchanged words in the morning while we get ready, a charged moment when we scent one another before leaving the apartment. Purely to keep up appearances, of course.
Not that it feels like a chore when I’ve got my hands on her body and she’s trying not to tremble beneath my touch. I look forward to our morning scenting sessions a littletoomuch.
Evenings are hit and miss. Sometimes she’ll sit with me in the living room, but most nights she shuts herself in the bedroom to study– the same bedroom she still won’t let me sleep in, no matter how many times I ask.
