Page 72 of Claimed
“How long have I been out?” I ask.
“Little over fourteen hours.” He appraises me. “Horan’s healing comes with the added bonus of a deep sleep for anything of the sensitive nature.”
“He’s an angel, isn’t he?”
“Literally or metaphorically?” I give him a look and he sighs. “Yes he is an angel. Of the fallen variety.”
Sadness blankets me. “That sucks.”
Caine shrugs. “He has a big enough stick up his ass that it only sucks for everyone else.” I lean up and throw the pillow at him. Unsurprisingly, he catches it out of the air, his eyes dancing. “That almost hit me.”
“Shame that.” His eyes narrow and I stick my tongue out at him.
“Do that again, and I bite it off,” he warns.
My belly swoops and I consider the merit of pushing my luck. “So what’s the plan now?” I ask finally.
He snorts. “There is no plan.”
“What?”
“We have no idea where the cases are, Onyx,” he mutters, balling the pillow up like it can hold all his frustration. “We have the locals tailing every member of Helios’ entourage and Ruin has been on conference call after conference call with Markus and anyone else that can help.”
He drops the pillow into his lap and rubs his face with both hands. The motion spreads his chest into a wide v and my mouth goes dry. “Seems Helios has pissed a lot of people off though. Including one of Ruin’s contacts in Georgia. They aren’t able to send aid due to some emergency there, but they have sent over all the information they have. Apparently, the colony leader is Helios’ illegitimate son. So the dirt is pretty deep.”
“Oh shit.”
He nods. “Which leads us to the boring side of being an enforcer,” he teases, smiling. “We collect intel and lose our fucking minds because there is nothing to do.”
I laugh and more color spills into his eyes. “Well, good. You can be bored with me then.” I pat the bed beside me. “Come on. Get up here.”
With an eye roll, he tosses the pillow and dives up into the space. His lean frame stretches out as he sinks into the pillow. I eye him for a minute. “When was the last time you slept?” I ask.
One slight ripple of his shoulder. “Been watching you.”
My face flames and I’m glad he can’t see it. “Then go to sleep.”
“Can’t,” he tells me, but there is no enthusiasm in his tone. “Got to do research.”
Laying out beside him, I reach and run my fingers through his black hair. He stops breathing. “Rest, Caine.”
He turns his head, peering at me through the weave of tangled midnight locks. I stroke them back and they fall again. My lips curve.
“Your hair has a mind of its own,” I tease.
He watches me in silence. “I’ve been thinking about cutting it.”
“Don’t.” The word comes out fast and he blinks. I flush. “Sorry. Your hair is your hair. You can do whatever you want …” I force myself to shut up.
He turns onto his side and presses his palm to his cheek as he watches me. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I ask.
“Censor yourself.” He scours my expression. “Say what is on your mind, at least to me.”
I raise a brow. “Same.”
His grin is fast and salacious. “That may not be a good idea.”
