Page 40 of Eight Count Heat
"Told you."
"I didn't say I couldn't handle it." She takes a deep breath, then wades in, determined steps carrying her forward until the water reaches her waist. A sharp inhale as the cold hits her fully, but she doesn't retreat.
I watch her for a moment, grinning at her stubbornness. Then I pull my shirt over my head, kick off my boots, and strip down to my black boxer briefs. My body is marked with scars, a roadmap of my life before Sable Ridge. I'm used to the questions they provoke, the sidelong glances. But out here, in the dark, they're just shadows on shadows.
I'm taller than most of the team except Bo and Gray, six-foot-three of lean muscle built through years of silent discipline rather than showy gym sessions. My black hair, usually kept long enough to fall across my eyes when I want to hide, is pushed back now so I can see her. I know what I look like – dangerous, untouchable. It's a carefully cultivated facade that keeps people at a distance.
Until her.
I walk into the water, the cold shock familiar but still intense. Reese watches me approach, her eyes briefly taking in my body before returning to my face.
"You have a lot of scars," she says quietly.
"Yes." I don't offer explanations. Never have.
She doesn't ask for them which is another surprise.
We stand waist-deep in the cold lake, an arm's length apart, the moment suspended between us like something fragile. Something that could break if either of us moves too suddenly.
"Why did you really bring me here?" she asks.
I look past her, at the distant shore, considering my answer. The truth feels too raw, too revealing.
"You looked like someone who keeps secrets," I finally say. "Thought you might appreciate a place where you don't have to."
Her breath catches. "What makes you think I have secrets?"
"Everyone does. Yours are just more obvious."
"To who?"
"To me." I meet her eyes.
"Why?" Her eyes take on a hardness. A challenge and the desperate look of someone about to run. "Why notice? Why care?"
The question catches me off guard. Words bunch up behind my teeth, then scatter. I'm not used to people asking about my motivations.
"Because I'm not what I seem," I say finally. "And neither are you."
Something flickers in her expression. "What do you mean?"
"You tell me." I step closer, the water making crisp sounds between us, but it takes effort to push the words out. "What are you hiding, Reese?"
Her face goes carefully neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I study her, the way she holds herself, the precise distance she maintains. "Most people have some kind of scent. Subtle, but there." The observation comes slowly, like I'm working through it as I speak. "You smell like nothing at all."
She goes very still. "So?"
"Betas still have scents. Faint ones." I watch her reaction carefully. "You smell like you're actively trying not to smell like anything."
"That's..." She swallows hard. "That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
We stare at each other across three feet of space that suddenly feels charged with more than just night air and cold water.
"Even if that were true," she says quietly, "which it's not, why would you care?"
