Page 103 of Heat & Deceit
I hesitate, fear unraveling inside of me. The phone that Kiki left is still in the bedroom. I can shoot off a message, but if it’s the beta, he could take me before the Hell Hounds swoop in to the rescue.
Fuck that.
They might’ve had to rescue me earlier, but I’m not defenseless, especially now that I’ve had some rest. The knock comes again, this time louder and more insistent. Growling, I grab the butcher knife and march toward the door, wrenching it open and pointing the knife in the face of the knocker.
“What the fuck do you—” My words cut off and my grip loosens. It’s not the drug dealer.
Lycus’s eyes are round as saucers, dark circles mar his pale skin, and his hair is a mess. “You’re here.”
Twenty-Nine
NOVA
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Musk twines around me. Lycus is here. Slipping through my fingers, the knife clatters to the ground. Why is he here?
How does he know where I live?
Javier.He drove me home the other night.
Lycus’s eyes frantically look me over before he moves for me, arms opening, preparing to wrap me in a hug. I take a few quick steps back, heart rate spiking despite knowing, deep down, Lycus is safe. Pausing, he studies me, gaze skating over the scrapes on my arms and legs.
The shirt and shorts I’m wearing do nothing to hide the bruises. I’m clean, but it’s clear that I’ve been through hell. His rich brown eyes jump back to mine, filled with relief and traces of longing, hints of pain. Lycus is so vulnerable, I see through him and find an alpha who’s so unsure of himself, my heart aches.
What did he say in the car?
My biggest failure is being unlovable.
“Please, Rain,” he whispers, shoulders bunching and fingers twitching around the strap of my purse.
Slowly, I lift my arms and open them, bracing myself for his touch. His entire body relaxes and, instead of slamming into me, he takes careful, measured steps until he is so close our bodies press together. The purse falls to the floor. His forehead drops to mine, but he keeps his hands at his sides, fully holding himself back. I hate it. I awkwardly close my arms around him, whining softly when he sniffs and a tear splashes onto my cheek.
“I didn’t know if you would come back,” he confesses, sucking in a sharp breath. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
“Can I hug you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and he does, crushing me to his chest. He buries his head in the crook of my neck and breathes me in, making me shudder and soften in his hold. His amber scent seeps into my skin, burrows into my marrow, and whispers to my heart.
Home.
But then he stiffens, and a fierce growl rips from his lips, so loud that I shrink away from him. His arms band around me.
“Lycus, stop.” I push at his chest, and his eyes snap to mine, pupils blown wide and nostrils flaring.
“Alphas. Where are they?” he asks, storming into the bedroom and kicking open the bathroom door.
Oh, god. The Hell Hounds were in my apartment. I’m so used to their scents, I’d forgotten how much of it still lingers in the air.
“Lycus,” I say, heading into the bedroom.
He exits the bathroom and prowls toward me. “Did they do that to you?” He gestures toward the scrapes and bruises.
“No, they’re—”
“Don’t fucking protect them. Where. Are. They?” He spins, gaze dropping to the suitcase in the corner of the room. “You’re leaving?”
“That’s not—”
