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“Any time, darling.” She led the way to the counter, and Shay followed, picking up her basketful of items along the way.
As Shay neared Roman, she said, “I keep warning you your face is going to get stuck like that, but you won’t listen.”
His glared only deepened. “While you were busy splurging on cute outfits,” Roman said, directing his stare to the bathing suit, “I found some things that are actually useful.”
She smiled from ear to ear, knowing exactly how much her next words would ruffle his feathers. “You really think this is cute?” She held up the bikini.
He ignored her. “Such as water, trail mix, hiking boots.”
“I found useful things too. Deodorant, toothpaste, underwear.” The only thing she couldn’t find was shampoo and conditioner, which would be a Star-damned tragedy for her frizzy hair. “What do you think of these?” She held up a cherry-print thong with red sparkles on the cherries. “Sexy, hey?”
“Let’s go, small fry.” He waved an impatient hand.
“Wait, I need boots too.”
She hurried over to the shoe rack and selected a brown pair in size six and a half—the most expensive pair, but in her defense they were the only ones left in her size.
Shay returned to the counter, set her boots down among her other things, and smiled at the clerk, who was still looking at Roman as if he might bite.
“He’s paying,” Shay declared. She smiled at Roman. “Aren’t you, Shadows?”
A twitch of his left eye was her only answer.
Shay’s smile grew. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
23
Hell’s Gate
ANGELTHENE, STATE OF WITHEREDGE
The silver glow of a cloudless night was creeping through the curtains in Max’s suite when Dallas woke him up with a pillow to the face.
He jolted into consciousness with a snort, batting aside the pillow Dallas had abandoned on his face. “Red,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He clutched the pillow and rolled onto his stomach. “Come back to bed.”
“You have exactly five minutes to get ready if you want to come with me.”
Max groaned. “This is payback, isn’t it?” He blinked away the last of the sleep that clung to his mind and took in the room—and the spitfire witch glaring down at him from the side of the bed.
“Four minutes and forty seconds,” she warned.
He redirected his tired gaze to the alarm clock on the nightstand—and swore. “There’s no way I slept for four hours.” Casen had told them to stop by the Umbra Forum at seven p.m., so Max, suspecting they’d be spending most of the night out, depending on the information the Butcher gave them, had opted for a power nap.
And now they were late—by over an hour.
Max threw the covers aside and got to his feet. “Did anyone call?” he slurred, looking for his phone.
“Yeah, Big Daddy Butcher—wondering if we’re alive, clearly.”
He swore again. “Did you answer?” Adjusting his boxers that were all twisted up from sleeping, he thumped over to the dresser and started throwing open drawers. He rifled around inside until he found a pair of jeans and a white shirt.
“I didn’t know we had reached the stage in our relationship where I’m allowed to answer your phone.” Dallas’s voice turned all fluttery as she watched him pull up his jeans and button them.
“I never said you couldn’t.” He picked up on the flush of desire coursing through her—and felt arousal of his own stir awake. “What are you looking at?” he breathed, the words coated in an invitation.
“Nothing.”
He stepped close, wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her in for a kiss.
