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We had yet to discuss what we were going to do about her death, but we would be doing something in due time.
Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on my knees and made sure I had their attention. “Until I know the who, what, when, and why, I’m keeping Cali close to me.”
Grimm shot me a skeptical look while Cobra’s expression turned smug. They knew what happened the last time I kept a woman close to me and it didn’t end well between us. They each played a role in her eventual downfall. That was years ago though, and I got what I wanted out of that situation. This was different.
I had selfish ulterior motives. I hadn’t been this intrigued in a very long fucking time—not by a woman who was supposed to be dead.
We had come across bitches before who would beg to be let in without actually knowing what it was they were asking for, swearing they were like us at heart, but it was all bullshit. After they were used a few times, they eventually buckled and had to be killed. It was pure entertainment, watching them all try to be something they weren’t.
I never made it easy for anyone to get in; I never accepted anyone at face value. I had too much shit at stake to ever be stupid and careless. Too many people relied on me.
This girl, though? She was different, so fucking different to what I had imagined. When she looked up at me and smiled, I saw insanity dancing behind hypnotic blue irises. It was the kind that made people scared shitless. I saw her look the devil in the eyes and accept what everyone else feared.
The immediate pull between us almost felt magnetic. It sure as shit wasn’t love, but definitely lust, and maybe something else. I couldn’t fully wrap my head around it and I honestly wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Cali lived with The Order for nineteen years. She knows something that can help us.” Cobra spoke up first, handing the bottle back to me.
“Yeah…well, The Order also said she was dead. We don’t know what happened in the last however many years. They could have sent her themselves,” Grimm pointed out. Bitterness we were all familiar with laced his tone.
The fucking Order was a major pain in my ass. I had so much shit th
at needed to be handled and David was fifty percent of it. We all had our reasons for wanting to find the motherfucker, and we were close, so damn close.
“We can use this to our advantage. Just let me think for a minute.” Because all I had was a minute. We were running out of time, the clock was ticking faster each day, and this was something I hadn’t prepared to handle.
I meticulously planned my shit. I knew exactly when every bump, twist, and turn was coming my way, but I never saw this one.
I didn’t know a dove was going to land amongst the crows, and while her white feathers represented purity, her jet black heart gave life to a beautifully insidious soul.
He was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. For a few seconds, I thought I was having one of my rare good dreams again. He was facing away from me, getting a shirt from a dresser. His body was…incredible.
The patterned ink and his well-defined physique made him look like a living, breathing piece of art.
His hair was perfectly styled, undercut and combed back on the top with tattoos running around the trim line. I was still appraising him when he turned around, giving me a quick view of his solid abs that were also covered with tattoos, one being of a nearly obscured Sabbatic goat head, accompanied by a quote that read Flesh Of Blood Of Bone.
His fitted black T fell into place and slowly brought things back into perspective. I tried to swallow and nearly choked on dry air. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with a handful of cotton-balls. In the midst of my coughing episode, my bladder made sure to let me know it was seconds away from busting wide open.
“Bathroom?” he asked, plucking the thought right from my head.
I looked at him and nodded.
“It’s through there. Do your thing and clean yourself up. There’s shit in the box.”
He pointed to a semi-open door to my left before heading out of the room, barely paying me any attention. I heard the telling sound of a lock clicking into place and then his boots carrying him away.
Shoving the comforter away with my legs, I slowly sat up and looked down to see I was wearing an oversized black t-shirt, much like the one Romero had just put on. My bra was still on—not that I would have cared if it wasn’t; Daddy dearest made sure I was comfortable being naked around strangers. I just wondered who’d taken the liberty of starting to scrub the dirt from my body.
Scurrying off the (surprisingly comfortable) bed as quick as I could, I tested the waters with how I felt pain-wise, relieved that though I was sore, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been.
I still took my time walking to the bathroom, glancing around the room as I went.
There was no real character to it. The gray walls were bare and the bed linens were all black, as were the few scarce pieces of furniture. The bathroom was just as dull with the same cold, sterile feel to it. Nothing about either room gave away anything about the man they belonged to, except the smell.
It was his smell. I’d inhaled it the second he stopped me from falling on my face—twice. It wasn’t synthetic, but all natural. It was exotic, a little indulging, and after sleeping in his bed, intoxicating.
My bare feet carried me across a cool slate floor. I plopped down on a steel seat and shut my eyes. Warm sunlight filtered down on my face from an oval window above the toilet.
“Shit, I got in.” My eyes popped open as if I were just now coming awake. I did my business and then rushed over to the sink. The flare-up in my side barely registered.
