Fuck.
He’d already crossed a line.A huge fat line.But he could still write that off as acting their part in an unexpected situation. If he stretched the truth a little. But Arlington didn’t need to know the details and probably wanted to even less than Frank did.
It just couldn’t happen again.
Frank tossed him his keys as Stewart’s car pulled up. Michael caught them with a wince, forgetting for a moment about his hand. “See you Monday.”
“Yeah, and thanks.”
After watching Frank ride away, wondering what excuse he’d given them for needing a lift and hoping he hadn’t gone with the truth—Michael sat on the wall running along the front of Thomas’s pack building and waited.
The street was relatively quiet. He checked his watch—3.10 a.m. No wonder he was knackered. He’d started work at nine that morning, going straight to the fight from his office, and the night had turned out a lot differently than he’d been prepared for.
Watching Aaron fight… He’d expected to hate it at least a little. Doing the job he did, he saw a lot of violence. Granted, most of the injuries he saw healed themselves, but he’d also seen some that hadn’t. Both on human and shifter.
Aaron moved with such grace, such raw power. The way he’d carried himself across that dusty concrete floor, Michael could almost see the wolf in him—the bunch and expansion of his muscles as he stalked towards his opponent. Like hunting prey.
Watching Aaron dance and weave around the makeshift ring, such strength and fluid beauty wrapped up in low-slung jeans and combat boots, had been the single hottest thing in his life to date. In retrospect, it was no wonder it ended up like it had.
Michael lost his sense of professionalism the second Aaron entered the ring.
God. This fucking case would be the death of him. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Frank was right.
Tonight happened. There was nothing he could do about that now. But it couldn’t happen again. Ethics aside, Michael couldn’t afford to be distracted like that. They had a killer to catch.
Ten maybe fifteen minutes later, the front door opened behind him. Michael didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. He couldn’t explain how, but he just knew.
“Hey.” Aaron sounded surprised. His voice alone made Michael smile before he caught himself. “I thought you’d left with Frank.”
Turning to face him, Michael willed himself to act like the professional he was and not just sayfuck itwhen he saw Aaron’s face.
The face that was bruised because of him. The sight affected him more than it had earlier, maybe because they were alone now, but the evidence of it left a bad taste in his mouth. As Aaron approached, Michael met him halfway and reached up without thinking, lightly touching his jaw and his split lip. “I’m sorry.”
Tilting his head to the side, Aaron scrunched his face up. “For what?”
“For hitting you.”
“I asked you to.”
“I know that, but—”
Aaron grabbed his hand, linking their fingers. “But nothing. If you hadn’t done it, they’d have known what I am. At best they’d have thrown us out, at worst…” He shrugged a shoulder. “You already suspect Smith of being involved in those three murders. Fuck knows what he might be capable of.”
All that was true but… “I still feel like shit for hitting you.” He traced the cut across Aaron’s cheekbone, touch feather-light. It would be the easiest thing to lean in and kiss him. The way Aaron was looking at him, he wanted it too, but they couldn’t.
Aaron’s breath caught, audible in the still air, and Michael took a step back, letting his hand fall.
“Sorry.”
“You’re saying that a lot tonight.” Aaron’s eyes held all their heat from before, even though the sad edge to his smile told Michael he knew what was happening. “What are you sorry for now?”
“Because what happened tonight… can’t happen again.”
“I see.” Aaron sighed, glancing up at the stars. “I just spent fifteen excruciating minutes explaining exactly what happened in that bathroom to my alpha and beta.”
Michael winced. “I guess this is just adding to your shitty night?”
Aaron moved lightning quick, pinning Michael against the low stone wall, one hand on the small of his back to steady him. The edge of the brick dug into the back of his thighs, but Michael barely felt it—lost in the heat of Aaron’s gaze. “My night was a lot of things—painful, electric, thrilling, hot… But it wasn’t shit, Michael.” He cupped Michael’s jaw, hands warm and smooth, all that strength, and yet his touch was gentler than Michael had ever been handled. “Sam and Isaac were of the same opinion as you.”
