“You act as if we have a choice,” he said.
“We don’t have to rush this.”
“Do don’t? What about the demons?”
Indy might’ve been swept up in Malik, but he still wanted to know why those demons had been after his mate. He was going to drop it, but he also wasn’t going to push either.
Malik’s thumb stroked along his cheekbone. “I’ll handle them.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“Yes. I am.”
Indy opened his eyes to find Malik watching him with an expression so tender it made his heart flutter. This impossible man had crashed into his life, bringing both danger and safety.
“I can’t think when you touch me,” Indy admitted, but didn’t pull away.
Malik’s hand dropped immediately. “Sorry.”
The hell?
“No, I didn’t mean—” Indy caught his wrist before he could pull away. “That’s a good thing. Not a scrambled brain. I mean you touching me.”
They stayed frozen like that, Indy’s fingers wrapped around Malik’s wrist, feeling his pulse race to match his own. The air between them felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
A knock at the door shattered the moment. Indy was tempted to yell at whoever it was to go away. Worst timing ever.
“Malik?” Ryan’s voice called. “Grayson wants to see you.”
Rising to his feet, Malik couldn’t hide his reluctance. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ll count the seconds.” Indy instantly regretted his words. That had sounded so freaking lame.
Malik smirked, winked, then strode from the room.
“Sure. Scramble my brain then walk away. Typical guy.”
Alone, Indy collapsed back into the chair, thankful he hadn’t swooned.
Everything had happened in such a blur—demons, injured dogs, and now this.
He was afraid to wonder what came next. “Don’t you dare think about clowns or zombies.”
But that’s exactly what popped into his head. “You’re an idiot.”
Chapter Two
The smoke curled up from the grill and drifted into the early evening air, carrying the rich and savory aroma of charring fat and something herbaceous that Indy couldn’t immediately identify.
Whatever it was, it smelled obscenely good.
So did Malik. He stood at the grill with the kind of ease that suggested he’d done this a thousand times, one hand resting on the handle, the other turning a steak with tongs.
The man’s good looks were unfair. That was the only word for it. Six feet and five inches of unfair, wearing a soft grey T-shirt that had absolutely no business fitting the way it did across his shoulders. Every time Malik reached over to adjust something on the grill, his arm flexed, making Indy’s cock perk up like it was time to party.
Glancing around from where he sat on the deck steps, Indy realized the backyard was bigger than it looked from the house, with a wide stretch of grass that faded into a row of old oaks at the property line. String lights ran along the fence in unlit loops, the kind that probably looked pretty when turned on. A few mismatched chairs were scattered across the deck. It was cozy.
“How do you take your meat?” Malik asked without turning around.
