Is this what being mates would be like? Him dragging me off to semi-private places, desperate to have me. Joking around together, all the fantastic sex, and him treating me like I'm the most important thing in the world.
Maybe it's just post-orgasm bliss talking but it doesn't sound bad, not at all.
23.Three Minus One
Wynn
“Home sweet home,” Marlow declares as the cabin door swings open and he strides inside.
Looking around, it doesn’t seem as cramped and cutesy as it used to. The carved figurines and landscape paintings are familiar and refreshing. Home sweet home indeed.
“I almost missed it,” I say.
"Really? Because I enjoyed central heating and warm food."
"Roughing it isn’t so bad."
He snorts. "That’s all thanks to you."
I head for the couch and sit down while Marlow looks around, crossing the room in a few strides and then heading to the bedroom. “Iggy, you back yet?”
No response. Maybe he’s enjoying a long flight. Could we have round two before he returns?
First, I need a moment to relax. I tip my head back against the couch and close my eyes. Despite all the downtime involved in hiding out, being on the run means the stress never ends. It’s exhausting.
“Someone should probably unpack some of the crap we got from Bane and Josh,” Marlow says.
I say nothing, waiting for him to figure it out. I know the perfect demon for the job.
He sighs. “Yep, that’s what I was afraid of.”
Marlow carries the bags to our bedroom, unpacking without complaint. Wow, have I really domesticated the demon?
Wait a minute. Marlow went tothebedroom, not our bedroom. It's not ours.
…Oh, fine. Who am I kidding? 'Our bedroom' has a nice ring to it.
It takes a second for the scent to register. Something foreign lingers in the cabin, though it doesn’t strike me as totally wrong at first. It’s a scent I've picked up on before and recently too. What is that?
I open my eyes and see it. A white piece of paper sits propped against a bowl on the coffee table. Shit, that definitely wasn't there when we left.
"Marlow,” I call out. “There’s a note."
Something in my voice must get his attention because it doesn’t take him long to join me.
"What the hell are you—oh."
I'm staring at the page, not letting it out of my sight for a single second like it might rise up and attack. What a rude wake up call. We aren't two lovers enjoying a romantic getaway. Marlow's a fugitive and I'm his accomplice.
And someone discovered our hideout.
Marlow is the one who finally reaches for the paper. He scans it silently and whatever message waits there drains the color from his face. His grip slackens and the page drifts down.
I snatch it mid-fall, crumpling the edges as I catch it. My stomach tightens, already knowing something terrible waits.
“Surrender yourself,” it says. “You have twenty-four hours.”
The scent clicks into place. The detective. He tracked down our hiding spot. But that's not all he uncovered. The next words make my blood run cold.
