She nods. “See you.”
“See you,” I murmur.
She watches me for a second longer, maybe finding the way I’m watching her strange. I can’t help it. She’s leaving, and I need to take my fill of her face for the night. Especially since she’s looking a lot less dull. I school my expression so as not to raise her suspicion.
She turns and leaves, giving me one backward glance, and that small smile again.
Salvario. A lucky motherfucker.
I want to kill him as much as I need him alive.
Chapter 7
Hunter
She said first thing in the morning. So I reach her doorstep at seven.
I wanted to get there at five, but Logan said it would look unhinged, he said that in a half-asleep state when I went to wake him at 4:30. But I took his point and waited until six. Then the motherfucker took an hour to get ready. I glare at him, waiting for the guard’s answer at the entry gate.
“Don’t look at me like that. She must be sleeping. You’re the only nightmare of a human who doesn’t. We’re still early.”
“Shut up,” I grit out.
He rolls his eyes, folding the sleeves of his brown shirt. It’s cold outside at this hour, but not enough. Canada is far colder than this. I’m also wearing only a gray-blue dress shirt and dark blue pants.
The guard comes out of his cabin and runs us through a full security screening using multiple devices before finally letting us in.
From the entry gate to the house door, there’s a pathway of about twenty meters, with gardens on either side. Her house is similar to other houses in this area, including ours. Each one has the same size garden, the same size house. Must be part of the city’s overall design.
Before we reach it, the front door opens, and her dogs come running straight to me.
“These dogs have strange taste,” Logan deadpans under his breath.
I pat their heads, walking with them toward the door, where she’s standing in a pale silk T-shirt and shorts—her sleep clothes from last night. A long lemon-colored cardigan over her shoulders. Her face glows golden under the morning sun, a small smile lifting her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes. Even at this early hour, her eyes look tired, deep bruise-like circles beneath them.
We reach her. I draw in a deep breath of her rose scent. I want to dip my face to her neck and inhale her deeper. One of the hundreds of things I want to do to her when she’s in front of me. Some of them are easy to suppress. Others are damn near impossible to keep caged, like the urge to trace the softness of her cheeks, the outline of her lips, with my fingers, my mouth, my tongue. I want to run my fingers through her silky brown hair, untangle the mess she’s made of it on her head, the mess she came to see us in without bothering to comb. It doesn’t make her any less beautiful. I’d trade everything I have to see her like this every morning, even though nothing I possess comes close to its worth, and that includes my whole being and soul.
“Good morning, Miss Elowen. The world is really small,” Logan chimes. I don’t look at him. My eyes refuse to leave the sight giving me this high of sacred serenity.
Elowen looks at him. “Indeed. Good morning—Logan, right? And please, just Elowen.”
Logan clears his throat, and I know it’s meant for me. I reluctantly look at him.
He smiles at me, then at her. “So this is my brother, Hunter, the one I was telling you about. And now you know him personally.”
He gives me a look—greet her.
I look back at her. The peace Logan snatched away returns instantly, spreading through the black matter my heart is made of.
“Good morning.”
She smiles. “Good morning.” She moves inside the house. “Please come in.”
We follow her inside. I take a quick look around her place.
It speaks of her. Soft pastel hues wash over the space, pale blush pink on the walls, cream-colored curtains filtering the morning light into a warm glow. An ivory rug spreads across the polished wood floor. From where I stand just inside the front door, I can see the kitchen and dining room opening to the left, the living room before me, and two doors at the top of the stairs, one of them, I know, leads to her bedroom.
The dogs enter behind us and settle near the couches. The gray one keeps his eyes fixed on me.
