Page 39 of The Lunatics

I laughed. Thanks to my current stress level, it came out slightly hysterical.

His amusement fled, replaced by concern and a bone-deep weariness that dragged me further into my own state of exhaustion. Either I was getting better at reading his moods, or he was too tired to guard them.

The elevator slowed and then stopped, the doors whooshing open to reveal a different apartment from what I’d expected. I’d been anticipating more beige. This was done in shades of gray, cast iron, and brick. It was modern, masculine, and industrial. There wasn’t a single piece of art on the walls. The décor was minimal. It made the place feel open, eased some of the claustrophobia that being in the city triggered.

“Where can I sleep?” I asked, shuffling in.

“The spare bedroom is to the right,” Michael answered.

“See you on the other side,” I said, beelining toward it.

“Good night, Layla.”

“Night,” I said, so tired that I somehow managed to slur a single-syllable word.

CHAPTER 9

The bedroom I woke up in was almost pitch dark. It took me a moment to remember where I was, and with this knowledge came the flood of events that had led me here. The urge to roll over and go back to bed was strong. Sleep was the only peace I’d had in the last few days, and I longed to lose myself to that oblivion for a little longer.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be, because I felt Michael moving around somewhere nearby, and the bond made me impatient to see him, to check him over and make sure he was okay, so I dragged my carcass out of bed instead.

The smell of coffee wafted over me when I opened the door. I zeroed in on it like a bloodhound, letting my nose lead me toward it. From the sound of the accompanying bubbling and dripping, it was still brewing.

I’d been so wiped out last night that I only had a brief sense of Michael’s apartment. My gaze darted over it anew as I padded toward the promise of caffeine. The main living area was an open concept with high ceilings and exposed ductwork. The exterior walls were brick, while the interior ones were painted a charcoalgray. Shafts of light peeked out from behind the heavy curtains, hinting at midday.

The kitchen took up one side of the living area in a swath of dark cabinets and granite. A clock on the stove told me it was just after one in the afternoon. I’d managed to sleep for nine hours, so why was I still so wiped out? I felt like I could pass out for another nine, at least. Was combined exhaustion via the bond a thing? I’d have to ask my parents.

The sight of Michael standing by the coffeemaker stopped me in my tracks. He faced away from me, wearing running shorts that sat low on his hips. I knew they sat low on his hips because he had nothing else on. Not even socks. And why the hell did I suddenly find that erotic? I’d been around half-naked people my whole life. Wolves stripped clothing off to change form without a care in the world. At my age, I’d seen more private parts than a seasoned porn director. It never mattered before. Now I felt like one of those dudes from historical romance novels that sported wood every time they caught sight of a creamy ankle.

That must be it. Michael was so buttoned up all the time that this first glimpse of flesh sent me over the edge.

I blinked and had my second shock of the morning. Then I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Nope, still there. The dark ink of stylized runes tripped up Michael’s spine and then spread across his broad upper back. Mr. Prim and Proper was covered in tattoos. My brain struggled to fit this fact into the image I had of him in my mind.

He turned around then, treating me to the sight of dense pectorals and thick abs stacked like blocks. Heavy slabs of muscle made up his shoulders and biceps. My jaw nearly dropped. Michael was built like a fucking brick house.

His gaze latched onto mine. Then, ever so slowly, it ran down over me. I wore nothing but a thin white tank top and underwear.All of my clothes were at his parents’ house, and I hadn’t thought to pull my jeans back on first thing in the morning, because, again, nudity wasn’t a big deal around our kind.Usually.

A beep sounded from behind him. He pulled his gaze off me and turned away. “Coffee’s ready,” he said with forced nonchalance. I could tell it was forced, because he was working hard to suppress feelings that were far too similar to my own.

I walked to the fridge. “You have any milk?”

“On the third shelf,” he said.

I grabbed it and brought it over to the coffeemaker, stopping just beside him, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off that dense body. At this distance, it was impossible to ignore the fact that our hearts beat in tandem. It made me want to reach out and press my hand against his sternum so I could feel the rhythm beneath my palm.

I took a deep breath filled with his scent and let it out. Time to pull my big-girl panties on. “Look, we’re both attractive. It’s totally normal to notice that about each other. We should just acknowledge it and move on so it’s not awkward between us.”

He craned his head toward me, gaze guarded. “You’re not worried acknowledgment could make the situation more… trying?”

Ha. Unlikely. I didn’t think that was possible.

“It’ll be fine,” I said, forcing confidence into the words. “We’re both logical adults. We know that acting on any attraction would be a mistake at this point.”

Our gaze caught, and the fact that we were the same height and neither of us had to crane our neck up or down made it feel far too intimate. I looked away first, unsure of what I saw in his dark gaze.

“Ronald and the rest of my enforcers have called a meeting for three,” he told me.

I took one of the two cups he’d set out next to the coffeemaker,added a splash of milk, then poured coffee to the brim. “I can be ready by then.”