Page 64 of Pistols & Peonies

“You still don’t get it,” I snap. “If I wasn’t in this position, the pack would be a hell of a lot worse off than it is now. Everything goes through me before it ever reaches Alpha.”

She turns back toward me, brows drawing in. “What’s that supposed to mean? That you’re the one really pulling the strings?”

I give a quick shake of my head, cutting myself off before this can go any further. I’ve already said too much.

Her head tilts, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “How many secrets are you keeping, Kane?”

“Only as many as you are,” I say, taking the ramp for the underground parking garage. I hit the remote and wait for the door to grind open, then glance at her reflection in the windshield. “You ever gonna tell me what really happened the night you came home bleeding?” I ask, watching carefully for a reaction she might not be able to hide.

She lifts her chin, meeting my gaze in the glass, lips pressed into a hard line. “You ever gonna stop asking questions you don’t want the answers to?”

I sigh and ease off the brake, rolling into the garage. The door seals shut behind us, silence stretching as I coast down the aisle toward my reserved spot, pull in, and shift into park.

“Listen,” Violet sighs, tone lighter than before. “This doesn’t have to be some fairytale. Our wolves just need proximity to keep the bond from going feral. So, let’s live our own lives and just fuck whenever we need to relieve the tension. No drama or feelings. Just the basics.”

“Fine by me,” I mutter.

“Good,” she chirps. “Glad we’re on the same page for once.”

I turn her way, and her scent hits me– bright and intoxicating, edged with something that makes my wolf want to bare his throat and surrender. I shove the door open and step out, needing air before it crawls under my skin and stays there.

She hops out of the passenger side, slamming the door behind her. I round the SUV, and we head for the elevator together. She’s already a few steps ahead, her walk all hips and defiance, but I catch up easily and fall into step beside her. We’re just two people heading in the same direction because there’s no other choice.

She stops at the elevator, hitting the call button.

I study her while we wait– the tight purse of her lips, the way her arms fold across her chest like armor. For the first time, I don’t see a job to manage or a problem to contain. I see an equal. A partner. Maybe even a rival.

“Think this might be the first time we’ve ever actually agreed on something,” I grumble.

She glances over at me, a slow grin curling her lips. “I call that growth, Commander.”

I snort a laugh as the elevator chimes. “Whatever you say, mate.”

We step inside, the doors sliding shut with a soft thud that seals us in.

There’s no telling how long this truce will hold, but at least it’s something. For once, we’ve got a plan; a way forward. Even if we both know it’s one that’s destined to fail.

CHAPTER 22

Violet

My favorite way to waste time is horizontal, so that’s how I start the night– flat on my back, sprawled across the couch in the living room with the TV on for background noise. I couldn’t tell you what’s been happening on this episode of Real Housewives if you paid me. My brain’s only half here, the rest drifting on autopilot, anticipating the moment Kane walks through that door after work.

Honestly, it’s a little pathetic how much I’m looking forward to it.

This was never the plan. I told myself I’d resist the pull of the bond even if it killed me, but dammit, now that I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, there’s no getting back out. I can’t un-fuck Kane. I also can’t stop fantasizing about fucking him again. I may despise the man and everything he represents, but goddamn the dick is good.

There’s a comfort in knowing exactly where we stand now. It’s like a reset button for my nerves– no more wondering where the hell this is going, no more overanalyzing every interaction. Our new arrangement is simple. Clean. Carnal. And there’s a dangerous thrill in knowing exactly what I want and having it delivered to my doorstep every night.

Which is why I bothered to actually get dressed for once. I mean, not dressed up, just out of my usual ratty t-shirt and shorts and into a jersey knit dress that skims my body like a fucking dream. It’s soft, black, and just short enough to make my mom clutch her pearls, which is always a selling point. No bra, just a lacy little pair of black panties that I can’t wait for Kane to peel off.

I even did my hair and threw on a little bit of makeup. Not enough to look like I’m trying, but just enough to make my eyes look radioactive and my lips look bitten. I’m going for ‘effortless’, but there’s about thirty minutes of effort baked into this.

The city’s gone blue with dusk, the windows across the skyline lighting up like a thousand tiny stars. I sink deeper into the couch, stretching my arms over my head with a long, lazy groan. Kane should be here soon. He’s a sucker for routine, and as much as I love mocking his need for control, it’s actually weirdly comforting. Predictable in the best way.

I know the exact second he steps off the elevator. My inner wolf perks up, practically panting with anticipation, and I have to physically stop myself from leaping off the couch and pacing like a caged animal. Instead, I lounge a little deeper, making sure the neckline of my dress is doing its job to frame my boobs just right, and wait for the sound of his boots in the hall.

Except tonight, it’s not just boots. The key scrapes in the lock, the door opens, and two sets of footsteps enter the apartment. The second is a lighter, more frantic staccato, accompanied with a voice that makes my blood run cold.