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Chapter Three
I tugged at the hem of my dress, suddenly missing hell.
Not the fire or brimstone or constantly being almost killed thing. Those had sucked, to be honest.
The wardrobe, though?
To die for.
Which was an unfortunate saying in a lot of ways. When something finally killed me, if I ended up there—did reapers have souls? I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen any reaper dead in hell—I doubted Lucifer would bequite so willing to share the sick threads.
Leaving Kase alone hadn’t been something I’d wanted to do, but after a few hours of cuddling, I’d suspected he could use the rest. Besides, I’d needed to get home so I could have a meltdown about my date.
Troy sat in my living room, patient as ever, as I put on my third outfit of the night in my bedroom.
Whywas I so nervous? It made no sense!
I’d had sex with Troy numerous times, I’d trekked through hell with him, so what was the point of worrying about how a dress looked on me?
In fact, we weremates.
Finally, I gave up. The reality was that Troy had seen me at my worst. I doubted a little black dress that was a tad shorter than it had been when I’d bought it five years and a good fifteen pounds ago would make him throw in the towel.
He twisted when I walked in, the sort of automatic turn that always made my heart speed. It was like he had an extra sense when it came to me, as if he were drawn to me no matter what else happened around us.
And that never failed to excite me. Something about his almost predatory edge turned me on, especially because of how much in control of himself he always was.
He inhaled slowly as his gaze drifted over me, his silver-fox look making the suit he wore even more regal.
He’d never been a guy to dress up, but when he did?
Damn.
He gave Kase a run for his money.
“You know, I don’t sleep with men on the first date,” I blurted out, the joke stupid but all I could think of to break the tense moment.
Troy let out a deep sound full of something between affection and annoyance—my sweet spot. “Well, that would be the only time you don’t, then.”
I paused. “Did you just make a sex joke?” The idea that Troy could do such a thing felt like Hunter being serious or Grant obeying any sort of law—it was just wrong.
Troy rose, towering over me as he always did, yet it was somehow more obvious in his suit. “I can make jokes.”
“Yeah, but you’re a dumb-joke sort of guy,” I pointed out. “You do the whole,‘Hi, hungry, I’m Dad’, thing.”
He reached out and caught my hand, then tugged me forward. I melted against his front, surprised as ever at how effortless things seemed with him.
It had beensohard to crack through all his layers ofstay away. He’d spent so long worried that he might hurt me, that I’d get killed either by him or due to his own inaction, that now, when we moved past it, it was hard to believe.
Even my own fear, that he’d never really let go of his old mate, that he’d always long for her, had mostly gone away. Something about the way he kissed me managed to reassure me each time.
He leaned down, not enough to reach my lips but enough to make an offer—one he knew damn well I’d take him up on. Troy’s lips were addictive—wild and soft and tasting of thunderstorms and full moons.
The kiss didn’t linger, but not because I had the good sense to pull away. Instead, he did, an unhappy grumble escaping him about dinner.
“We could miss dinner,” I said. “I don’t have anything edible here, but I’m sure you do at your house.”
“We’re supposed to go out,” he said.
