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When she returned to the studio, she was surprised to find him there once again, already safely hidden inside. Clearly he had no problem jimmying a lock. She made a mental note to invest in an upgrade as soon as this mess was over.
Without exchanging so much as a word with one another, they headed up the stairs to the apartment studio. The decorations there were sparse, nearly as barren as his own place, though with a touch of feminine flare thanks to an artsy streak from back in her college days. Her old leftover furniture remained there. He glanced about the space, and for the first time since he’d been there, his presence felt like an invasion.
She’d never brought anyone else here. Not even the members of her pack.
Why had she chosen to do so with him?
“There’s only one bed,” she said, getting the matters of necessity out of the way.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he volunteered.
She nodded, making her way toward the open bedroom door before she paused. She wasn’t certain what it was that made her turn around then, but suddenly, she said, “I’m sorry I pushed you. I...know this can’t be easy for you.”
Jace cut her a hardened glare, and something withered between them. Crushed by the harsh lines and rough surfaces of him. There was more to him underneath, she could feel, had seen it in the way he’d risked himself for her, in the tenderness with which he held her when they’d danced.
But she didn’t see it then.
He didn’t take a seat, instead he stood there, looking at her like her face held the answers to every question he had about her world. Finally, something in his gaze softened. “Don’t worry about me, Princess. I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”
She turned back to the bedroom, but felt herself hesitate. “I...know the feeling.”
He lifted a brow, and she turned back toward him.
“That voice that tells you that you have to be self-reliant, invulnerable,” she said. “But you don’t always have to be.” She placed a hand on the door frame, casting a glance back at him as she nodded. “Goodnight, I guess.”
She moved another foot into the bedroom.
“Hey, Princess,” he said, causing her to pause once more. “Answer me something, will you?”
She nodded but didn’t look toward him.
“In the alley...” His voice was rough, charred with whatever burned between them. “Did you mean it?”
Frankie couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t bring herself to breathe.
They both knew what he was asking. What elsecouldhe mean?
Had she really wanted to kiss him?
Earlier she would have said she didn’t know the answer, but now...
“Yes,” she finally breathed a moment later. “Yes, I meant it.”
Her wolf felt more than saw him stir behind her. His grumble of acknowledgement sent a shiver into her knees. But she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Not now.
“Fair enough,” he ground out, then paused again. “Night, Princess.”
“Goodnight, Jace.” She stepped into her room, sealing the door closed behind her as quickly as she could then, because if she didn’t, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to put a stop to what they both wanted.
Frankie laidawake long into the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep. Her mind too busy reeling, too full of questions about the what and why of all she was doing. Eventually, a stir of movement down on the street and someone’s stray car alarm broke her, and she gave up on rest in favor of rising from her bed.
She tiptoed into the studio apartment’s main area, careful not to wake a sleeping Jace as she snuck past him. She was down on the street and closing the door behind her within a minute.
“This isn’t wise.” A voice from the darkness said from behind her.
Frankie turned, unsurprised, at the sight of the man the shadows helped hide. Her wolf had sensed him there, blended among them. “Alejandro.” She nodded in acknowledgement.
Her second-in-command eased forth from the darkness, his russet skin helping him blend into the street’s darkened corners. His lineage descended from Mexican immigrants, red wolves who’d crossed over the border by way of Texas to New York City, and then eventually upstate. But she’d known him since they’d been children, since long before Rochester had beenherpack.
