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I huffed out a laugh, but it sounded forced. I was trying really hard not to think about that.
“So,” I said, desperate to change the subject, “when this is all over, what are you doing?”
He didn’t look at me. He stared at the camera, tilting his head to the side as he silently assessed if it was crooked or not. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I’ve always wanted to travel. Somewhere tropical maybe? Ansel said I’m free to join him in Scotland, but I don’t know if I would like it over there. I’m a city orc, and I heard they live pretty differently over there. They’re barbaric, even. I’m allowed to say that,” he quickly added after a moment of consideration. “I’m an orc.”
My heart sunk deep into my stomach. So, Demie gets an invitation, but I don’t? I would follow Ansel anywhere, even to the farthest and coldest region of Antarctica; all he had to do was ask.
That’s because you’re just a placeholder,Carter's voice echoed.
Who knows? Ansel probably has a whole line of orc women already waiting for him back at home. And if he taught me anything, it was fucking–no matter how good it was–meant nothing to him.
Demie must have decided the camera was straight enough. He climbed down the ladder and handed me the drill. “So, do you think you’ll have enough time before tomorrow to teach me how to break into it?”
I swallowed around the rock in my throat, staring down at the drill in my hand. When Ansel had been reviewing strategies with the other two, I had overheard him deciding roles for the group: Liam and Ansel would scale the wall while Demie stayed behind in the van to disable the cameras and be their getaway driver when they completed the mission.
If they completed the mission.
The odds were already stacked against them. If I could help increase their chances of survival in any way, then I was going to do it. I didn’t care if it meant going against the orc boss’s orders.
“That won’t be necessary.” I hesitated, glancing over at Ansel on the other side of the room. I lowered my voice, even though I knew there was no way he could hear me. “Because I’ll be hacking into the cameras myself.”
Demie’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, almost skimming his hairline. “And Ansel agreed to that?”
I chewed my lower lip. “Not exactly. I’m waiting for the right moment to bring it up.”
Demie squeezed my shoulder. “Well, let me know when you’re ready to teach me. As far as I’m concerned, nothing happens until the boss approves it,” he said, before sauntering away.
One problem at a time, I reminded myself. I still wasn’t sure if I could do it yet.
“Skye. It’s time for bed.”Ansel’s deep but gentle voice felt like a caress on my skin. I groaned into my arm, not ready to wake from my dream yet. Definitely not ready if my subconscious was planning to have Ansel guest star in said dream.
It wasn’t until I felt his big hand on my upper back, gently shaking me awake, that I realized his voice was coming from outside of dreamworld.
I slowly raised my head from the table, blinking until my blurry vision adjusted. “What time is it?” I swiped a hand across my chin in case there was any drool that had pooled there.
“It’s late. Demie and Liam have already gone to bed, and so should you. There will be time to show Demie how to hack tomorrow.”
“I’m still working.” I straightened in my seat, sliding the open laptop closer. I kept my head forward, avoiding his gaze, but I could see him standing in the periphery with a confused look on his face. I could feel his heat, and my body practically vibrated from having him this close. Specifically, having his bulge so close to my face. How was it possible to be so upset with someone and still want them to bend you over the table at the same time?
I shook my head a little, clearing my mind of any unwanted thoughts. Focus. I needed to focus.
“I thought you already finished everything you needed to?”
“There’s still a few kinks I need to work out . . .” I trailed off. I rubbed my finger against the sensory pad, the laptop screen waking back up. I had no doubt Ansel could see through my lie (he was annoyingly adept at reading my mind), but I was leaning heavily on my favorite coping mechanism of all—Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
He arched an eyebrow at me. Even if my fib was believable, he had watched me hack into the camera. After a couple failed attempts and lots of cursing under my breath, I managed to break into the cameras successfully and upload a frozen picture onto the feed. Once I had completed that task, I repeated the same scenario again and again as if I was running drills. I wanted to make sure I knew it so well that I could execute it in my sleep. I guess my subconscious had taken that challenge seriously, because during one of the drills, I had passed out in front of the computer.
“It’s time for bed, Skye.” He slowly closed the laptop shut.
I turned in my chair and lifted my chin to glare at him. “I said I’m not done. I just need more coffee.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. He didn’t look angry though, only hurt. “I can sleep on the couch if you need space.” His eyes drifted over the room before meeting mine again. “And I completely understand if you do,” he added in a strained voice.
He was acting like I was the one pushing him away, but it was Ansel who had drawn a very clean line in the sand. He had rejected me. I wanted to scoff, but the comment took me so off guard, I just stared at him in stunned silence. “No. No . . . Of course you’re not sleeping on the couch.”
He leaned against the table, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed. “We need to talk about what happened today.”
Why was he insisting on torturing me? He had made his intentions loud and clear. It was just a pity fuck. Everything up until this point—every word, every intimate moment—was just because he felt bad for me. It’s easy to develop feelings for someone when you’ve been abstaining from women for the past year, but with the mission less than twenty-four hours away, he had probably figured it was time to put a wrap on this whole façade.
