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“Fuck,” I whisper, pushing my hair back from my face and then clenching my hands into fists as I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.
My sex throbs between my legs, my panties so slick inside that there’s no way to deny what I was just dreaming, but I’ll be damned if I shove my hand down there to finish myself off. It was terrifying enough when Logan actually came to my room with a knife, and while I won’t lie to myself and say I’m not attracted, I’m still equally afraid of him.
The only explanation I have for letting myself go like that in a dream is Dante. He got me too worked up in the bathroom, but even if he doesn’t scare me the same way Logan’s inner darkness does, dwelling too much on what he does make me feel is just as terrifying in an entirely different way.
There’s no way I’m risking going back to sleep, not with my core still pulsing with an unfulfilled ache that I can far too easily imagine any of the three Reapers under this roof satisfying for me, so I decide to go down and find some breakfast. It’s early enough that I’m not actually hungry, but staying in the bed I now have such vivid images of getting fucked in isn’t going to do me any favors, so I throw on a robe and head downstairs.
To my surprise, I’m not the only one up this early.
My steps stutter when I reach the kitchen. Maddoc is sitting at the counter with a plate of eggs and a tablet in front of him, and when he looks up and sees me, we both freeze. I haven’t been alone, inherewith him, since he fucked me and I shot him… and with my body still primed for the kind of relief I’m just not going to get this morning, the memory of both those things slams into me like a freight train.
Maddoc’s expression shudders as he gestures to a cell phone sitting on the counter. “That’s for you. It’s got the number I gave Frank, so if he needs to reach you, he can.”
With that, he looks back down at his tablet, calmly taking a bite of his eggs like he’s not affected by those memories at all. For a second, I’m so goddamn angry that he’s ignoring me that I want to shoot him all over again.
Then I get my shit together and realize it’s for the best, so I just snatch up the new phone and then walk past him to get my own breakfast.
I pour some juice into a glass, not quite ready for coffee yet, and pluck an apple out of the fruit bowl, stealing another glance at Maddoc while I do. He looks rough. Stressed the fuck out, and like he didn’t get enough sleep.
Or maybe not any.
I crunch a bite of the apple, the hot blast of anger settling into something a lot more dangerous as I watch him.
I should not care about this man, so I tell myself I don’t, but I can see how much everything is weighing on him. I can’t pretend I don’t know by now what kind of leader he is, and how hard Troy’s death has hit him. Not justwhathappened to Troy, but that it happened on Maddoc’s watch. That he wasn’t able to stop it and still hasn’t avenged it.
He glances up at me.
“How’s your shoulder?” I blurt.
“Why?” he asks dryly, looking back down at whatever it is on his tablet that he’s so engrossed in. “Regretting that your shot went wide?”
I bite back a sharp reply but I narrow my eyes at him. Asshole. Was I seriously just emoting for the man?
When he looks up at me again, I hold his gaze and take another bite of the apple, imagining it’s his ball sac.
Maddoc laughs, then widens his eyes like the sound startled him. He looks back down at his tablet. “It’s healing.”
He eats some more of his eggs and I finish the apple, then before I can second guess myself I pour a second glass of juice and take both over to the counter Maddoc’s sitting at.
I slide one in front of him and take a seat on the stool to his left.
“Did Logan send you what we came up with?” I ask, nodding toward his tablet.
Maddoc looks at me like he’s trying to suss out my angle, but I’m not even sure I have one right now, and after a moment he obviously comes to the same conclusion.
He sighs and finally puts the tablet down. “Yeah, he did.”
“But that’s not what kept you up all night,” I guess, resisting the urge to reach over and rub some of the tension out of his shoulders.
Maddoc shakes his head. “That shit with Troy…”
He lets the thought trail off, reaching for his juice.
“Do you really think it was about Chloe?”
He hesitates, but then nods. “Yeah, but not just about Chloe. We’ve got a lot of history with them, and they’re getting more aggressive all around.”
“But… why?”
