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Wherever she landed, I’m betting she found herself some crazy forest hideout with a bunker and steel blast doors.
No place I’d rather flee.
Stuck playing Serafina, I sit at the makeup table and slather on war paint until I’m gangster glam.
Fake lashes and thick eyeliner emphasize my green-eyed glint. I take down Serafina’s trademark pony and tease my hair into neck-hiding curls.
Although, if we’re at the point where my neck’s on display, I’ll be showing throat as a corpse.
Before squeezing into the lacy party dress, I slather foundation from shoulder to hairline, adding an extra layer of cover to my pheromones and scars.
I’m turning back and forth in the mirror, making sure every secret is zipped, locked, and painted over, when a soft knock sounds.
“Who is it?”
“Your drink.” The voice is muffled and male.
Definitely not Nikolaj.
It’s too velvet smooth.
Too warm.
My blood surges, instincts pinging a different flavor of danger.
The guy must be really pretty if his pheromones cut through hardwood.
But it’s not like I’ll be attracted.
Alpha, beta, omega.
Not counting childhood crushes, my body’s never once been moved.
Hoping for a target I can rope into an escape plan, I tense my real and fake pheromones and unlock the door.
I’d rather face a dozen drug kingpins than the lean, bearded alpha who dances from my fantasies into my dressing room.
My blood crystallizes, the entire world going slow and sluggish.
I tug the rope of my control, cutting off my scent before he responds to the stench.
Or worse.
Responds to Serafina’s lemon.
But I’m leashing my body so hard, I forget to stop my mouth. “Reese?”
Not in a jersey but a fitted suit.
Long, athletic lines.
Brown eyes, brown hair.
His nostrils work. Pupils widen. “You know my name?”
My shrinking ribs claw at my heart, tearing the ragged seams in my soul already ripped raw by Bishop and Jin.
I open my mouth to lie, to protect myself.
