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His elbow slides off the wheel. “It isn’t like that.”
For the guy who sees everything, he’s pretty fucking oblivious.
“It’s like that for me.” We’re working around the clock, so Lilah’s asleep in her nest by the time we get home.
And I haven’t killed anyone this week.
I’m antsy as shit, and I can’t stop thinking about Lilah’s hair. How good it would feel tangled in my fist. I want to press my nose to her scalp, hold her close, and breathe in the scent that I know is gonna rock my world when she finally perfumes. “Whad’you think her scent will be? Maybe rain? Lightning storm?”
“Strawberries,” Hunter mutters.
Mmm.
I like where he’s going. I imagine licking a long line up Lilah’s neck. You know she’d taste like dessert. “Maple syrup? Fuck, imagine how she and Orion’ll taste together?”
Hunter hunches over the wheel like he can hide his monster bulge.
I lean back, putting my arms behind my head and showing off the package. My knot swells. Our omegas tangled, their scents and bodies and moans all wound up.
Yes, please.
Hunter scowls. “She’s not for us to play with.”
“Why not?” Lilah exists for playing.
All kinds of play.
Teasing. Biting. Stroking.
“Because she’ll hook you.”
Doubtful.
And anyway, why is that a problem?
I see how Orion looks at her. Lilah doesn’t have to be a problem.
She’s a gift. And fuck me, I’m going to unwrap her.
“There he is.” Hunter throws his focus back to the road, where the guy we’ve been following for hours steps onto the sidewalk with a goofy just-got-blown smile pulling his waxy lips.
A Redfang cobra tat peeks from his unbuttoned collar. I zero in on the spot as I reach for my gun. “Ten points if I hit a snake eye.”
“A hundred points if you stop talking.”
I shut up.
Points can be exchanged for nachos.
Hunter follows the dude from the wrong side of town to the condemned side of town, where he strolls up the steps to a boarded-up shack and ducks under a weather-aged strip of crime scene tape like he’s walking onto a yacht.
We may as well paint our van like the Mystery Machine because we couldn’t blend less if Hunter and I rocked out dressed as Daphne and Velma.
“I smell a trap.” I lick my lips, adrenaline pumping.
Fucking finally, this mission’s getting good.
“Atlas?” Hunter says into his com. “We’re compromised.”
