by A. K. Koonce
He’s almost let me in. I’m almost a part of the team, but he’ll never trust me the way he trusts them. I swallow hard, wishing I knew the key to true friendship, wishing I had even a small amount of experience in that department.
His head dips low for only an instant before he shoves off the ground. The dark sky surrounds him, the sliver of moon gives little light to his shadowy features. His height is intimidating as he stands above me. Slowly, he extends his hand to me. Camilla’s name is pointed right at me as he offers to help me up. His palm is warm against my touch and when I stand, we’re chest to chest again, his palms pushing against his lean hips in a look of total confidence.
“Did you love her?” My mouth snaps shut and I wish like fuck I hadn’t just asked him that.
My eyes close slowly when a look of confusion settles into his gaze.
“Yeah, I loved her.” His confession is so simple it makes my lungs hurt when I breathe in a slow breath to calm my heart.
I don’t know why it hurts. Maybe because I’ll never know what that feels like; a consuming sort of feeling that makes us do stupid, reckless things. Like tattoo ‘Camilla’ in big, taunting letters across our skin.
“Camilla was my mother, Alexa.”
My lashes flutter, and when they open, he seems closer; not touching, but close enough to see every changing emotion within his eyes.
“She had cancer when I was in high school.” He pauses and there’s a quiet sound of a memory within his voice but the sadness is long gone. He’s entirely factual right now. Until his emotions break through. “I complained so much when I was younger about those stupid dance classes.” Regret is in his gaze as he looks out at the street lights, capturing the shine of them in his gray eyes.
My palm pushes over the back of his hand and he leans into that small touch.
An apology for his loss seems meaningless. Considering I too lost my mother, I know I’d hate for someone to tell me they were sorry. It’s such a meaningless thing to say to someone in mourning.
I don’t know what to say to him.
I never do.
“I think we should get you a dress tomorrow.” The force he puts into that statement shifts us entirely. He doesn’t want to talk about Camilla. And I understand that. “Since you ruined that red one Jameson so sweetly got for you.” The corner of his lips tilt into a smile but that heavy feeling of emotion is still swirling within me.
Casually, I pull my hand from his and try to find some sense of normalcy.
“Yeah. I’ll find one. Don’t worry.” I mentally run through all the places I could get a free dress. A shelter isn’t exactly going to have the most lavish gowns… I could steal it, but theft only brings unwanted attention…
“I want to take you. Tomorrow. We can grab lunch while we’re out too.”
In a weird way, that stiff statement almost feels like a date.
“Okay.” My arms fold over my chest, wishing I had something to do with my hands.
Does he really trust me? Or am I simply an outsider still?
A smile pulls wider against his lips and I still can’t find it in me to smile back at him.
“You don’t have to look so tense. It’s just a dress, Alexa.” He breathes out my name and the sound of it catches my attention as I nod.
It’s just a dress.
And I am just an asset.
I’m assuming most dates are a little more romantic than this, but I really have no idea. The door shakes loudly against its hinges as Tylin bangs on it for the third time.
“Almost done?” His timber is deep and echoing against the dressing room door.
I push my palms down the tight material of the white dress that’s clinging to my skin. It isn’t revealing. It’s… pretty. I guess. There’s a slice down the center of the top, revealing a teasing amount of my cleavage, while the smooth material slides down my body and whisks against the floor. It’s the last one I have to try on. The ten others that I tried on felt constricting and unflattering. This one’s just loose enough for a weapon underneath. Just sexy enough to feel comfortable. It’s so light it makes my skin appear warmer, my hair darker, my eyes brighter.
That makes it pretty, right?
My hands hang at my sides. Why am I so awful at ‘girling’?
Another harsh banging against the door and I tense from the startling sound of it.
I turn on my heels and fling open the door.
“You’re going to get us thrown out,” I hiss.
The anger within me simmers dully when I notice the astounded way he’s looking at me. Last time, when I wore the red dress, he looked at me like he wanted to eat me slowly. He said I was fucking hot.
He’s not looking at me like that now. I almost wish he was. Lustful looks I’m experienced with. This awe and silence, I don’t have a clue what to do with that.
“Please say something.” My gaze sweeps over the quiet boutique, over the billowing dresses hanging against the wall, the shining chandeliers; anywhere but at him.
“I guess it was worth the wait.” There’s a low and rumbling sound in his words that makes me blush so hard it burns against my cheeks.
Dammit.
I don’t know why there’s this awkwardness between us. I can stand nearly naked in front of Jameson and appraise every inch of Mason’s chest but I can’t seem to even make confident eye contact with Tylin.
Maybe it’s because he isn’t teasing when he says stuff like this to me. There’s no flirting smile, no subtle touches.
There’s only serious looks that burn right into me like he means every damn word he says. In a way, it feels forbidden to think about the fluttering feelings he gives me.
It’s like thinking smutty thoughts about my boss. My very sexy, very confident, very fuckable boss.
“Go change and I’ll meet you at the counter.” His dark eyes gleam as he trails down my frame once more.
I nod, turning on my heels without a word.
Once the door is closed and I step out of the dress, I can fully see the red flush that’s crept up my chest. The bright lighting of the dressing room is harsh and makes me all too aware of the crimson color of my cheeks.
“That’s fucking embarrassing.”
I shake my head, mentally scolding myself as I pull on my jeans and shirt. As I put the white dress back on the hanger, my finger catches against the small tag hanging inside.
The triple digit number halts me in my tracks, and for a moment, all I can do is blink at that outrageous price.
Who would spend nearly a thousand dollars on a gown? Why? Why would we spend that much on a dress? I can’t spend that much on clothes. Why would Tylin bring me here? How can he afford this?
The endless questions are still circling my mind as I carry the expensive gown up to the counter like it’s a precious, irreplaceable artifact ready to be displayed in a museum. I make sure to pull the tag out flat on the counter, even tapping my index finger against it once to pull Tylin’s attention to the asinine price tag.
He glances down at it but doesn’t seem to process the number. He certainly doesn’t give it the insulted look I gave it. The pretty cashier with far too much makeup smiles cheerily at us as if she isn’t about to rob us completely. The register beeps and chirps and the number goes up ever further when tax is added.
My head dips, trying to alert Tylin to this assaulting total that’s shining back at us in green digital numbers.
“Anything else for today?” Another perky smile is passed my way. Her name tag reads Susan in little cursive letters.
I don’t tell Susan how I really feel. I force myself not to appear defensive.
Tylin looks to me as well and they both seem to expect me to add even more to that total.
My hands raise as if I’m being attacked here. I can’t fucking believe this. Is he serious?
I hold his gaze as I grip a fist full of rings that are perfectly on display on counter. I set three of them at random in front of the woman and another se
ries of beeps signals another hundred dollars.
“That it?” The simple, careless statement is low and rumbling and it pisses me off entirely.
Once more, they look to me.
What the fuck kind of game is this?
One where Tylin is the only loser?
Without looking, I take a pair of dark sunglasses and sit it on top of my victory pile.
She happily rings it in and the two of them have the balls to look to me once again. I blink at Tylin, glancing to the intolerable number before looking back to him. The smallest hint of a smile pulls at his lips but he never says a word.
I look over the inventory on display on our little white counter. One makeup palette, two shades of Charming Cherry lipstick, a glittering watch, shoe polish, some sort of cuppy things that go into my bra, invisible tape that I have no idea where it’s even supposed to go, a brooch that not even the Queen of England would appreciate, and even some overpriced but elaborately wrapped candy that I think the guys will like is thrown onto the pile.
And still he doesn’t look once at that fucking total.
“Anything else?”
“No. No. There’s nothing else, Susan. Thank you.” My jaw clenches and I’m nearly fuming over this entire experience.
To top it off, he pays in crisp one hundred-dollar bills.
I storm out of the pretty boutique and Tylin carries every one of my bags as we walk. I try my best to let us walk in silence. I try so hard.
His chest hits my back, the bags tangling around my thighs as I turn to confront him.
“How do you have that much money?” It’s the worst question I’ve ever heard anyone ask aloud. I can’t believe I actually asked him that, but I literally couldn’t stop myself.
The morning sunlight makes his dark eyes almost black as he stares down on me. A few women pass us by, and I almost shout a word of warning as they enter the pricy boutique we just left.
“We have jobs, Alexa.” The ghost of a smile is in his features, not allowing him a look of real happiness but making his sharp features appear softer and kind. “We have a name for ourselves. We’ve used our skills from the League and we track people. Mouse is insanely good at finding missing persons; people who have skipped town, people who don’t want to be found. We have real jobs.”
“So you’re a law abiding, tax paying citizen now?”
His dark brows pull together.
“Don’t be silly. You can’t tax an assassin.” He winks at me, still clinging to that look of seriousness.
A smile pulls at my lips. I love when his serious side slips away. When he leans closer to me, his stomach hard against my body, my smile falters, replaced by a consuming sense of senselessness.
“Maybe after everything settles down for a bit, we could teach you how to be an almost respectable citizen as well.”
Fuck, my little fluttering emotions are doing that thing again. I swallow hard and hope like hell he’s not making me blush.
I think… I think he trusts me.
I can’t tell if that’s what I really want or not.
Twenty-Five
Sex Between Friends
Another round of training with Rory has my body aching and my limbs too tired to even stand. He was just as polite to me as he was before. Barely at all, that is.
It’s late. Tomorrow is the day. It’s what we’ve all been working for; them more than me, I suppose.
The television is bright and flashes light across the dark living room walls. I quietly make my way to the couch. Tylin sits in a beige chair, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, legs spread wide as he sleeps. Jameson sits in a similar position at the end of the couch. Mason walks by me and his palm skims against the back of my hand as he passes me a smile. He doesn’t speak, not even a word of hello, but he glances back at me once more before he leaves.
The music of the movie becomes ominous as lightning flashes around the house, revealing a man with a knife lurking in the darkness of a woman’s bedroom.
I settle in at Jameson’s side, letting his smooth arm brush against mine. A bowl of popcorn is in his lap and I steal a piece before he even offers. The saltiness hits my tongue and I’m suddenly eyeing his water bottle as he takes the lid off. Just as it meets his lips, I steal it away too. A wide smile pulls over his lips as he watches me chug all of his nice cold water.
A beat passes as I happily take another bite of popcorn. When I look up, he’s still looking at me and I slowly shove the popcorn into my mouth in the most unladylike way.
“You’re friend zoning me, aren’t you?” His arm moves to the back of the couch, touching my hair but not my body.
I don’t know why I suddenly wish he was touching me.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He’s still smirking, but it feels different now.
“We kissed, but it wasn’t really a kiss. You kissed me back, but it was for your powers, not for you.” He pauses for only a moment before continuing his rambling. “Sometimes, I think you’re flirting with me, and sometimes, I think you’re just tolerating me. And now, right now, I feel like you’re big brothering me.” I shake my head at him. “People tolerate me a lot, Lex, I know what it feels like.”
I don’t know why his last statement twists my stomach. I always pictured him as the golden boy without a care in the world. Maybe he does care what everyone thinks.
Maybe he cares what I think.
His fingers start to twist through the ends of my hair and his attention is held there for a moment. A sinking feeling drops through my stomach. I remember how douchie he seemed when we first met. He isn’t douchie, he’s just… different.
“I’m not big brothering you, Jameson.”
“So you can, hypothetically, imagine us having sex?” He cocks a pale brow at me and I have to look away from him as the hulking outline of his dick flashes through my mind.
“No. No I can’t.”
He nods slowly and I realize I just accidently confirmed what he was saying. My lips part as I start to back track slightly.
“I can’t imagine it because your dick… is fucking terrifying.” I keep my gaze locked on the screen, choosing to watch the killer rather than the man at my side who I just confessed to.
Honestly, I’ve been with big guys before, but I’m starting to wonder if the thing in his pants could be considered a weapon really.
“My dick terrifies you?” He leans closer to me, his chest pressing to my arm.
“It’s nightmarish.” I snuggle into his side and his arm wraps around my shoulder as the serial killer on the television starts his slow stalking toward his now screaming victim. “Your dick’s the Freddy Krueger of cocks.”
His body shakes with laughter, skimming all through me with the delicious humming sound.
“Mmm, is that so?”
“Yes. It’s insulting. Hard to look directly at. Murderous during sex. Total Freddy Krueger of cocks.” I love the sound of his laughter. It blooms into my chest, spreading happiness right into me.
The smile against his mouth skims over my neck and his lips press there only once. A shiver shakes through me as I tilt my head for him.
His tone is rasping as he speaks against my ear. “It’s all about control. I promise it’s not a scary as it looks, Lex.” His lips press to my throat once more, making my lashes nearly close. Warm fingers sneak beneath my shirt, skimming lightly against my skin.
I’m faintly aware of the murderous screaming coming from the television.
Another victim has fallen prey.
My gaze locks with his, the slashing flickering of light makes his hooded eyes a stormy color of blue. The heated look in his eyes lowers to my lips just as his head tilts closer. There’s barely any space between him and I.
And yet, there’s enough for Mason to lean in between us. A smirk is against his mouth as he glances from me to Jameson, his hands resting against the back of the couch as he leans over us.
“Rory gave me an update on your trai
ning and I wanted to go over the layout with you before tomorrow.” His low tone holds amusement as he watches me pull back from Jameson.
“Yeah.” A breathless sound of a word falls from my lips and I start to nod profusely like a total idiot.
“Yeah?” Mason bites his lip as he passes his friend a look once more. “I can come back, but I didn’t think you’d be too busy with Tylin watching.”
I follow his gaze to find Tylin staring right at me, clearly awake. Not sleeping like he’d appeared only minutes before.
My eyes close slowly.
“Nope. I’m completely ready. My mind is one hundred percent teamwork right now. Go team,” I add in the most ridiculous cheer I’ve ever said in my entire life.
“She was totally just talking about Jameson’s monster cock right before you walked in,” Tylin says, his gaze unflinching as the killer slaughters the woman on her kitchen floor in a mess of blood and screams. Ignoring the screen, I hope the low light of the living room covers the pink hue tinging my cheeks as I realize how much Tylin heard… and saw.
Why are they all so infuriating? Not that I can refute Tylin’s statement. I shake my head and unfold myself from my spot on the couch, leaving only a warm imprint on the cushion for Jameson to cuddle with. Standing quickly, I round the couch, heading for the stairs. I pass Mason not saying a word to anyone to get myself into further trouble.
“Goodnight, Hart.” Tylin smirks at me from his comfortable perch. He sits like a king on a throne instead of the asshole he is on a simple upholstered chair. A sexy, sometimes sweet asshole… but an asshole nonetheless.
I throw a small wave over my shoulder without a backward glance, and leave the room. If I could be any more awkward right now.
Mason trails quietly behind me as I make my way upstairs. In complete silence, he closes the door behind us and starts to verbally tell me the layout of the church even when I start to undress down to my underwear. He watches my every move as I pull on a clean shirt and climb into bed. I’m processing his words and he’s not pressing me to pay more attention, but I really am pretty checked out for the day.