Page 205 of Unmarked
I shift under the blankets, every muscle sore like I spent the weekend hiking with bricks strapped to my thighs.
My skin’s sticky in places it shouldn’t be. My scent is a mix of pheromones, shame, and what I can only describe as alpha-marinated.
And I am wearing Lucian’s damn shirt again, which has officially crossed the line from sexy to swampy.
I groan, peeling it away from my back.
“Okay. I’m a biohazard.”
I sit up, ignoring the various noises my joints make like they’re trying to unionize.
Another shower will help. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
Either way, it’s happening before I lose all human dignity.
When I finally step out, I feel more like myself. Sore, tired, a little hollow, sure; butme.Like a crime scene that’s been scrubbed, though the chalk outline’s still visible.
I tug on a clean shirt, tugging at the hem as it falls to my mid-thigh.
And then, because I apparently have zero survival instinct, I go looking for them.
There’s no handle from this side of the door; only a smooth, matte panel embedded into the wall beside it.
I stare at it.
Right. Because this place isn’t creepy at all.
Still… something about it feels obvious.
Obvious enough that I’m meant to figure it out.
I press my palm flat against the panel, and a softclickanswers me - mechanical and smooth - followed by a quiet hiss as the door seal releases.
I blink.
That was… suspiciously easy.
Still, I don’t hesitate. I slip into the corridor and let the door fall shut behind me.
The house is too quiet, tooclean. Every surface polished, every corner squared.No scuff marks. No fingerprints.
Just money, power, and a whole lot of unsettling calm.
I step into the hallway, the sound of their voices tugging at something low in my chest.
Bond-related? Self-destructive tendencies? Who can say?
I creep forward. I’m not spying exactly. I’m… doing recon.
I stop halfway down the hall, not too far from the sitting room entrance. Their voices are sharper now - clipped, heated, low and tense.
Theo. Ash. Kai.
And Lucian.
I lean in just enough to hear more clearly - so consumed in their own bickering that they don’t even sense my presence.
Typical.
