One popular gossip blog was insistent that Leighton’s brother had rejected us because we’d been caught cheating on him with her. Apparently he’d been ‘devastated’ and ‘retreated to the suburbs to avoid reminders.’
That gossip blog was the same one that was confident Prey Nightingale and the Crimson Fury pack were carrying on a sordid affair under the guise of their public dispute.
If you’d ever met any of those actors, you’d know that was a crazy idea. They had the sexual chemistry of a bag of grapes.
I followed Leighton into the apartment without being invited. My pack was here and I doubted they were leaving until the situation was resolved. We kept our footsteps light as we wandered into the apartment, not wanting to wake anyone up.
Kiara was in the master suite, with Ambrose snoring on an armchair like a stationed bodyguard. My heart clenched.
How did he trust her to sleep in the same room as him?
Her knife glinted on the bedside table, inches from her outstretched hand.
I turned away, expecting Leighton to wander into the suite and shut the door behind her. She didn’t, instead following me out into the living room. Dash wasn’t here, but a light shone under the door to Leighton’s office, the gentle clacking of keystrokes easy to hear.
“I’m going to make some tea,” I said. “Assuming you’re not a heathen, and you keep tea bags handy.”
She rolled her eyes, nostrils flaring as she peered at the closed door. When she found out what Dash did with Kiara… I wanted to witness what she did to him, because it was probably going to be hot.
Fucking hell. Thoughts like that have no place in my head.
“Of course I do. Cupboard above the kettle. Make me a mug too, chamomile with a touch of honey.”
It was an order.
Why did an order to make her tea have my cock chubbing up in my pants?
I only subbed for Ambrose.
“Got it,” I said, clearing my throat and turning to the kitchen.
She strode across the living room to the office and I put on the kettle, ignoring my mild arousal in hopes that I could pretend it never existed.
Leighton was going to destroy us.
The best thing I could do for the pack was help her so we could all be off on our separate ways.
TWENTY-SIX
LEIGHTON
Dash had too much of Kiara’s scent on him. I’d caught it the second I opened up my senses, and I had a feeling he’d taken advantage of my temporary incarceration.
He better not have taken advantage of Kiara. I’d always considered myself a peaceful mediator, but I wasn’t above murder, after all.
I wanted to slam the door to my office open, but instead gently turned the knob and slipped inside. It was far past the middle of the night. I wouldn’t risk waking Kiara or angering my neighbours, who I imagined were less than pleased to be living next to someone who graced the New Oxford evening news with her arrest footage.
He was too focused on the computer screen to notice me. The website he was on looked like a database, and it looked official. His fingers tapped away at the keys, multiple windows popping up and vanishing again, some full of lines of code.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Dash didn’t answer.
I moved closer, assaulted by coconut and chocolate mixed with the chaos of his peachy spring rain scent. They’d been up close and personal. If he hadn’t wanted me to immediately find out, he should have at least showered.
“Dash,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder.
He jolted, swinging his head to look at me with wide eyes. “Fuck. Give a guy some warning.”
