Instead of releasing her immediately, he seemed to freeze as if at war with himself. Was this about his ‘instincts’ again? Could he not let her go because it would feel like she was running and trigger his need to chase her?
She ought to have laughed at such an absurd notion, but instead, she felt the need to reassure him.
“I’ll be right back,” she repeated. “I promise.”
She looked into his narrowed eyes and relaxed every muscle in her body so he would know she had no intention of escaping. Having her pliant in his arms seemed to lessen his tension, and after a long moment, he finally released her.
She smiled, pleased with his acquiescence even though it made no damn sense. None of this did. He wasn’t some alpha wolf in a mating ritual. He was just a man, and human men didn’t have feral instincts. The idea was ludicrous.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling, and she wanted him to trust her. Stepping over to the table she’d set for dinner, she tugged one of the lily flowers out of the bouquet in the center.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, holding out the blossom. A token of her promise.
His expression was intense as he accepted her gift. She had no idea what she was doing or why this was so important, but it didn’t matter. She waited until she found what she was looking for in his gaze—a look of acceptance instead of distrust—and then hurried down the hall to answer the door.
6
Know Your Enemy
He’s here and everything’s fine. You don’t have to hang around if you don’t want to.
Iris Donovan wasn’t going anywhere. She’d insisted on staying close by during her sister’s date, and she wasn’t changing her mind. Lily called her paranoid, but she had a damn good reason to be—even if her twin didn’t know it.
Since the day they’d left Ireland, she’d made it her mission to continue her parents’ work and keep herself and her sister safe. The guilt of lying ate her up inside, but she didn’t see a way out. She was in too deep to go back now.
So, she parked her arse on a swing in the park at the end of Lily’s block, slapped her headphones over her ears, and got busy getting fired up to the best band of all time: Rage Against the Machine. Hood up, head down, she loitered in the park like a regular juvenile delinquent.
She was a chick with blue hair and tattoos who liked angry music.
Call her cliché—she didn’t give a fuck.
All she knew was that Rage made her feel invincible. Listening to them made her feel like she could launch fire from her fingertips and chop the heads off demons. She would be forever grateful to that band for giving her the strength to get through some pretty dark shit in her life.
Her phone buzzed in her hand with another text from Lily.Btw, what’s the ward you put above my door supposed to do?
Immediately, Iris’s heart started pounding, and her anxieties went spiraling. Why would Lily be asking that right now? She tensed to leap from the swing and rush to her sister’s rescue but stopped and forced herself to think rationally.
She needed to chill. She was riding a fine line with her overprotectiveness, and if she pushed too hard, at some point her twin would start pushing back. And maybe Lily was just asking out of curiosity. Her sister’s instincts were good. If she was concerned, she would have said something.
It’s a signal ward that warns you if you’re in the presence of supernatural beings, Iris texted back.Why are you asking that right now?
Pleased with her reasonable response, she decided to give Lily five minutes to reply before she freaked out. So she cranked up Rage again and tried to relax.
A moment later, the sharp scent of cigarette smoke snagged her attention. She was always on her guard, so, without changing her position on the swing, she paused the music to listen to her surroundings.
Peeking around the edge of her hood, she saw a guy making his way across the park towards her. Clad in a baggy tank top and high-top Nikes, a backwards hat on his head, he looked as much of a delinquent as she did. Somewhere in her mind, the part of her that dwelled on deep shit wondered how much of it was an act for him too.
He stopped under the glow of a streetlamp, and she got her first proper look at him in the light. Her eyes widened in appreciation.
Damn, he was built. And he was covered in tattoos. Not just his arms, or even the odd bold one on his neck or hand.Covered.Every available inch of his skin. Even half of his face.
It was fucking hot.
The sound of a tinny phone speaker exploding with angry hip-hop suddenly filled the night, and she smiled to herself. A man of fine taste, evidently. He balanced his cigarette between sexy lips—made sexier by the snake-bite piercings on the lower—and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
She pretended to be busy on her own phone so the stranger wouldn’t think she was eavesdropping if he looked over. For some reason, it was important that she overheard what he said on the phone. Or maybe it was just because the guy was fine as hell and she didn’t get out enough.
She wasn’t going to approach him or anything—she wasn’t looking to date or even hook up. Lord knew she needed a break from men after finally cutting Antoine out of her life. She’d only just gotten her flat back, and poor Grimalkin was still traumatized from their break-up fight.
