Page 10 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

Miley

I’m supposed to be paying attention right now, absorbing the intricacies of media ethics from Professor Lancaster’s dry, droning lecture.

I’m supposed to be taking thorough notes to study from later since he’s notorious for giving random pop quizzes.

I’m supposed to be doing literally anything other than zoning out and wasting the precious few days of freedom I’ve got left obsessing over the future, yet here I am, trapped in my own spiraling thoughts.

God.

I scrub a hand over my face and refocus on the laptop screen in front of me, where my notes are a garbled mess of half-formed sentences. Not exactly ideal for studying, but honestly, they mirror the chaos in my head a little too well.

Nobody would know from outward appearances, but I’ve been slowly unraveling since the perusal.

I keep acting like I’m fine, but I’m not.

Far from it. It was easy to keep my head down and obey when being paired off was just an abstract idea, but now that it’s a reality, everything inside me is screaming in rebellion.

I acted on those defiant urges the other night, but it’s now been three days since Ares Raines kissed me like I belonged to him; three days since I swiped my v-card at his register in some foolish attempt at grasping for freedom.

Two days since that awkward breakfast where I told him I was spoken for and he declared that he was going to pursue me anyways, yet I haven’t seen the guy since.

Typical male .

I can’t be mad when it’s the reason I chose him in the first place.

I wasn’t looking for some fairytale prince to swoop in and save me.

I wanted a distraction– a reckless, beautiful mistake I could call my own– and in that sense, mission accomplished.

He served his purpose. So why is Ares Raines still taking up real estate in my mind?

The clock at the front of the room finally ticks over to 11:45, and Professor Lancaster closes his ancient leather binder with a decisive snap. “Next class, we’ll continue our discussion on freedom of speech in the press,” he announces with finality. “Don’t forget your required reading.”

Chairs scrape back, backpacks zip. Everyone floods toward the doors of the lecture hall like they’ve been trapped in here for hours– which we have, sort of. I linger, making no move to join the crowd.

What’s even the point in continuing to attend my classes?

By the end of next week, my life will be unrecognizable. I’ll be in a new city, part of a new pack, and most terrifying of all, I’ll have a new mate.

Elias Burke .

Even the thought of his name makes my skin crawl, the memory of those cold, soulless eyes setting my teeth on edge. Being paired with someone like him feels like a death sentence.

I take my time shoving my laptop and notebooks into my messenger bag, slinging it over my shoulder and heading out with a muttered goodbye to a classmate I barely know.

Doubt any of them will notice when I stop showing up for classes.

Nine more days, and I’ll disappear from here like a ghost, never to be seen again.

The sun is blinding as I step outside, warm and golden across the quad. I squint into it as I start down the sidewalk, only to freeze mid-step when I catch a familiar figure in my peripheral vision.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Ares is leaning against the brick wall just outside the building with one leg kicked up and his thick forearms crossed casually over his chest, the only person on campus not in a rush to get somewhere. The sunlight hits his hair, turning it a fiery copper, and his dark eyes find mine instantly.

My stomach does an annoyingly traitorous little flip.

He grins and pushes off from the wall, walking toward me with the kind of slow, confident swagger that should be illegal .

“Hey Miley,” he drawls, eyes flickering over my form appreciatively.

I don’t return the greeting, frowning back at him. “What are you doing here, Ares?”

“Thought maybe you’d want to grab lunch between classes,” he says, like it’s a totally normal thing for someone I barely know to suggest.

My brow lifts. “Who says I’m not already late for my next class?”

“Because I sweet-talked the Registrar’s office into giving me a peek at your schedule,” he replies, smirking like he’s proud of himself.

I blink. “You what ?”

“Told them I was your boyfriend,” he shrugs. “Said I was planning a big surprise for you.”

My mouth falls open. “You lied to a university department and got them to give you my private information?” I scoff disbelievingly.

His smirk deepens. “Don’t worry. I was very charming.”

My lip twitches with reluctant amusement. “I’m going to have a very long conversation with them about releasing student info to stalkers ,” I mutter, pivoting away from him and starting down the sidewalk.

“C’mon,” Ares laughs, catching up quickly and falling into step beside me. “I went through all that trouble, the least you could do is agree to let me take you to lunch.”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

“Still no.”

His eyes flick toward me, a playful smile creeping across his lips. “There’s this cupcake place two blocks over…”

I hesitate.

Dammit.

He sees it, that cocky grin spreading across his face in full force.

I tighten my grip around the strap of my messenger bag, an irritating swoop of something fluttering in my stomach, like my instincts haven’t yet figured out how to override the responses they should be hard-wired to ignore.

“Thought I told you I was spoken for,” I snap, whirling to face him .

“And I thought I told you I didn’t care,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

I huff out a breath, glancing away like I’m annoyed. Which I am. Mostly.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“Maybe.” He wets his lips with his tongue, gaze raking down my body with unfiltered appreciation. “But I can think of worse ways to go.”

My breath catches. Not because of the line– though it’s delivered with enough heat to melt chocolate– but because some ridiculous part of me actually enjoys this.

The snappy back-and-forth, the way he matches me word for word.

Nobody’s ever done that before, and I hate how easily Ares Raines has already gotten under my skin.

I shake my head as I turn away and keep walking. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he chuckles as he falls into step with me again, effortlessly keeping pace. “C’mon, sweetheart. You know you want a cupcake…”

I do , which is why I already know I’m two seconds from giving in. My sweet tooth is my ultimate weakness, and Ares has already figured out how to exploit it.

I sigh, long and loud, before glaring at him out of the corner of my eye. “Fine,” I mutter. “But only if you promise to leave me alone after.”

“No promises,” he says with a wink.

I should walk away, should ignore the thrum of anticipation beneath my skin and the way his voice settles into the pit of my stomach like gravity.

But instead, I let him steer me toward the bakery, Ares matching my quick strides with a leisurely gait that’s somehow as insistent as everything else about him.

Because maybe, just for now, I’ll allow myself one more sweet, stupid mistake.

Even if I already know it’s going to cost me.

The cupcake shop smells like heaven when we walk in.

The space is cozy and bright, the walls painted a soft pastel pink that speaks to my inner girly-girl.

Warm vanilla, powdered sugar, and something vaguely cinnamon-spiced ignites my senses, and I swear I feel my pupils dilate, my mouth watering automatically as my eyes dart to the display case where an array of perfectly frosted cupcakes are lined up like tiny works of art .

I step up to the counter, already scanning the daily specials written in curvy script on a chalkboard: salted caramel, raspberry almond, chocolate hazelnut, lemon lavender.

My stomach makes a soft little growl as I weigh my options carefully.

Ares comes up behind me and leans in close, just enough that I can feel the heat of him at my back and register his frustratingly alluring scent.

Great. Just what I need to ruin this sacred cupcake moment.

A door opens from the back and out walks the shop girl, Callie’s eyes lighting up with recognition when she sees me.

“Miley!” she greets, breaking into a friendly smile. “Hey, girl. We’ve missed you lately!”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment as Ares moves to stand beside me, bumping my elbow with his. “Come here often?”

Before I can throw a sarcastic reply his way, Callie laughs and chimes in.

“Oh, yeah. Miley’s one of our best customers,” she remarks, giving me a pointed once-over. “Don’t know where she puts it.”

I force a tight smile, but internally, I’m cringing.

This is exactly why we’re warned about frequenting human-owned businesses too often.

People start to pick up on things– like how shifter metabolism burns through trash like a furnace.

I could eat three cupcakes a day and still have abs. Not that I do , but I could .

Ares, of course, is absolutely loving this. The man seems to thrive off getting a rise out of me.

“So, oh-great-Patron-of-Pastries,” he croons, grinning like an idiot. “Got a recommendation?”

I point at the display, hoping the red in my cheeks has gone down enough to pass as a side effect of the warmth in here. “Raspberry almond. It’s filled with jam and has this almond creme frosting that’ll ruin every other dessert you’ve ever had.”

He arches a brow. “And what are you getting?”

“Chocolate hazelnut,” I reply immediately. “And I don’t share.”

“Neither do I,” he murmurs, his double-entendre obvious as his eyes drop down my figure, tongue tracing the edge of his lip.

My body betrays me, a needy throb flaring low in my abdomen and heat licking through my veins. Because even though Ares Raines is the worst, I’m drawn to him on some biological level. My head is saying no, but the insistent pulse between my thighs is saying hell yes .

I do my best to ignore his presence as we place our order– two cupcakes, two waters– and take them to a tiny round table in the corner. I avoid making eye contact as I sit down, unwrapping my cupcake and pulling a fork from the little dispenser on the table.

Ares gapes at me in disbelief as I go about my usual routine.

“You’re using a fork?” he questions, furrowing his brow.

“I’m not a savage,” I reply, daintily slicing into the perfectly frosted dome of my cupcake.

He chuckles softly as he leans back in his chair, his own cupcake sitting untouched on the table in front of him. “No, you’re the perfect pack princess, aren’t you?” he muses.

I snort a laugh, rolling my eyes. “If you say so.” I fight the urge to moan around my bite of cupcake, the sugary sweetness slipping over my tongue.

“So,” he says, watching my every move with that frustratingly intense gaze. “About the mating thing…”

I stop chewing, his words ripping me from my blissful dessert distraction.

“Still happening?” he asks, cocking his head.

I set my fork down, leveling him with a stare. “I don’t have a choice.”

A beat of silence settles between us, and for once, he doesn’t try to fill it with a joke or deflect with a one-liner. I pick up my fork and slice off another bite of my cupcake.

“That sucks,” he sighs, his tone surprisingly sincere.

I nod. “That’s the system.”

“And you’re okay with that?” he questions dubiously.

“Does it matter?” I ask around another bite of cupcake.

His eyes darken, jaw tensing. “It should.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just avert my eyes and focus on eating my dessert, letting the sugary richness distract me from the tightening in my chest.

Ares isn’t from around here, so he doesn’t know how far Alpha’s power truly extends.

If he did, he wouldn’t even be sitting across from me right now.

He definitely wouldn’t be chasing me after I told him I’m spoken for.

The fact that he’s still trying to forge some sort of connection after I’ve tried to warn him off means he’s either fearless or just plain stupid.

I make quick work of polishing off the rest of my cupcake, and when I look up, Ares is still staring at me with that same dark intensity. It’s such a departure from his annoying cheerfulness that it gives me pause, my stomach swooping.

“You’re not eating?” I ask, motioning toward his cupcake with my fork.

He shrugs, pushing it across the table toward me in offering. “You can have it.”

I eye him suspiciously. “Aren’t you hungry?”

His lips curve into a slow grin. “Sure, but I’d rather slide under the table and eat something else.”

I nearly choke, the fork slipping from my fingers and clattering against the tabletop. “You’re disgusting,” I bite out, cheeks burning as I glare back at him.

He just barks a laugh, completely unbothered and enjoying every second of my flustered horror. “Don’t act like you’re not thinking about it.”

“I’m not,” I insist, though I definitely am now .

Damn him.

I finish his cupcake in three savage bites just to spite him, then push up from the table and sling my bag over my shoulder. “I have to get to class.”

He rises with me, all easy confidence. “Oh yeah? Broadcasting class?”

My head whips around so fast I almost give myself whiplash. “What, did you memorize my schedule?”

“I have a photographic memory,” he says innocently.

“Lucky me,” I mutter. “Don’t make me file a complaint with campus security. You’re not a student here, so you shouldn’t be prowling around like a creep.”

With that, I spin on my heel and walk out of the shop, refusing to look back.

Because if I do, I might start hoping he’ll follow me again.

And I really don’t need any trouble in the form of a six-foot-six Alphahole with the name of a Greek god and a perfect fucking smirk.