Page 20 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

Ares

It’s been a long time since I’ve actually looked forward to going home at the end of the day.

Hell, back in Colorado, I did everything I could to avoid it– closed down bars, crashed at other people’s places, filled the silence with strangers and noise.

I like having my own space in theory, but an empty apartment?

That shit gets bleak fast. I’m built for motion, conversation, connection.

Not silence and solitude. I never felt lonely before moving here, but that’s exactly what almost every night in this city has been– fucking lonely .

So yeah, the idea of coming home to someone sounds pretty damn good. I can’t wait to kick my boots off, crack open a beer, and annoy the hell out of my new ‘mate’.

The second I step through the door, I’m immediately struck by how much the apartment has changed; every cold, impersonal inch overtaken by Miley.

She’s been busy.

The boring stock art has been replaced with vintage prints of classic Hollywood starlets. The shelves are packed with books, spines worn and loved. The whole place smells of vanilla and freesia– her signature scent– and something sweet, like… birthday cake ?

Hold up, did she bake ?

I follow the smell into the kitchen and spot a flickering candle on the counter.

Not cake, just ambiance . I chuckle under my breath as I move toward the refrigerator, noticing all the little touches she’s added along the way.

Floral tea towels, a stack of cookbooks, and a frilly pink apron hanging from a hook beside the stove. Cute .

I open the fridge on autopilot and grin when I see the beer from my downstairs stash neatly lined up on the top shelf.

Good to know she has her priorities straight.

I grab one and head for the living room, still clocking every little change in the scenery.

Throw pillows, a salt lamp… even a damn plant on the windowsill.

A real one. But the best part of this place, hands down, is the girl snuggled up on the couch.

Miley’s wearing some silky pajama set that I’m pretty sure was designed to ruin men, her legs bare and a soft pink blanket tossed over her lap like an afterthought.

Her hair’s piled up in a loose bun, eyes glued to the pages of a beat-up paperback.

A lollipop stick juts out from between her lips, and the coffee table beside her is a war zone of wrappers and candy.

So this is who she really is underneath all the primp and polish: a sugar-addicted bookworm.

I just stand there for a second, staring like an idiot, soaking in the domesticity of the scene. Memorizing the way Miley looks when she’s completely relaxed and in her element.

“Damn,” I murmur, finally kicking off my boots and making my way over. “Is this what you get up to when I’m not around? Sugar binges and trashy romance novels?”

She turns a page with one slender finger, eyes still glued to her book. “Why would you assume it’s a trashy romance novel?”

“Isn’t it?” I tease.

Her silence says it all. I chuckle to myself as I flop down on the opposite end of the couch, popping the cap off my beer. Miley tucks her legs in to create more distance between us, a little crease of annoyance forming between her brows.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” I remark, bringing the beer bottle to my lips and taking a swig.

“You’re home late,” she says, voice flat.

“Yeah, your dad put me to work on a protection detail. Had to tail one of his runners all over the damn city.”

She grunts in disapproval, flipping a page. “Kill anyone?”

“Not today,” I quip, taking another sip of beer and wiping my mouth. “But if you have a moral objection to my occupation, then by all means, take it up with your old man. Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did. ”

Miley finally looks up from her book, pulling the lollipop from her mouth. “Meaning?” she asks, cocking a brow.

“I told him I wanted to take you to Colorado, but he shut it down. Said the only way to get out of my contract is if someone else from home takes my place, which isn’t happening. So… plan B. whatever the hell that is.”

“Wait,” she breathes, wrinkling her nose. “Who said I wanted to go to Colorado?”

I blink. “I didn’t think you’d have an objection, considering how limited our options are.”

She narrows her eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

“This again?” I sigh, kicking up a leg to rest on the coffee table. “You can’t stay mad at me forever, you know. And you’ve gotta admit, living with me has its perks.”

She snorts a laugh. “Name one.”

“I’m great at opening jars,” I reply, grinning. “Above average at back rubs. Ridiculously good company.”

“You forgot professional liar,” she amends.

“Gotta love a man with versatility, right?” I wink.

Miley rolls her eyes hard, shoving her lollipop back between her lips and dropping her gaze to her book again.

I chuckle to myself as I take another swig of beer, leaning back against the cushions and settling in to watch her read.

She toys with the stem of her lollipop, swirling it around in her mouth, tongue flicking against the candy as her eyes move across the page.

She has to know what that does to a guy, but she’s clearly intent on torturing me.

“So, what are you reading?” I murmur when I can’t take it anymore.

Miley huffs an annoyed sigh, closing the book with her thumb to mark the page and twisting it around to show me the cover. It must be some sort of highlander romance, judging by the picture of a half-naked guy in a kilt.

I arch a brow. “Does he have a name, or should I just call him your boyfriend?”

“You can call him better than you,” she replies sassily, re-opening the book and lowering it to her lap.

“In bed? Highly doubt that.” I lean forward to set my empty beer bottle on the coffee table, shifting a little closer, knuckles brushing her calf. “But if you want to put it to the test… ”

“Ares,” she growls in warning.

“What?” I chuckle, letting my hand trail higher. “Let me take care of my mate.”

Her breath hitches as sparks bloom between our skin. “You’re not my mate,” she grumbles, kicking my hand away.

“Your pack thinks I am.”

“So?” she huffs, growing adorably flustered.

“So, we wouldn’t be breaking any rules,” I reply, voice dropping lower as I reach out to skim my palm up her leg. “Just slip those shorts off and let me get a taste, babe.”

She kicks my hand away once more, lips twisting in a scowl. But for as much as she’s resisting, there’s no mistaking the scent of her arousal permeating the air between us. She wants this as badly as I do– she’s just too damn stubborn to admit it.

“Why is everything about sex with you?” she huffs, fighting the blush rising to her cheeks.

I shrug. “Can’t help it. You’ve got your vices, I’ve got mine.”

She quirks a brow, and I gesture to the candy carnage spread across the coffee table.

“My sisters brought that over,” she snaps defensively.

“Uh huh.”

“They did. They dropped by earlier to see the place.”

“Which sisters?”

She frowns. “You really don’t believe me?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you better, sweetheart,” I drawl, settling back against the cushions again and tossing an arm up to rest on the back of the couch. “Tell me about your family.”

Miley heaves a sigh as she shifts to sit up straighter, pulling her legs in and covering them with the blanket. “Charlie and Jordan are older than me, Blake and Drew are younger,” she supplies, her voice guarded.

“What are they like?” I probe.

She sighs again, but it’s less dramatic this time. “Charlie’s the oldest, and she’s the smart one. She’s working toward a degree in molecular biology, top of her class.” There’s a flicker of pride there, despite the clipped tone.

I nod, encouraging her to go on.

“Jordan, you’ve met,” she continues. “She’s a rebel, always fighting and partying and hooking up.

Anything to piss off Alpha, though he doesn’t pay enough attention to notice.

Blake’s nice to a fault, always thinks the best of people.

She’s a romantic, which won’t do her any favors once she’s paired.

” She gestures between us. “This whole thing didn’t help matters. ”

I tilt my head. “How so?”

Miley frowns, fiddling with the worn corner of her paperback. “She wants life to be a fairytale, and now she thinks mine is. Gives her false hope that she’ll get her own happily-ever-after.”

“There’s no harm in a little hope,” I murmur, swiping a hand over my chin.

“In my world, there is,” she deadpans. “Hope just leads to heartbreak.”

A heavy silence settles between us, my chest tightening as I think about what she’s said– and what she hasn’t.

The weight she carries. The rules that cage her.

And the worst part is, I know I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface.

She’s built walls out of steel and sarcasm, and I can’t tell if she’s daring me to scale them or warning me not to try.

I clear my throat, steering us back to something lighter. “And what about the other one? Drew?”

“She’s only seventeen, still a kid,” Miley replies dryly. “We don’t hang out much, but she tagged along today because Jordan caught her scoping out my old apartment. Think she just came for the gossip.”

“Because you’re living in sin with a bad influence?” I smirk.

She rolls her eyes. “Something like that.”

I nod, filing the details away.

Miley pops the lollipop out of her mouth and points it at me. “Your turn.”

I grin, stretching my legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Two siblings, both older. My brother Archer is Alpha of our pack, and he’s the golden child. Always got good grades in school, followed the rules… I’m sure you know the type.”

She gives a quiet snort of recognition, the corner of her mouth lifting like she can’t help it. She knows the type, alright. Hell, she is the type.

“My sister Andie is more like me,” I continue, warmth bleeding into my voice.

“Wild heart. Big mouth. Zero filter. She does whatever the hell she wants, consequences be damned. My parents were constantly putting out fires where the two of us were concerned, but to their credit, they never tried to smother it. Just found outlets. Taught us how to shoot, and all three of us would spend hours at the range.”

“So you’re close,” she surmises.

“Very.”

She nods like she respects that.

“You’ll love them,” I add, more certain than I probably have any right to be. “And they’ll love you, too. They’re a real welcoming bunch. Total chaos, but the kind you actually want to come home to.”

Her gaze drops for a second, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket in her lap.

Not like she’s bored, more like she’s trying to hide the way my words landed.

The idea of a close-knit family must feel foreign to her.

Or maybe it’s something she never dared to let herself want in the first place.

After a beat, she lifts the lollipop to her lips in a subtle retreat, but her eyes don’t leave mine.

“What’s your deal?” she asks, head cocked like she’s trying to solve an equation.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” I laugh.

She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, still studying me. “You’re not deliberately trying to push my buttons or get in my pants. It’s… weird.”

“Just tired,” I say, giving a loose shrug. “Guess I’m off my game tonight.”

She squints. “So this is the real you? Or are you just trying to get on my good side?”

“It’s all me.” I flash her a crooked grin. “Are you charmed yet?”

She considers, drawing the candy into her mouth slowly and deliberately. “You’re not… entirely unbearable.”

I bark a laugh. “Wow. High praise, coming from you.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck, warmth blooming beneath the cold front she always tries to wear. The tension between us shifts– still there, still crackling– but softer now. Less brittle. Like we’ve both stripped off our armor for the night.

Miley picks up her book again, tugging the blanket tighter around herself as she flips it open. “Don’t even think about dipping into my chocolate,” she mutters without looking up.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I chuckle.

She tries not to smile, but I don’t miss the way her lips quirk. Honestly, it’s hard to miss anything about her mouth while she’s sucking on that lollipop.

For a while, we just sit there– her reading, me watching her out of the corner of my eye.

I get up to grab another beer, then settle back in to drink it.

Somewhere along the way, the silence between us stops feeling awkward.

It’s not hostile or heavy anymore. Just quiet.

Easy. Like we’ve stepped into some strange little bubble where reality can’t touch us.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” I finally ask.

“About what?” she murmurs absently.

“Plan B. How we’re gonna handle your father and this whole ceremony he’s got planned.”

She sighs, lowering her book and glancing over at the clock. “Can we do it tomorrow? It’s late, and I’m drained.”

“Sure,” I say, tipping my head toward the hallway. “Should we head to bed, cuddle up? For warmth, obviously.”

She stares back at me, deadpan. “You’ve got the couch.”

“Again?” I groan. “That bed is huge. You’d barely notice I was there.”

She shoots me a look. “I’d notice.”

Tossing the blanket aside, Miley rises to her feet– and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

The silk pajama set clings to her like a second skin, delicate straps sliding over smooth shoulders.

Her nipples are clearly visible through the ivory fabric, hard from the chill of the air conditioning, bare legs long and golden.

She stretches her arms over her head, a sliver of bare stomach flashing beneath the hem of her top.

Instant. Fucking. Boner.

She turns to head for the hallway, treating me to a view of her round ass in those little silk shorts, my pulse skipping.

“But what if I get cold?” I call after her, voice an octave rougher than before. “What if I freeze to death in my sleep?”

She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk that could bring a man to his knees. “If you die in your sleep, I’ll finally get some peace and quiet. ”

“You’d miss me,” I say.

She doesn’t answer, just continues down the hall and disappears into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

Well shit.

Guess I’ll just have to try again tomorrow.