Page 5

“T here was absolutely no reason this needed to be done at my place.’’ I mumble, sprawled on the floor with a pillow tucked under my stomach. My elbows are propped up on the fluffy carpet, my hands holding my head up.

Arlo and Blair are sitting on each side of the coffee table, with papers in front of them. Blair is scribbling something down on an empty sheet of paper, brows narrowed in concentration to the point she’s not even hearing me. She blinks, sighs, and then crosses another name off the list.

Arlo, on the other hand, has his laptop on his lap, searching for God knows what, his glasses resting on top of his nose. He bites the inside of his cheek, and I can see him deleting whatever he typed previously and giving it another shot.

They’re trying to narrow down who to take to Kortlek.

The cards pulled two weeks ago were an ace, a king, and a queen, which means thirty-eight victims. Thirty-eight. Thirty-fucking-eight. I understand their dilemma, given the amount of research they need to do before they actually take action. The prey can come from anywhere within the state. It’s not exclusive to New York City only, and although that’s a little tougher to pull out, it’s not impossible, and they’ve done it a couple of times.

Given that the number has never been this high, they’re taking every precaution measure they can think of. No matter the fact that these people are some of the most vile humans alive, thirty-eight people vanishing and never being seen again on the same day is bound to raise a couple of eyebrows, which is what they’re trying to prevent.

Oh, but I’m not bothered by the fact that they’re doing their research at my place. Shocked? Sure, I didn’t expect it, considering how little they want me involved. But what caused me to be in a pissy mood is that Cove is here, too.

Unlike Blair and Arlo, who are working their asses off, Cove is standing in the corner of my living room, scrolling on his phone, unbothered by the entire thing. It’s like he’s forced to be here, and it pisses me off that he didn’t even greet me when he walked into my home.

Some manners would’ve been appreciated.

With a deep breath, I roll over onto my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. The silence is deafening. The only thing that can be heard in the living room is the scraping on the paper while Blair writes and Arlo’s fingers typing away on the keyboard. Their breathing is in sync, and they’re so fucking adorable it makes me sick.

Yuck.

“Since I’m being ignored in my own home,’’ I speak, though neither of them actually acknowledges me, “is anyone hungry? A snack perhaps?”

Blair’s ears slightly perk, and her hand stops mid-writing a sentence. Slowly, her eyes dart toward me, and she offers a small smile. “Yes, please. That would be lovely.’’

“Anything in particular you’d like?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine with anything,’’ she yawns, checking the clock. They’ve been here for the past four hours.

Yes, I’ve been on the floor in utter and complete silence for the past four hours. It’s almost midnight, and given their commitment to this, they show no sign of leaving anytime soon. Not that I mind Arlo and Blair — I don’t.

I mind that fucking giant in the corner who isn’t even acknowledging my presence.

“Alright,’’ I sigh.

I’m on my feet soon enough, putting the small pillow back on the couch and cracking my back slightly. The stiffness in my shoulder from holding one position for too long makes me wince and groan, but I brush it off as I slide into my slippers, tying my hair into a low bun, heading toward the kitchen.

I’m not sure what to make them.

It’s late to have a full meal — and those aren’t my words, they’re Arlo and Blair’s. They’re all about healthy habits, which I definitely am not. Nor do I have any desire to try it out. If I’m craving pizza in the middle of the night, I’m rewarding myself with a pizza in the middle of the night, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

I grab two oranges, peel them, and toss the peel into the garbage can before placing it neatly on a cute little plate I got a while ago. It’s white, with gold marble details and a wooden handle. It’s one of my favorites to serve snacks in because it’s both pretty and big enough to fit multiple things.

Once oranges have been arranged to my liking, I slice up some apples and kiwi and wash a handful of strawberries. Luckily for Arlo and me, neither of us inherited Dad’s allergy to strawberries. That man is missing out.

I rummage through my snack-filled drawer and pull out some chips and crackers, pouring them into two bowls and preparing to take them to the living room. A small smile forms on my face as I’m satisfied with the way everything looks, and I turn around, then immediately open my mouth to scream.

The scream gets stuck in my throat as a hand is firmly pressed against my mouth, the other hand at the nape of my neck, pulling me into the palm that’s on the front. My heart beats furiously, and it takes me a couple of seconds to realize it’s Cove.

My eyes narrow as he slowly releases the hand from my mouth, though the other one remains at my nape.

“What the actual fuck?”

He chuckles, lowly. “For an assassin, your reflexes are terrible.’’

“When did you get behind me?”

“The moment you opened the crackers.’’

I take a deep breath, steadying my racing heart and clearing my throat. My eyes are focused on his hazel ones as he blinks, seemingly taking in my appearance. His lips are parted, ever so slightly, and I loathe the butterflies that seem to erupt in my stomach.

He’s too close.

And his hand is still holding me by the nape.

Judging by the way he’s staring at me, he has no intention of letting go anytime soon. His hand is warm, and it makes the smallest hairs on my neck stand up, goosebumps pricking my skin. Neither of us speaks; we just stare at each other, lost in the small moment that we didn’t anticipate would happen.

“Why,’’ I clear my throat, realizing it sounds too squeaky, ‘‘why are you here?”

“I was bored.’’

“You were bored,’’ I repeat with a hint of disbelief. “And you followed me in the kitchen because of it?”

He gives me a brief nod.

I sigh.

“Let me get this straight,’’ I fold my arms in front of my chest. “You tell me I’m someone you barely tolerate and that if it weren’t for Arlo, you wouldn’t even talk to me. So, I give you what you want, and I don’t speak to you at all, and then you decide to just… follow me into the kitchen. Why?”

He’s mulling over his response, taking his time to formulate a proper response. In the meantime, the hand on my nape slowly starts massaging it, and I’m even more baffled than I was a minute ago. His actions don’t match his words, and it’s annoying me to the point of bursting out.

“I’m not very good with words,’’ he says, that dangerously low voice causing me to shudder lightly.

“Yes, Cove, I’m aware.’’ My words are softer and quieter than I intend, but they still send the message across. “But it doesn’t explain treating me like trash and then seeking me out. Why did you follow me here?”

I lower my hands next to my body, fiddling with the hem of my shirt, still unable to look away from him.

Cove bites the inside of his cheek and steps forward. Our chests are almost touching, the tension between us palpable. The air thickens, and I could swear that I hear his heart beat. His violent eyes peer into mine, pupils dilating with unspoken words. But that’s not good enough.

Yes, I’ve made the mistake of confessing to him. But it’s been two years, and not once did he give me any sign that he might be into me, too. Instead, he spent his time either avoiding me or, in the case of the locker room, speaking down to me. If that’s his way to show that he cares, I don’t want it. I need words, and I need him to say it.

I’m not sure what I want him to say, either. It’s nerve-wrecking just being this close to him. He takes in a deep breath, and his chest touches mine, and it’s like sparks start flying all around me. My fingers itch by my side to touch his face, to feel his skin on mine entirely, but I don’t move an inch.

Instead, I wait.

I wait for him to do something — anything. I wait for him to speak, to justify this scene, to tell me it’s all in my head and that he still dislikes me. I need him to completely crush down my hopes and dreams, because otherwise, like a pathetic, broken girl, I’ll cling to him until I can’t recognize myself anymore.

“Aria,’’ he breathes out my name, and I swear my knees almost give in. It’s been so long since he’s called me by my real name instead of the nickname he’s given me, and I can’t help but feel something twist in the pit of my stomach.

My name rolls off his tongue with ease, and it catches me off guard. It sounds like my name was made for him to say, and him only. Like it’s something both of us need at this moment.

“Yes, Cove?”

He’s struggling to speak, but I can see in his eyes that he’s trying to convey what he’s feeling, to put it into words but doesn’t know how. The hand from my nape drops, and instead both of his hands grip my hips, tightening enough to bruise.

I only blink, but when my eyes open again, his face is nuzzled in my shoulder. He’s not saying anything. He’s just standing there, pulling me closer, his face buried in my shoulder. He inhales deeply, then releases the breath, his shoulders releasing the tension slightly.

Meanwhile, I’m gobsmacked.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire. My breath hitches in my throat, and my hands suddenly stop fiddling with the hem of my shirt, just dropping by my side. I’m unsure of what to do. This is the most emotional I’ve ever seen Cove, and it can barely be called that.

“C-Cove?”

He hums in response.

“What are you doing?” I breathe out, my voice coming out in a hushed whisper. That damned perfect scent of his fills all of my senses, and I know that it’s rubbed off on me. For the next while, I’ll be smelling Cove on me, and the thought makes my stomach do a backflip.

His hands tighten on my hips, pushing me backward until I hit the kitchen counter. His breathing is heavy, his lips on the exposed part on my shoulder. Heat rushes up my cheeks and neck, and I’m pretty sure I’m as red as the apple I sliced not too long ago.

I swallow thickly, my mouth going dry. My hands tremble as I place them over his on my hips. I’m unsure of what to do, of what to think or feel. All of this is sudden, strange, and downright scary.

“I don’t know,’’ Cove admits, not moving. His hot breath hits my skin, and I shiver slightly, the sensations going right down to my core, and it’s one of the fucking weirdest things I’ve ever gotten wet for.

I’m a walking contradiction.

One moment, I want nothing to do with him. I still remember the words from the locker room, and it hurts whenever I think about him. That night, I decided I was done with Cove as a whole.

Yet, this giant here, the roughest man I’ve ever known, is holding me so gently, as if I’m the most fragile thing he’s ever held, as if he’s scared he’ll break me if he holds me too tightly.

I’m enjoying every part of this. If I could, I’d stay like this forever. With him holding me, pressed against me, and his soft, calm breathing down my shoulder. His scent lingers in the air, and my heart is full. It’s something almost intimate to the point of my heart bursting from happiness.

But, just like everything else in my life, the moment ends too quickly.

A pair of footsteps approaches the kitchen, and Cove immediately releases me, stepping back and refusing to look me in the eye. He clears his throat, and I’m waiting for him to say anything, but he doesn’t.

Blair steps into the kitchen and immediately notices the tension in the air.

“Is everything alright here?”

I toss on a smile and turn to her. “Yes. Did you need anything?”

Blair’s eyes flicker from Cove to me a couple of times, but she doesn’t comment on the situation. Instead, she glances at me and shakes her head. “Well, maybe. I got hungry, so I came to see how snacks were coming along.’’

My mouth parts a little, and I nod. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, here,’’ I grab the plate with fruit for her to take, whilst I grab the bowls with crackers and chips.

My entire body shivers as I follow Blair out of the kitchen, Cove’s intense gaze on my retreating form. But I know this will be just like everything else.

Tomorrow, he’ll act like it never happened.