Page 72 of Promise of Destruction

“Okay,” she says. “I’m ready.”

I let my eyes trail over her outfit— a black dress without sleeves that cinches around her tiny waist and black tights underneath.

“Whose funeral are we going to?” I tease, not bothering to hide the amusement in my voice.

Soren’s face sobers and her teeth clench together so that she can stare angrily at me. “This is a work trip, right? Well, this is a work outfit.”

“Is it?” I muse. “I much preferred that blue dress you wore the night I met you.”

“Well, I didn’t dress for you.” She snaps.

“Who did you dress for? Surely not yourself, cause there’s no way you’re going to be comfortable on a plane in…that.”

She squares her shoulders, clenches her fists. “Well, if you’d just tell me what we’re doing maybe I could have better prepared.”

“You were better prepared before you changed.”

“I hate you.” She says the words automatically, the frustration with me coloring her voice. “You’re dressed for business.”

I glance down at the shirt I threw on without much consideration, a navy blue button down with black slacks. It’s par for the course for me.

“So I am.” I shrug. “Tell you what,”

Soren lifts her head, already preparing for the challenge.

“You change into something more comfortable, and I’ll tell you where we’re going.”

“Or you could tell me where we’re going so I know what will be comfortable. I don’t want to dress in a tank top and then have you take me to Alaska.”

I snort. “The coldest thing where we’re going will be your frigid heart, Ice Queen.”

I barely register what’s happening as she swipes the kitchen towel off the stove. A moment later, it lands on my face.

I pull it away from my eyes just in time to see recognition light in her eyes and shape her mouth with shock. I’ve got half a mind to tell her to run, but if I do, she’ll listen.

And if she runs, I’ll chase her.

And if I chase her, I’ll catch her.

And if I catch her… I’ll make her wish I hadn’t.

She looks ready to run anyway, so I call out to her before she can get her feet in motion.

“Soren?”

She doesn’t turn back to face me, but the pause in movement tells me she’s listening.

“Don’t wear a bra.”

forty-eight

Soren

I’llneveradmittohim that he was right.

I wore a bra to spite him, and it digs into my back the whole way to the airport. I’m small enough to get away without wearing one most places, but I don’t like to show my nipples to every stranger I meet and I get cold easily, so I don’t often skip it.

“You look… uncomfortable.” Declan’s warm breath hovers over my ear, chasing chills between my shoulder blades and down my spine.