Page 40 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"Both," I say, standing so fast my chair rolls backward. "I choose both."

"That's not—"

The door opens.

Mira is in the doorway like something out of a fever dream. Black dress that pours over her body like liquid shadow. The fabric clings in a way that makes it obvious she's not wearing anything under it.

Her hair's pulled back severely, exposing the elegant line of her neck. Diamond earrings catch the light when she turns her head, surveying the room like a queen examining peasants.

The temperature shifts. Every man goes rigid—not attraction, but recognition of another apex predator entering their territory.

"Gentlemen." Her voice is silk wrapped around a blade. "Discussing my influence on your operative?"

"You weren't invited," Cole states, though his hand drifts toward his concealed carry.

"No?" She glides into the room, fingers trailing along the back of an empty chair. "Strange. Jax told me eight o'clock."

I did. Last night, after everything. Needed her to know where I'd be.

"Though the way he phrased it was considerably less formal." Her eyes find mine, and I see amusement there. "Something about showing me what his team thinks of our... situation."

Heat burns up my neck. The team's eyes bore into me.

"Sit," Cole commands.

"I prefer to stand." She moves to the window, studying the street below. "Sitting suggests I'm participating in this intervention. I'm not."

"You're compromising an operative," Asher states flatly.

"Compromising?" She turns, elegant as a dancer. "That implies he had defenses to begin with."

"Look at him," Remy gestures toward me. "He's completely—"

"Focused?" Mira suggests. "Alert? Primed?"

They all turn to look at me. I know what they see—dilated pupils, shaking hands, obvious tent in my jeans, sweat beading at my temples despite the air conditioning.

"He eliminated three threats last night," she continues, moving closer to the table. "While protecting me. His reaction time has actually improved. The sexual tension is clarifying his violence."

"That's not—" Cole starts.

"His performance metrics would suggest otherwise." She traces a finger along the wood grain of the table. "Your operative has become remarkably efficient since meeting me."

"He can't even think straight," Asher argues.

"Thinking is overrated." She looks directly at me. "Instinct is more reliable. And his instincts are perfectly calibrated now. To me."

I jerk visibly. Everyone notices.

"This is manipulation," Remy states.

"This is unfortunate chemistry." She shrugs, elegant and dismissive. "I had other plans. He's complicating them."

Plans. She has plans that don't include me.

"But here we are." She moves toward the door, then pauses. "He was already self-destructing when he begged me to meet him at the cemetery. Compromised over someone you're all grieving but won't name. Gambling himself into dangerous debts."

She's using what I told her last night. Everything I spilled about Roman.