Page 37 of The Sole Suspect
“I’ll call her back after I get some food in you. One protein bar isn’t nearly enough.” His thumb traced my bottom lip, the casual intimacy of the gesture making my chest tighten. “But first, how do you feel?”
“Like I ran a marathon.” Heat crept up my cheeks at the memories flooding back. “Several marathons. In the Sahara. While carrying weights.”
Dominic’s chest rumbled with alpha satisfaction, the sound vibrating against my shoulder where I pressed against him. He set the empty glass and wrapper aside and stretched out beside me, pulling me against his chest. His skin burned hot against mine, still running warm from the last vestiges of his rut.
“Still no regrets?” His voice held a hint of vulnerability that made my heart clench.
I touched the mark on my neck—his claim. “None whatsoever.”
He studied me for a long moment, something like wonder crossing his face. “I never thought I’d find my mate in a small-town cobbler.”
“And I never thought I’d end up with an alpha who tears thousand-dollar suits like tissue paper.” I traced the line of his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble beneath my fingertips.
“Yes, well... my only excuse is that I might have briefly gone insane.” He flashed his pointed canines in a quick smile. “Small-town cobblers have that effect on me.”
His lips found mine, soft and sweet. So different from the desperate kisses we’d shared during my heat. “We should get up,” he murmured against my mouth, even as his hand slipped under the blanket, tracing the curve of my hip with possessive fingers.
“Probably,” I agreed, making no move to leave the warm nest of blankets.
“I could get that food we’ve been talking about.” His palm slid up my side, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Mmm,” I replied eloquently, tilting my head as his lips found the mark on my neck. “Food. Good idea.”
A sharp, insistent knock shattered the moment, followed by the jingle of the brass bell my great-great-grandfather had installed decades ago. Even from upstairs, its distinctive tone was unmistakable.
“Leo!” Penny’s voice carried through the floorboards, pitched higher than usual with urgency. “Leo Sterling-Hart, get your newly debauched butt down here right now!”
I guess the entire district had heard by now that my heat had arrived during the auction and I’d departed from Fairfax Mansion alongside Dominic Steele.
Sarah’s voice followed, quieter but just as tense. “Leo, please. It’s important.”
Dominic growled, his body tensing protectively around mine. I pressed a placating kiss to his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble beneath his lips.
“It sounds urgent,” I said, reluctantly extracting myself from his embrace. “We should see what’s happening.”
Another growl rumbled through his chest, but he released me with obvious reluctance. I tugged on the nearest clothes—his shirt and my jeans—and padded across the cool floorboards to the door. Dominic followed, pulling on his pants but leaving his chest bare, his movements fluid despite his clear reluctance to end our seclusion.
I headed down the stairs, wincing slightly at the pleasant soreness in my muscles, a physical reminder of the past few days’ activities. The scent of cotton candy and citrus grew stronger as I approached—now tinged with anxiety.
I unlocked my apartment door to find Penny and Sarah on the threshold, both looking disheveled and worried. Penny’s pink hair stood in uncharacteristic disarray, as though he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. Sarah clutched a leather portfolio to her chest, her soft brown curls escaping from their usual neat bun.
“Finally!” Penny pushed past me, his eyes widening as he took in my appearance. “Well, hello there, don’t you look thoroughly defiled and—oh!” His gaze shifted to something over my shoulder, and his mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of appreciation. “And I see why.”
Dominic descended the stairs behind me, his bare chest drawing Penny’s admiring gaze before the seriousness of the situation reasserted itself in my friend’s expression.
“As much as I’d love to hear every sordid detail,” Penny continued, his scent sharpening with renewed anxiety, “we have a problem.”
Sarah nodded, moving to my workbench and spreading documents across the worn surface. “The city council called an emergency meeting for tomorrow. Vertex filed demolition permits for six buildings in the Historical District.”
My stomach dropped. “They can’t do that without proper inspections and?—“
“That’s just it,” Sarah interrupted, tapping a finger against what looked like official city inspection reports. “These are fabricated. Look at this signature—Michael Tennyson.”
“Tennyson?” Dominic moved closer, his arm brushing mine as he leaned in to examine the papers. His expression darkened with genuine shock. “He’s in marketing, not building inspection.”
His eyes locked with mine, fierce with sincerity. “I had no part in this. I swear it. I’ve been feeding information to Blake about Vertex’s plans, but I never knew they were moving this fast or using forgeries.”
I believed him—our bond hummed with his honesty, the mating mark warm against my neck. I nodded, reaching for his hand. “I believe you.”