Page 48 of Unmask (Crew of Elmwood Public #2)

KREED

I didn’t cook often, but when I did, I liked the ritual of it; something about cracking eggs and flipping pancakes made me feel halfway normal.

The sizzle of bacon filled the air, the skillet spitting tiny drops of grease.

I shifted the strips with a fork, watching the edges curl and crisp, the meat releasing its fat in a satisfying crackle.

Behind me, the kitchen island gave a subtle creak as Kaylor settled herself on top of it, legs crossed, followed by the soft rustle of fabric as she adjusted her position.

“You know,” she said slowly, “I’m honestly a little surprised you know what you’re doing.”

I didn’t turn around, just let a smirk tug at the corner of my mouth as I focused on the pan. The bacon was almost perfect, crispy but not burnt. “Surprised, huh?”

Her sudden shift in attitude toward me made me leery, setting off every alarm bell I’d learned to trust over the years.

She had kissed me this morning, initiated contact with a hunger that still made my skin burn when I thought about it.

I wanted to believe it was a step in her forgiving me, but it couldn’t be that simple.

Not with Kaylor. Nothing was ever simple with her.

Something was going on beneath that carefully neutral expression, and I planned to figure it out, but in the meantime, I could go along with the masquerade or truce, whatever this was.

“Yeah. You don’t exactly give off gourmet chef vibes.” Her legs swung over the edge.

I flicked her a glance over my shoulder, taking in the picture she made perched on the counter.

Her hair was a complete mess, silver strands wavy from sleep and tousled by my fingers running through it earlier.

Her shirt—my shirt, I realized with a jolt—hung off one shoulder, revealing the elegant line of her collarbone and a small freckle I’d never noticed before.

Her lips were still slightly swollen from our kisses, fuller than usual and still a tempting shade of pink that made me want to abandon breakfast entirely.

She was smirking, but the faint shadows in her eyes betrayed her. She was trying to act normal, but why? What changed?

I played along, turning back to the stove and reaching for the carton of eggs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I said, cracking the first egg against the edge of the pan. The whites spread and sizzled, edges beginning to set almost immediately.

“I’ll believe it when you make me something edible,” she shot back.

“Then prepare to be impressed, little raven.” I cracked the second egg, then the third, watching as they cooked alongside the bacon.

She laughed softly, genuinely amused this time, and damn, if a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat from the stove spread inside my chest. “What happened last night? I woke up and you were gone. Mason said you were following a lead.”

The fork in my hand stilled, bacon grease popping in the sudden silence.

I stiffened for half a second before forcing myself to stay casual, sliding the perfectly cooked eggs onto a plate.

The yolks were still runny, just the way I liked them.

I turned off the burner and set the pan aside, the metal scraping sound against the stovetop.

When I turned to face her, she was watching me wide, expressive eyes that seemed to see straight through every wall I’d ever built. Hopeful and wary at the same time, clinging to optimism.

“We found a location,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully as I leaned back against the counter.

The plate was warm in my hands, ceramic heated by the food.

“But by the time we got there, they were gone. The place was stripped clean. No girls, no guards, just…empty rooms and the smell of bleach.”

Her shoulders slumped, and the hope in her eyes sputtered, threatening to go out entirely.

“But…” I added, placing the plate in front of her on the counter, my knuckles brushing against her knee in the process.

The contact was electric. “That’s not the end of it.

If anything, it’s proof we’re on the right track.

Moving them means they know we’re getting close, that the pressure we’re putting on them is working. ”

She picked at the corner of the toast without really looking at it, her mouth pressed into a firm line.

“Hey,” I said quietly. “We’re not giving up. None of us are.”

She nodded, but it was slow. “I just want her home.”

“I know.” I understood that desperate, clawing need to protect someone you loved, to bring them back safe, no matter what it cost you. “And we’ll get her. I swear to you, we’ll bring her home. I don’t break promises.”

“What if she’s already gone?” she whispered, the question so quiet I felt it more than heard it. “What if we’re too late?”

My hand came up to cup her face, my thumb stroking along her cheekbone in a gesture that was becoming as natural as breathing. “Then we’ll deal with that if it happens. But right now, today, we keep fighting. We keep looking. We don’t give up.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into my touch. Maybe we were both just clinging to each other in the middle of a storm, pretending we could weather it together.

For now, that was enough.

“Now eat,” I ordered, making her roll her eyes, but she picked up her fork anyway.

We were halfway through breakfast when she flicked a piece of egg at me. The small chunk hit my shoulder with a soft splat and dropped onto my plate, leaving a greasy spot on my shirt.

I glanced up slowly, one brow lifting in mock disbelief. My fork paused halfway to my mouth as I stared at her.

Kaylor grinned as if she hadn’t just committed an act of war, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She popped another bite into her mouth and chewed like the innocent little liar she was.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” I set my fork down. “I’d expect something like that from Mason but not you.”

She swallowed her bite and tilted her head, still playing innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The lie was so blatant, so perfectly delivered with a sweet smile, I almost laughed. Instead, I pushed back my chair and stood, my movements predatory.

Her smile froze, eyes widening as she realized she might have miscalculated. “Kreed…”

Too late.

I rounded the kitchen island, and she bolted to the other side. Her laughter rang out, bright and genuine, as she scrambled away from me. I wasn’t even trying hard, just enjoying the chase, giving her enough head start to make it interesting.

Her socked feet nearly slid out from under her on the smooth floor as she darted around the corner, arms windmilling slightly to keep her balance. The sight of her trying to run in those ridiculous fuzzy socks was almost too endearing for words.

“You’re going to regret that,” I warned, making her squeal with laughter.

“Not if you can’t catch me,” she shot over her shoulder, breathless from running and laughing at the same time.

That was when I decided to end the game.

I lunged forward, closing the distance between us in two quick strides.

She shrieked, the sound dissolving into helpless laughter as I hooked my arm around her waist and pulled her back against me.

Her spine hit my chest with a soft thump, her body fitting perfectly against mine as I spun her around.

The momentum carried us both until her back pressed against the kitchen cabinets, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat radiating between us.

Her breath came fast from the chase, and her heart beat against my forearm where it crossed her ribs, quick and fluttering. She stilled, the laughter fading into something more dangerous. Her hands came up to rest against my chest, her fingers spreading wide over my shirt to steady herself.

Our eyes locked, and everything else seemed to fade away. My hand stayed planted at her waist, my thumb stroking along her hip bone through the thin material, while my other hand came up to push a strand of hair from her face. The silky strands slipped through my fingers like water.

Kaylor looked at me like I was the only thing in the room, like the rest of the world had simply ceased to exist. Her lips parted slightly, just enough to make my breath catch, and my own desire reflected in the centers of her eyes.

That same gravity was pulling us together again, that invisible force existing only between us, dragging me into the storm of her. I leaned in, giving her every chance to stop me, to pull away, to remember all the reasons this was complicated.

But she didn’t. She tilted her face up toward mine, and that was all the invitation I needed.

I kissed her.

Not quick or soft like this morning but deep and lingering.

I needed her taste to stay with me long after it ended.

I wanted to memorize the exact shape of her lips, the way she sighed softly against my mouth.

Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers threading through the hair at my nape, and I lifted her easily, setting her on the countertop.

Her legs slid around my waist, her ankles locking behind my back, pulling me.

I pressed my hard-on against her, the thin material of her silky underwear an annoying barrier to the heat I wanted to surround me.

The kiss deepened, becoming desperate, and I tasted the sweetness of orange juice on her lips and felt the way she trembled slightly when I traced the curve of her lower lip with my tongue.

My hands found her thighs, my fingers spanning the width of them as my thumbs stroked along the sensitive skin just above her knees.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging hard enough to make me groan against her mouth, and I sank into her, starving for this moment. Maybe I was afraid she would remember she hated me, but I’d take every fucking kiss she was willing to give and then some.