Bad Girl
Nika
The imposter had looked wrong, smelled wrong, sounded wrong—as if he were a fault in the fabric of something she understood instinctively and couldn’t explain.
Then he’d stepped closer and I felt the panic move through her like a current, fast and total, and before I could do anything useful about it the dress was ruined and I was on the floor.
Thankfully, he left.
We began to assess the situation.
Neither of us had attacked. That felt worth noting.
His wolf was immense—black and dense and genuinely intimidating right up until the point he dropped onto his side and just lay there like a very large, very deliberate pile of fur. It was difficult to maintain a state of high alert against something that was actively showing you its stomach.
How had I not known he had a twin brother?
I’d searched Conrí online before the dinner. No social media. Nothing about his family. Nothing personal at all—just the company, the board, the carefully managed public profile of a man who had decided the internet didn’t need to know anything about him.
Note to self. Search harder next time.
I don’t like him, Bad Girl said. The brother.
He didn’t do anything.
He is wrong, she snapped. I wanted to kill him. A pause. I still want to kill him. He’s an abomination.
I sighed.
We’d come so far.
His wolf spoke again.
Why haven't we scented you before? We worked in the same building for years.
Bad Girl paused before answering as if gathering her thoughts and recollection of events.
I was activated after a wolf bite in Croatia. Our blood is old, but weakened through cross-breeding with humans.
There was no shame, only facts. She didn't care what he thought of our bloodline. If his pack had some kind of snobbery against wolves like us they could fuck off as well. I thought of his brother. The same face. Same body. Part of me understood why she reacted so badly.
Kael shuffled a little closer. Bad Girl froze, but he paused and settled again, staring at us as if he wanted to rub noses or lick our fur.
Bad Girl growled at the thought.
I should just give up now.
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??
He shifted back first and although we shouldn’t have, we watched his naked human butt walk out of the dining room. He’d gone to get some clothes for me and we certainly didn’t tell him we had some with us. He might think this was premeditated or that Bad Girl couldn’t control herself.
She snorted.
When he returned it was in a pair of shorts.
Stop panting, you’re embarrassing me, Bad Girl snickered.
A girl can look, I said defensively.
He laid some clothes on the chair, then crouched down, raising one hand. Bad Girl stood her ground. He didn’t move his hand any closer. Bad Girl raised her head and sniffed at it.
He smelled just right, unlike his brother. She didn’t growl.
Neither of us moved for a moment, but he didn’t touch us.
“Take your time,” he said before he stood.
He walked to the door, but glanced back and that’s when I saw the longing in his eyes. There was a degree of melancholy behind them. Before I could delve deeper he turned, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
What was that all about?
Who knows.
My gut—our gut—told me she knew.
But I became focused on returning to my human form as she released me.
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Conrí drove us home.
He was quiet, deep in thought—split between the road and everything that had happened tonight. It was uncanny how easily I could read him. Then something occurred to me as we drew into my street. He hadn’t set a sat nav. Not once. Not like the driver.
“How do you know where I live?” I asked.
He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I may have stalked you a little. To find out what you were.”
Naughty, Bad Girl muttered, though I sensed she was more annoyed at herself for never catching his scent in the area.
“And what did you learn about me?”
“That you don’t close your blinds.” A pause. “And that you know exactly where to bite.”
My head snapped toward him so fast I pulled my neck. Which only made it worse—the movement brought his scent from the T-shirt directly to me.
“So you know what happened?”
“I may have paid Mr McAdam a visit in the hospital.”
I winced.
“How was he?”
“Missing a testicle.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth—not from horror, but to hold the laughter in.
“He attacked me.”
“I know.” His voice was even. “I made sure he won’t speak about the incident again.”
“You killed him?” I gasped.
“I didn’t need to. He was still stitched up and swollen when I explained what would happen to the remains.”
The laughter escaped before I could stop it. Bad Girl approved entirely.
By the time he parked in front of my building I had made a decision.
I liked Conrí Gallagher. Wolf and all.
Bad Girl said nothing, still reserving judgment.
I thought of every mistake I’d made with Finley—the slow erosion of it, the way I’d ignored what I’d known long before I was ready to act on it—and I wouldn’t allow that to happen again. Not with anyone.
“When will I see you again?” Conrí asked.
“If you’re lucky, at work,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“I won’t give up.” A beat. “Just so you know.”
“Thank you for tonight,” I said, and smiled and opened the door.
I wasn’t playing games. I simply wasn’t prepared to rush into anything ever again.
Bad Girl hummed her approval.