Chapter 20 Maeve
MAEVE
It was overcast and gray when I woke up the next morning. I lay in bed, looking at the tops of the old buildings that surrounded the loft on the south side of town. Beyond Main Street, I could just see the tops of the trees in the Blackwell Preserve.
It was one of the things I’d come to love about living at the loft the last time I’d been here: the old brick and concrete set against the lush greenery of the woods — now gold and brown with fall — that started just a block away.
The contrast wasn’t unlike the Butchers, who were beautiful and comforting and rough and raw in equal measure.
It was early — not quite eight a.m. — but I felt refreshed after my long sleep, so I used the bathroom, shot Bailey a text to let her know I was back with the Butchers, and grabbed the hoodie I’d pulled off in the middle of the night.
Then I stepped out into the hall.
It was quiet, and I remembered my first morning in the loft after the last Hunt.
I’d been uncomfortable then, scared and unsure.
I felt that way now too, but for an entirely different reason, and I made my way down the stairs at the back of the hall and walked past the first-floor gym and library to the combined kitchen, living, and dining rooms.
Back in the small apartment I shared with Bailey it had been easy to forget that the loft was super nice, well designed, and filled with beautiful, sleek furniture that looked like it belonged on the social media profile of an architectural or interior design influencer.
I sank into the safety of it: the thick walls blocking out noise from town, the expensive rugs layered over the concrete floor, the black-framed factory windows that stretched almost all the way to the ceiling.
Someone who knew more than me would probably have called it industrial chic, but I was struck by the solidity of the old brick building and the quiet reassurance that whoever had built it had money to spare.
The kitchen and living room were empty — no surprise since Bram and Remy were almost always up later than Poe — but a glance out the glass doors in the living room told me Poe was meditating on the balcony.
I could only see the tip of his head from inside, and I approached the doors with caution, like a trip wire might be waiting to blow me to pieces.
And in a way, it was. I was back where I’d started with the Butchers, except this time I knew how much I wanted what was on the other side of that wire, knew I might be willing to trip it — be blown to pieces — just to get it.
I opened the doors and was hit with a blast of cold air as I stepped onto the metal balcony.
“Jesus,” I said, shutting the door against the wind.
I turned to find Poe watching me with amusement.
“I’m going to take a wild guess that you’re not coming out here to meditate with me.”
I couldn’t help it: my gaze raked his naked body, starting at his face and traveling over his inked chest and flat abs, down to his dick between his folded legs.
“Naked? It’s way too cold for that.”
He glanced at his dick. “Shrinkage is natural in the cold. I’m secure in my manhood.”
I snorted. “I’m happy for you. I’m freezing my ass off and I’m fully clothed.”
“It builds character,” he said. “Resilience.”
“Yeah well, have fun with that,” I said, turning for the door to the loft.
“Hold up,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”
I wrapped my arms around my body in a vain attempt to stave off the cold air. I’d felt the dropping temperatures during my runs at the track after work, had noticed the leaves turning gold, but winter had still seemed a long ways off. Now I could feel that it was right around the corner.
Another winter — another Christmas — without June.
Poe stood and I forced myself not to look at his dick again. A girl had to have some kind of dignity.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, pulling on his sweatpants (what was it with these guys and their aversion to underwear?).
I nodded. There was no point mentioning the conversation I’d heard coming from Bram’s room. I hadn’t heard enough to tell me anything new, and I already knew they wouldn’t tell me anything unless they wanted to.
“Good.”
My gaze was glued to his flexing biceps and contracting pecs as he pulled on his sweatshirt.
Down, girl. On second thought, rawr. Go after everything you want, M.
Be quiet, June.
The last thing I needed was June egging me on. It was already hard enough to resist Poe.
He opened the door to the living area and gestured me inside, and I stepped into the warmth of the loft with relief.
My stomach rumbled and Poe looked my way. “Hungry?”
“Starving. Who’s making breakfast, you or me?” I still wasn’t sure about our arrangement this time around.
“You know what?” Poe asked, looking down at me. “Let’s get donuts instead.”
“Donuts?”
“We need to celebrate that you’re back,” he said. “Plus it’ll annoy the fuck out of Remy.”