Chapter Thirteen
MIA
I woke before five with Wolf’s mouth still lodged somewhere inconvenient in my memory.
I pulled on the first clothes I found without turning on the overhead light, a pair of soft black sleep shorts and a thin gray long-sleeved shirt that had been washed enough times to lose whatever structure it once had.
The hem fell just over the waistband of my shorts, and the fabric was light enough that I would have put a bra underneath it if I had expected to see anyone wandering around half-conscious in search of coffee.
At this time, that was doubtful.
After taking my vitamins and birth control, I decided my hair was another problem that could wait. I twisted the thick waves into a loose knot at the back of my head, pulled on socks and headed downstairs.
The compound was quiet in the particular way it only managed before everyone started moving through it.
The operations monitors cast a low blue glow across the far wall, while the kitchen lights remained off except for the one above the stove.
Rain still tapped lightly against the high windows, softer than yesterday, and somewhere in the building an old vent rattled whenever the heat came on.
I smelled coffee before I reached the kitchen, which meant somebody else had beaten me downstairs.
Fuck.
Wolf stood at the counter with one hand around a black mug, dressed in dark cargo pants and a fitted black t-shirt that made it obvious he had been awake long enough to become a functioning human being.
His sleeves ended above the tattoos along his forearms, and his watch sat tight against one wrist. The mask again exposed his mouth and chin so he could drink.
He noticed me immediately.
I stopped a few feet away from him.
“You’re up early.”
“I was already awake.” His voice was low and rough.
“That sounds healthy.”
He gave me a quick once-over before returning to his coffee. “You came downstairs at 4:50 in the morning in shorts.”
“It’s called sleeping.”
“Usually happens in bed.”
“Clearly I tried that.”
Wolf took another drink.
I should have gone straight for the coffee. Instead, my attention dropped to his mouth.
It was worse now that I had seen it before.
Yesterday at the service station, the glimpse had been new enough that curiosity gave me an excuse.
This morning, I already knew the fuller shape of his lower lip and the sharper edge of the upper one.
Knowing did absolutely nothing to stop me from looking again.
Wolf set the mug down.
“Mercer.”
I looked at the coffee machine. “What?”
“You know what.”
“I was looking at the scar.”
“Again.”
“Just checking, and yep it’s still there.”
His mouth moved at one corner, barely enough to count as a reaction. “Good observation.”
“Thank you.”
I reached for a mug from the cabinet above the sink.
The shelf was higher than it had any right to be, which had never bothered me much before because Bear usually left the clean mugs stacked near the coffee maker.
This morning the stack was gone, and when I stretched up, the hem of my shirt lifted slightly against my waist. I got the mug down and turned.
Wolf wasn’t looking at my face. His eyes had dipped lower, fixed enough that it took me half a second to realize exactly where they’d landed.
The kitchen was warm, but seeing his lips again forced my body to remember the car conversation and every answer Wolf had dragged out of me yesterday.
The memory of his hands tightening on the wheel did not help.
My nipples had tightened beneath the thin cotton enough that pretending otherwise would have required a thicker shirt and considerably more dignity than I currently possessed.
Wolf picked up his coffee as if neither of us had noticed exactly where his attention had been.
“You could at least pretend you weren’t looking,” I quipped.
“Like you?”
My grip tightened around the mug. “Excuse me?”
“You were staring first.”
“At your face.”
“Part of it.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No?”
“No.”
He took another drink while I tried not to think about the fact that with his mouth still uncovered, I could see exactly how calm he looked while being an asshole.
I turned toward the coffee machine and poured enough into my mug to justify concentrating on it. “I liked you better when the whole thing was covered.”
Wolf’s answer came from behind me.
“I’m sure.”
I stopped pouring.
The confidence in his voice was infuriating mostly because arguing would have required me to lie.
I set the pot back on the warming plate and turned around. “You know, most men would at least have the decency to look embarrassed after getting caught staring at a woman’s chest.”
“I’m not most men.”
“Trust me, nobody was in danger of making that mistake.”
He studied my face while he leaned one hip against the counter. “Put on a sweatshirt or some proper clothes if it bothers you.”
“Or you could exercise self-control.”
“I am.”
The answer came so evenly that my stomach tightened before I could stop it. Yesterday’s conversation returned again in one ugly rush.
Control.
If she gives it to me, I use it.
A yes means more from someone who can say no.
I lifted the mug to my mouth because it gave me something to do. Wolf watched me over the rim of his own.
“You’re a dick.”
“So you’ve said.”
“And very proud of yourself this morning.”
“I made coffee.”
“Heroic.”
“You’re drinking it.”
“That doesn’t mean I respect you.”
“Don’t really care.”
I hated how easy the exchange had become.
A little while ago, every conversation with Wolf felt like trying to get into a locked door and being insulted for not having the key.
Now I knew how long to wait when he went quiet and which comments he would ignore.
I also knew exactly how far the mask had to move before the scar became visible near his mouth.
The familiarity only made standing across the kitchen from him in sleep shorts and no bra feel less innocent. I took another drink and tried to redirect my brain toward something safer. My gaze settled on the small ARC patch fixed to the black bag beside him.
“Do you people ever stop being ridiculous about the animal names?”
Wolf followed my attention. “No.”
“Good. I was worried there might be a mature explanation.”
“There is.”
I looked at him over my coffee. “Of course there is.”
“Keeps real names off comms. Protects identities. Makes it harder to trace people outside the unit.”
“And here I thought Jackal just really wanted to be called Jackal.”
“That too.”
I smiled and leaned against the opposite counter. “Hawk wanted to name me Mongoose because I’m apparently small and aggressive.”
“Accurate.”
“Fuck you. Viper upgraded me to Goose.”
“Also accurate.”
“Bear was the only one with any dignity. He suggested Fox.”
Wolf took another drink.
“Then Raven called me Magpie because I don’t know how to leave interesting things alone.”
“He has a point.”
“And somehow that devolved into Badger and then Honey Badger, because apparently none of you can be trusted with naming privileges.”
The corner of Wolf’s mouth shifted.
“You were the only one who wouldn’t participate,” I recalled.
“You didn’t need one.”
“Because I’m temporary?”
His eyes settled on mine.
I took another drink and let the old irritation sharpen my voice just enough to make the point.
“I’m starting to think temporary has a different definition inside ARC.
I’ve been here long enough to get restrained, shot at, dragged across borders and forced to learn far too much about Jackal’s medical complaints. ”
“You weren’t shot at.”
“I was near people being shot at.”
“Different problem.”
“You see why nobody likes talking to you before breakfast.”
Wolf lifted his mug. “You are.”
“Against my better judgment.”
He let his eyes travel over me again, slower this time, from my bare legs to the thin shirt before finally meeting my eyes.
Then he said, “Rabbit.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Rabbit.”
“I heard you. I’m giving you a chance to reconsider.”
“No.”
I lowered my coffee. “After all the animals available to you, that’s what you came up with?”
“Yes.”
“A fucking rabbit.”
Wolf’s eyes stayed on mine.
“Why?” I asked.
He set his mug on the counter and straightened his mask back over his mouth.
“Because wolves eat them.”
The silence sat between us long enough that I forgot how annoyed I was supposed to be.
His voice had stayed low and matter-of-fact, muffled behind his mask again, which somehow made it filthier.
There was no grin behind it, no playful look meant to tell me he was joking.
He simply watched me from across the kitchen, as if he had handed me a perfectly reasonable answer and expected me to deal with it.
Heat moved slowly up my neck. I put my coffee down before I did something stupid like spill it.
“That’s fucking terrible.”
“You asked.”
“That’s your justification?”
“You wanted a callsign.”
“I wanted something that didn’t sound like prey.”
Wolf’s eyes dropped briefly to my chest again before returning back up.
“Should’ve been more specific.”
I felt the look everywhere it touched without him coming anywhere near me.
“You’re really enjoying this.”
“No,” he said.
“Liar.”
“Clearly, I don’t need to enjoy it for you to have a reaction, Mercer.”
My mouth opened.
Nothing useful came out.
Wolf reached for his coffee again, looking perfectly satisfied with the damage he had done. I folded my arms and immediately regretted it when the movement pulled the thin shirt tighter across my chest. His attention dipped again.
“Don’t.”
His eyes returned to mine. “Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“You crossed your arms.”
“I am aware of my own arms. They lift suitcases, remember?”
“Then we’re good.”
“Jesus Christ.”
The mask hid more of his expression than I wanted it to, but I caught the faintest movement at the corner of his eyes.
“You are smiling.”
“No.”
“I can literally see your eyes.”
“But not my mouth.”
“You are such an asshole.”
He picked up his mug and walked past me toward the operations table.