17. HUNTER
HUNTER
T he sound of a camera shutter forces my eyes open to the early morning light bleeding through the window. “Hmmmm, what are you doing?” I murmur, looking up at Lyra to find her straddled over my hips, wearing one of Maddox’s shirts with a camera sitting steady between her small hands.
Lyra doesn’t respond, just takes a few more photos of me before turning her attention on Maddox next to us. Her camera flashes, taking photo after photo, and as she watches my best friend through the lens, I can’t help but notice the way the corner of her lips pull into a small smile.
My hand falls to her bare knee and slowly slides up to the top of her thigh until she shifts her attention back to me, only this time, her camera sits down around her waist.
“You really like him, huh?”
She glances over at Maddox again, that smile pulling just a little tighter before she nods. “Yeah, I think I do,” she whispers, trying not to wake him. Though considering she has no problem using me as a human chair, I doubt she cares how many hours of sleep I get.
“You’re not gonna hurt him, are you?”
Lyra shakes her head, her gaze shifting back to me. “I’m not planning on it,” she says, adjusting herself over me, preparing to leave. “But between you and me, if anyone is going to hurt him, it’s gonna be you.”
My brows pinch, and before I can question her, she climbs off me and strides out of her room, taking the camera with her. “Woah, hold the fuck up,” I whisper-yell, flying out of her bed and following after her.
She strides across her living room and into the small kitchen before reaching for the pantry door, only when she steps inside and completely disappears, my brows furrow. She closes the door after her, and I just gape toward the kitchen.
Where the fuck did she go? Our apartments are identical. Same floorplan. Same kitchen. Same cramped excuse for a bathroom. My pantry isn’t big enough to fit a foot-long sub, let alone completely disappear inside of it. Yet Lyra just walked through and vanished like it was a fucking portal.
There’s no fucking way.
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I go after her, reaching for the pantry door and pulling it wide only to stare into the room, completely dumbfounded.
There’s nothing but darkness, and not the usual pantry kind of darkness. This is intentional. It’s a small room, maybe only a few feet wide by a few feet deep, and is bathed with a dim red glow, and for a moment, I just stare.
I don’t know what I was expecting when I opened that door, but this certainly wasn’t it.
I creep inside as I take it all in. The space isn’t large, but every inch of it has been designed with purpose.
Liquid-filled trays line a counter while bottles of chemicals sit neatly organized underneath.
Drying racks stretch overhead with photographs hanging from clips, swaying gently in the low hum of the ventilation fan.
“What the actual fuck?” I murmur.
It’s a dark room.
“Close the door,” Lyra says.
I quickly pull the door shut behind me and let the room fall back into almost complete darkness.
Lyra stands near one of the trays, completely at ease among the red light and chemical smells, gently rocking the liquid back and forth over a piece of photographic film.
I’ve seen her relaxed. I’ve watched her sleep after a night of being fucked within an inch of her life.
But she’s never looked so at peace than how she does right now, and fuck, it suits her.
Lyra doesn’t offer me an explanation as to how the fuck she has her very own dark room inside her apartment, but I’m just starting to realize that Lyra Vale isn’t the kind of woman who goes without. If she wants something, she finds a way to make it happen, no matter how unrealistic that might be.
Making my way deeper into the dark room, I scan over everything she’s got, the array of chemicals and trays, and as I scan over the hundreds of pictures clipped to drying lines above, Lyra just goes about her business as though she doesn’t even notice me here.
Her pictures draw me in. Every one of them is so different. City streets at night, rain-soaked sidewalks, old buildings and strangers laughing in a park. But the ones that really capture me are the ones of a dog. And not just any dog. Smooch. My dog.
Well, to be fair, he started as my dog, but the moment he met Maddox, the two of them developed a bond that I couldn’t possibly compete with. And in the blink of an eye, Maddox became his daddy, and I was demoted to the awkward step-uncle nobody wants around.
The photo captures Smooch perfectly. His tongue lolled out with a big goofy grin, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.
And honestly, the only time I ever see him this happy is when Maddox has him out at the dog park, throwing a ball.
This dog is in heaven in this picture, and something tells me it has everything to do with Lyra.
Sure, if Smooch was a normal dog, I wouldn’t think anything special of it, but he’s particularly known for being an asshole.
He growls at everybody who isn’t Maddox, and if you even think about going near him when he’s got a bone, you better be prepared to fight for your life.
He’s a bastard. There’s no other way to put it.
Which makes me wonder why the fuck Maddox would think it was a good idea to introduce them so soon.
I suppose the better question is why the hell Maddox had her over at his home in the first place.
And judging by the picture of Maddox in his bed, first thing in the morning, she stayed the night.
As a general rule, Maddox doesn’t do that.
He’s a certified playboy and will flirt with anything that breathes, but he doesn’t get attached, and he sure as fuck doesn’t bring women home.
Yet Lyra received the grand tour.
Something is different here. Something I’m not sure either Maddox or I are even capable of understanding.
Despite the raging jealousy twisting inside me, I keep looking over her photos and come to one of Maddox in a black shirt, the very same shirt that’s draped over Lyra’s small frame now.
I pluck the photo of Maddox off the clip and look at it closer. “This wasn’t just a random hookup to work out of your system, was it?”
Her attention lifts from the tray. “Huh?”
“Maddox,” I say, adjusting the photograph so she can see what I’m holding. “You’ve been to his home. Met Smooch.”
She shrugs her shoulders, her brows pinching. “He also let me piggyback on his bike. Doesn’t mean I’m about to put on a white dress and walk down the aisle.”
I scoff. “It might for him.”
Lyra sighs and fixes me with a hard stare. “What does it matter to you anyway?”
“He’s my best friend. It’s always going to matter to me.”
“Yet you’re still actively chasing me, knowing that he likes me.”
My gaze narrows, and then something clicks. “Is this why you’re so convinced that I’m the one who’s going to hurt him?”
“It’s only a matter of time,” she tells me. “He’s made it pretty clear that he wants this.”
“Maddox likes everyone.”
“Does everyone get to sleep in his bed?”
My gaze shifts away. She has a good fucking point, and I let it sit for a moment.
Maybe I really should back off. Let Lyra and Maddox figure this shit out between themselves, but there’s no denying that there’s chemistry between me and Lyra, and I can’t ignore that.
Despite her constant rejection, she wants me too.
The red light paints a strange glow across her face, illuminating her blond hair like a devil with a red halo as she studies me, trying to figure me out. I turn away, my gaze shifting to another row of photographs. A self-portrait, the city skyline just beyond Black Velvet, and Smooch again.
I point toward the dog. “That dog looks happier in your photos than he’s ever been around me.”
Lyra grins and looks at the photo, her gaze softening. “Smooch has range.”
“He eats rocks.”
She barks a laugh. “Nobody claimed he was smart.”
A laugh escapes me before I have a chance to swallow it down, and honestly, it feels foreign on my tongue. I don’t laugh often, but when I do, it always knocks me right in the chest.
Lyra watches me, and as she holds my stare, something starts to shift in the darkness. The tension builds, and I step closer, waiting for her to tell me to fuck off, but when it doesn’t come and she doesn’t move, I take another step.
“If you don’t want me, Lyra. Tell me to go.”
She visibly swallows, her chin lifting higher with every step I take until my hands are on her waist, pulling her against me.
Her chest rises and falls too quickly, a stark need pulsing through her wild stare, and when she pushes up onto her toes, I lean down, more than ready to capture her lips in mine.
“Go tend thy mouth to my nether cheek.”
I blink. Then pull back, trying to process what the fuck she just said.
“Did you just tell me to kiss your ass?”
A grin tugs at her lips. “Poetic, wasn’t it?”
I should walk away. I should drop my hands from her waist and leave without another glance, but I just keep staring, this woman becoming more than just a puzzle I need to work out. “Why aren’t you afraid of me, Lyra?”
Her brow arches, curiosity flashing in those bright green eyes, then that smile slips away. “Should I be?”
“Most people sense it from the beginning. They don’t know who I am or what I’m capable of, but they know they should run and never look back. But not you. Even now, knowing what you know, you’ve never flinched at my touch. Never backed down or feared me.”
Lyra just watches me, and it’s clear she’s unsure where to go from here, but before either of us can say a word, the door to the dark room opens and Maddox appears, looking just as dumbfounded as I had.
“What the actual fuck?” he muses. “What kind of bullshit pantry is this? Where’s all the food?”
Lyra laughs and shoves my hands from her waist, and I take a step back, giving her space as she gets back to her work, gently collecting a tray and washing the chemicals over the film.