Chapter 27 #2
“I didn’t hide my presence,” he tells me. “And for the record, yes, I did knock. I’m guessing you didn’t hear it out here.”
My phone buzzes, causing me to glance down at it.
Luna: There’s a ridiculously hot, Italian-looking guy standing on the balcony. I’m guessing you figured that out by now.
My lips pinch.
Luna: I was trying to warn you when you rudely hung up on me. So I’m not sorry if he startled you.
I sigh.
Luna: Please tell me he’s one of your scent matches.
I shake my head, but the dots on the screen tell me my friend isn’t done sending me messages.
Luna: If he’s not, I would like his name and number. Please and thank you.
My gaze narrows as I type back…
Lark: That’s Lazarus Ferraro. And no, you may not have his number. He’s mine.
The dots appear again, and I wait for her response.
Luna: Has he proposed, too?
I scoff at that and tell her, No. He would have to like me to propose to me. And I’m pretty sure he hates me right now.
“I do not hate you.” Lazarus’s voice startles me, making me realize that I’m literally typing all this out in front of him. “Give me that.”
“Give you—”
He takes the phone from my hand and starts typing.
“Hey!” I try to grab it back from him, but he’s already walking away from me.
I chase after him as he disappears through the doors, his long legs carrying him to the bed before I’ve even entered the room.
He sits, and I leap onto the mattress next to him, then try to take the device from him. He lifts an arm, easily deflecting my movements.
I growl.
But the bastard ignores me and continues typing with one hand.
So I jump on his back and try to get to my phone that way.
He spins while still typing, and suddenly I’m flat on the bed with him straddling me.
I’m not even sure how he accomplished that.
When I try to sit up, he pushes me back down and says, “There. That’s better.”
The sound of my phone locking follows, and he sets it on my nightstand next to the gun I haven’t touched in days.
“Now let’s chat.” He settles on top of me, his elbows on either side of my head, caging me beneath him.
I gape up at him. “Have you lost your mind?”
He considers me for a moment. “My mind, no. My heart might be a different story, though.” He leans down to brush his lips against mine, the motion so unexpected that I gasp.
Which he perceives as an invitation because he dips his tongue into my mouth and starts to kiss me.
I have half a mind to bite him and very nearly do.
But then realize I would be claiming him if I did.
Except… except that wouldn’t be that bad of an idea. I want to claim him. To make him mine. To show him that I’m loyal to this pack. That I want him and the others.
Maybe that’s a way to prove I wasn’t involved in the attack on Johan?
It would be impulsive. Daring. And a way to take charge of this kiss.
The claim can’t be undone, though. But I think I’m okay with that.
No, I know I’m okay with that.
In fact, I don’t want it to be undone. I don’t want any of this to be taken away at all.
I grab Lazarus’s shoulders, feel the muscles bunch beneath the fabric of his dress shirt, and cling to him.
He deepens the kiss, likely assuming that I’m submitting to his touch.
I am to an extent.
But also not.
It’s the latter part that has me clamping down hard on his tongue and drawing blood.
He stills.
I swallow.
And our eyes open at the same time.
He tries to pull back, but I bite down harder, ensuring my claim is resolute.
He’ll forever wear this mark on his tongue, and some rebellious part of me is very pleased by that notion.
A rebellious and possessive part of me, I decide. Because I’m also ridiculously happy that he’ll never be able to kiss anyone else without thinking about me.
His gaze narrows.
Mine narrows right back at him.
Then I release his tongue from between my teeth.
He pulls back, a growl rumbling through his chest.
“I’m not sorry,” I tell him before he can speak. “Whether you like me or not, you’re my alpha. Not even my death can change that.”
He gapes at me. “You think I want to kill you?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“Fuck, Aurora,” he curses, jerking back and away from me. “I don’t know where I went wrong with you, but I’ve clearly fucked this up if you think I could kill you.” He leaves the bed, his fingers running through his hair as he paces.
Then he shakes his head.
And leaves the room.
I lie on the bed for a long moment, frowning while I wait for him to return from the sitting area.
But the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut is all I hear.
“Lazarus?” I call after him. It’s a stupid desire. Except there’s a na?ve part of me that hopes he tried to leave and couldn’t.
However, I slide off the bed to trail after him and find that he did, in fact, leave.
Crap.
I grab the back of my neck, irritated with myself. But also with him. With all of this. With everything.
“Ugh.” I stalk over to grab my phone, curious as to what he did to it.
And find that he sent three messages to Luna.
Lark: Hello, Luna. My name is Laz. I apologize for listening in on your conversation with Ms. Bianchi. It was rude of me. And I’m sorry for commandeering your friend’s phone to send this message. However, “hate” is a strong word, and I feel the need to correct it.
Lark: I don’t “hate” Aurora. I admire her. I’m obsessed with her. And I’m rather certain I’m in love with her. She’s strong, independent, and intelligent. She’s also beautiful and not afraid to stand up to the pack. The first time we met, actually, she pulled a gun on me.
Lark: Anyway, I just want you to know I don’t “hate” her. I’ve clearly messed up, though. So I’m going to work on fixing that. If Aurora doesn’t call you later, it’s because I’ve occupied her time. Please forgive her. And thank you for understanding. Hopefully, we’ll meet properly soon. —Laz
I blink as I reread the second message, where he says he’s in love with me.
My lip trembles, the taste of his blood still on my tongue.
How can he send these messages after everything that’s happened with my brother? He didn’t let me join the pack meeting. He made it pretty clear he was furious with Giovanni and that he assumed I was working with my brother to hurt Johan.
Yet he wants to tell my friend he loves me?
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I mutter, throwing my phone down. “And you are not getting away from me that easily, Lazarus Ferraro.”
I stomp off after him, determined to talk to him. To fix this. To… to do something.
Apologize, maybe.
Demand a reciprocated claim, also maybe.
Perhaps both.
Or neither.
I don’t know.
But when I find him, I’ll figure it out.