Chapter 8
Chapter eight
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At least she’d made use of her former keyboard warrior skills.
It was a slow month. The paltry money sent to her mobile cash app for the few citations she’d created was woefully short of covering her half of the rent. Mira sighed, and transferred the majority to Tyler’s account.
Anything was better than nothing.
Her phone buzzed, and she didn’t have to check to know it was yet another message from Jackson. Rolling her eyes, she stuffed her laptop into her backpack, shrugged into her hoodie, and laced up her boots.
Dominic smiled at her when she opened the front door. “Hey, Mira.”
She swallowed her shriek and stumbled back. “Jesus, Dominic. What the fuck.” She glared at him as he pushed his way inside and shut the door. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Where are you off to?” He glanced curiously around the apartment, then stalked her across the living room, taking up far more space than Tyler had five minutes ago. “You look prepared to start some trouble somewhere.”
“Why do you assume the worst?”
She jumped when she came up against the fireplace mantle. It annoyed her how he always seemed to corner her anywhere.
All without touching her.
Dominic leaned his hands on the mantle on either side of her, trapping her once more. “There’s no assumption about it.” His eyes roved her body slowly, taking in her hoodie and black leggings. “You’ve got on your full anarchist starter kit.”
Swallowing her annoyance, she glanced away, refusing to answer.
“Have you ever considered not announcing to the entire world that you’re about to stir up some shit?” He flicked one of the keychains dangling from her backpack. “At least get rid of this damned backpack for something more generic. It’s popped up one too many times on surveillance. The Council already ID’d it as belonging to a DFC member. They don’t have your face yet, but if you keep this up, they will. Soon.”
Mira ignored the faint unease that trickled through her. He didn’t understand the purpose of her distinctive look. She sure as hell wasn’t about to explain it to him. “That’s nothing new. I’m pretty sure the Council has more important things to do than stalk me. That seems to be your job, anyway.”
“Hey. Look at me.”
Dominic inched closer and touched her hip, then dropped his hand. But the warmth of his touch seemed to linger, making her shift on her feet.
She stared ahead, but that left her staring at his collarbone. She was short enough that he could tuck her under his chin if he wanted to. His chest brushed hers, and his deep voice hummed through her as his Adam’s apple moved.
“This is serious, Mira. Someone in the Council is determined to connect those demon attacks to the DFC. If they look hard enough, they’ll find justification, even if it isn’t there. The connection to that attack on the pub a few weeks back is iffy, but the one at RiteMart—”
“Whoa, wait. Hold on.” Dominic’s proximity was scrambling her brain, forcing her to think twice as hard to piece it together. “Was it Ricky’s Pub?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Why?”
“That…” She shook her head to clear it. “That pub owner refused to serve a woman who brought her smoke demon boyfriend with her. And the RiteMart store chain doesn’t hire demons. The DFC held protests over both earlier this year.”
Dominic grimaced and stepped back. “Well, there we go. A plausible motive for attacks. The Council will reach the same conclusion, if it hasn’t already.”
“ You know it wasn’t the DFC. That air demons were controlling smoke demons. Just like Nikhiv.”
“The only evidence is from Nikhiv’s unreported attack. Who should make a statement? Me, the agent who removed a dead body of a Councilman from a crime scene? The custodian who concealed the crime and sheltered a smoke demon? Or you, the DFC member who shot him with an illegal weapon?”
Mira forced a shrug. “You know what? You’re right. There’s nothing I can do. It’s not even something I should be trying to fix on my own. I’m just a single person, in a single unit of the DFC.”
With a sigh, she took out her phone. “The most I can do is alert everyone else. I’ll text Jackson.”
“Your ex?” Dominic nearly growled. “He recruited you into the DFC, right?”
She gaped at him, annoyed. “We need to establish some boundaries.”
“There are no boundaries went it comes to this.” He cut off her path when she tried to step around him.
“You’re acting like an ex yourself.” Mira held his stare, refusing to back down when he drew close once more. “Bossy. And possessive,” she accused.
“Maybe Jackson wasn’t possessive enough.”
Dominic threaded his fingers through her hair, ruffling the strands until her scalp tingled. He gently pulled her hair.
A shocked whimper escaped Mira.
Her body reacted even more intensely than the other day. It was as though he’d pushed some hidden button inside her, making her skin flush hot.
Dominic kept tugging, forcing her head back. He leaned forward, until his ragged breaths tickled her neck. Liquid heat pooled between her legs, throbbing in time to her pounding heart.
“You don’t know what possessive looks like,” he rasped, the warmth of his mouth hovering above her skin. “If you’d ever been mine, there would have been absolutely no question who you belonged to.”
He released her abruptly. By the time she straightened with a hand to her neck, he was already headed across the room.
Dominic gave her one final, hungry look before slipping out the door.