The crowd roars when he’s presented as the reigning champion, and he hates himself more the louder they cheer. But then the gate opens to reveal his opponent, and his heart stops. Turns to ice in his chest.
“Lethe,” he breathes, the beast in him awakening.
Midas woke drenched in cold sweat, shivering, and…with Hadley facing him, stroking his damp hair.
“Sorry,” he rasped. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I had too much in my head to rest.” She kept petting him, comforting him. “You didn’t bother me.”
“I can go up to my apartment,” he offered, dreading her answer. “Let you go back to sleep.”
“Spoon, stop talking nonsense.” She turned away from him and scooted back. “Do your job.”
Sliding an arm under her, he yanked her flush against him and held her tight. “Spoon?”
Laughing as if delighted to be held, she glanced over her shoulder. “Do you prefer Goldie or Prince?”
“Can I choose none of the above?”
“Spoon it is.” She rubbed his arms where they crossed over her stomach. “Sleep.” She yawned. “We’ve got ass to kick tonight.”
With her warm body pliant in his arms, her gentle fingers caressing old scars, he did.
“You haven’t broken up with him yet?”
“Remy,” Hadley sighed from across the room. “That’s mean.”
“I have a knife you can sleep with under your pillow.”
“Remy.”
“What? He’s fruit loops. Who knows when he might snap and kill you in your sleep?”
“He’s not fruit loops, and he won’t snap. Even if he did snap, he wouldn’t kill me in my sleep.”
The ringing endorsement set Midas’s ears burning. “She’s right.”
“No one asked you,” Remy snarled. “Of course you would say you’re not going to kill her.”
Only the maddest of the stark ravers killed their mates, but Hadley didn’t know that she was his, and he wasn’t about to tell her. Tricking her into courtship was bad enough, but he refused to let his instincts condemn her to a life—or a relationship—she didn’t want. She fought so hard for her dreams. He would rather let her go than watch her sacrifice even one on his behalf.
The final choice would be hers to make, and he…would have to live with the consequences.
“You’ll want to hear this.” Hadley sat on the futon near his hip and passed him a café mocha. “We’ve got a party to crash.”
Leveraging into a seated position, Midas accepted what Hadley considered breakfast with a smile he couldn’t quite catch before Remy noticed.
“Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “He thinks he’s special because you made him coffee.” She scooped a mug off the table. “She made me one too.”
“Hate Midas on your own time.” Hadley threw a pillow at her head. “Not while you’re on the clock.”
Remy grumbled loud enough for him to hear but soft enough Hadley let her get away with it.
“There’s a club in Buckhead, the Ivy.” She slurped her drink loudly as punctuation. “Rumor has it, there’s another invite-only party there tonight. Starts in a few hours. Faete is supposed to be on tap.”
“One of mine got into the last party without an invite.” Hadley pulled on her bottom lip. “What are the odds we can walk in off the street tonight?”
“None to none.” Remy started pacing. “The original invites were super fancy to guarantee the recipients would flash them around, help build the hype.” A snarl curled her lip. “This one is to establish a supply chain. No freebies. It’s pay to play.”
Midas stared at her over the rim of his mug as he drank. “How did you come by this information?”
“None-ya,” Remy snarked. “As in none of your business.”
Anticipating the hostile response, he checked with Hadley. “Do you trust her intel?”
“I do.” Her expression lingered on Remy. “Go do what you do. Report back when you know more.”
“Sure thing.” She yanked a crumpled paper from her pocket and slapped it down on the kitchen table. “Numbers from last night.”
“You’re really angling for that bonus.” Hadley chuckled. “Keep up the good work.”
“A bonus ain’t enough for what I do.” Remy yanked open the door. “I want a raise.”
She slammed it behind her, and Hadley just shook her head.
“She’s not wrong.” She glanced at the paper. “She’s a whiz at sales. Who knew?”
Having visited malls in Atlanta and experienced their breed of aggressive salesmanship, he had no trouble picturing Remy snagging shoppers as they emerged from other stores, dragging them to the Peachy Keen Sheets kiosk, and bullying them into making purchases.
Given Hadley’s soft spot for the murderous young woman, Midas let it go.
“How do you propose we get an invite?” He finished his drink. “Any friends who can pull strings?”
Mouth stretched thin, she glanced at her phone where it sat on the coffee table. “Maybe.”
“I need fresh clothes and to make some calls.” He climbed off the futon and rinsed his mug in the sink. “What time should I meet you back here?”
“Give me two hours.” She flopped sideways with a groan then raised her head. “Going upstairs or out?”
“Upstairs.”
“Okay.” She dropped it again. “Just checking.” Lifted it again. “That doesn’t count as nagging, does it?”
“No?”
“You don’t sound convinced.” She toed off her socks and hauled the sheet up to her neck. “I’m not sure how this relationship stuff works, so let me know if I start bugging you.”
“It’s nice.” He shrugged. “Having someone who cares.”
“Right?” She glanced over at him. “I didn’t think I would like it, but…it feels good coming home to someone.” Her cheeks reddened. “To you anyway.”
The beast in his middle propelled him across the room, and he claimed her lips. “Are you napping?”
Proof she had sat up with him through his night terrors, which could last hours, left him humbled.
“No.” She tugged the sheet higher. “I’m getting comfortable to make uncomfortable calls.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He crossed to the door. “Two hours enough?”
“Yes,” she mumbled sleepily. “Plenty.”
Leaving her tightened his chest, but he exited into the hall and bumped into Ares. “Do you always lurk outside Hadley’s door?”
“Usually only when you’re on the other side of it.” She waved him onto the elevators. “Trust me, I don’t want to hear all the mushy stuff that goes on in there. I only lurk when ordered to.”
He mashed the button for his floor, and they hit his apartment for fresh clothes and shoes.
“You’re half moved in here.” Ares whistled. “Why not cut the cord? Leave the den altogether?”
“I might, in a few weeks.”