Page 69 of Bad Girl
His black beast was adequate, Bad Girl said, with a sniff.
My smile broadened over the rim of my coffee cup.
Was he now?I mused.
He was a majestic-looking wolf. Large, strong, a healthy coat of fur. It had been thick, but under the dining room lights it had shone as if a halo of light touched the very tips of it—black pulling blue and silver at the edges depending on how he moved.
By the Gods, you’re going to make me vomit, Bad Girl hissed.
What are you complaining about? He rolled around like a puppy for you.
She didn’t reply.
The silence said everything.
Chapter 33
Conrí
Claire stood ready to greet me. Steve would pop by later—his office was on a different floor and as Operations Manager his time ran differently to everyone else’s.
“Mr Gallagher, good morning,” she said, extending her hand.
I hesitated.
My eyes had already moved to Nika across the floor. This had never been an issue before—a handshake, reflex, meaningless. But we really didn’t want Claire’s scent on us right now. I patted her arm instead, touching only the material of her blazer.
“It’s so lovely to see you again, Claire,” I said, with a smile wide enough to cover the slight.
“Well, we are at your disposal,” she said, recalibrating smoothly. Her hand swept across the floor. Eight teams in total. I would need to work through all of them.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to sit in on the Dáire project.”
Her smile faltered—just a fraction, just long enough—before she recovered.
“Of course. Let me get Andrew for you.”
She moved off across the floor.
Nika was sipping her coffee, one eye peering over the rim of the cup. Her hair was piled on top of her head like a crown. And beneath every other scent on that floor—the cleaning products, the coffee, the accumulated humanity of eight teams—hers was superior. I moved a little closer and inhaled.
Stronger than Friday.
Matured.
Pheromones that were more than a chemical reaction. A calling as old as time itself, rising off her skin like something that had been waiting for exactly this moment.
My lip curled as the scent hit the back of my throat.
She lowered her cup.
Confusion crossed her face first. Then panic. Her gaze stayed locked with mine.
She wasn’t ready. She wouldn’t show the usual postural cues yet—her body was ahead of her understanding and she didn’t know it.
We had time.
She might not know that.
