Page 37 of Pistols & Peonies

“I got better,” I reply, slumping down and dragging a hand through my hair. My gaze flicks toward the glass doors of the Tower nervously, but there’s nobody in sight.

Not that I expected Kane to follow me. He’s been shut in his bedroom all night, his presence a heavy, maddening thing I swear I could feel through the walls. Still, old instincts die hard– and where we’re headed, we definitely don’t want an enforcer tagging along.

Charlotte tilts her head and studies me under the soft dashboard lights, her expression equal parts relief and suspicion. “You don’t look sick,” she says slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Like, at all. Are you high right now or something?”

“Wouldn’t that be a plot twist,” I snort, rolling my eyes. “No. I just finally got some actual sleep.”

She flips on her blinker even though the street’s empty. “Well, thank god for that,” she breathes, pulling away from the curb. “Was it the melatonin gummies? I told you those things are a game changer.”

“Never wound up getting them,” I mumble, watching the Tower shrink in the rearview. “Apparently all I needed was to share a bed with my mate.”

The words hang there for half a second before they fully register, then Char chokes on a gasp, swerving dangerously close to a parked car before jerking the wheel back in line.

“I knew it!” she screeches, slapping my arm with her free hand. “Didn’t I tell you it was only a matter of time before your stubborn ass caved to temptation?”

“Ow, Char!”

She ignores me completely, too busy vibrating with excitement. “I mean, not that I blame you,” she continues, eyes bright with vindication. “He’s hot as fuck. And all that growly, dominant energy? Yes please.” She fans herself dramatically to drive that point home, swerving again. “So what happened? I need details, bitch. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Char has been my anchor in all the chaos since the Pairing. She’s my constant, my safe place, the one who lets me rant into the phone for hours without trying to fix me. She’s heard every ugly thought, every fear, and every spike of resentment and confusion. And right now, she’s so damn giddy I almost hate to disappoint her.

Almost.

“Oh calm down,” I scoff, waving her off. “Nothing happened.”

She shoots me a look that says she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Uh-huh.”

“We just slept,” I add firmly. “That’s it.”

Her brow arches dubiously. “You mean to tell me that with all the sexual tension and mutual hate brewing between you two, you didn’t even touch?”

I shrug, turning my face back toward the window. “Believe me,” I say dryly, “there’s nothing less sexy than sleep deprivation-induced psychosis.” I rub at my temple, already feeling a headache starting to bloom. “Besides, Kane’s the type who’d rather waterboard himself than give into a biological impulse.”

“I dunno, Vi,” she clucks, voice lifting into that teasing register she uses when she thinks she’s onto something. “I saw the photos in the press release. If looks could fuck, you’d be pregnant with triplets.”

I snort, swatting at her with the back of a hand. “First of all, ew. Second, the only thing getting knocked up in that picture is Alpha’s ego for a PR stunt well done.” I shift in my seat, the leather creaking beneath me. “And third, neither of us actually wanted to sleep in the same bed. He even wolfed out so he wouldn’t have to consciously lay next to me.”

Her eyes gleam with mischief. “Or because he didn’t want to be tempted laying next to your fine ass,” she counters, wagging her brows.

I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts, letting my head flop back against the headrest. “Either way, it’s fine by me. It was like curling up with a warm, fuzzy blanket.” I close my eyes briefly, the memory of steady warmth and deep, dreamless sleep still clinging to me. “I slept like a baby.”

“Well, good,” she says, nodding decisively. “You’re gonna need your energy for tonight.”

I just grunt in response, the conversation lapsing into silence as we weave through downtown traffic. It’s late enough that most sane people are already in bed, which means we only pass the occasional cab or food delivery vehicle idling at a curb. The city looks cleaner at this hour, the usual grime and chaos tucked neatly into the shadows.

The farther we go, the quieter it gets.

“So,” Charlotte says after a while, glancing over at me. “How are you, really? You feeling okay?”

I exhale a slow breath. “Define okay.”

She studies me under the glow of passing streetlights, her expression turning serious. “I mean… you seem normal. Not weird or twitchy like you’ve been lately.” A pause. “It’s good.”

“It’s temporary,” I warn. “The second I stop getting sleep, I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled breakdown.”

“Then just keep sleeping with Kane,” she says, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

“Yeah, we’ll see how that works out,” I mutter, watching a darkened block slide past. “I feel like I’m going crazy being stuck in close quarters with a guy who’s basically a robot.”