Sky Brooks, Tome 2 : Darkness Unchained

CHAPTER 1

The robust smell of French Roast coffee met me at the door as I stepped out my bedroom to find Steven, the Midwest Pack's fifth, in my kitchen, shoving a bagel into his mouth. His full lips curled into that infectious dimpled smile, enhanced by his wide, olive-green eyes and cherub looks, eliminating any chance of him being described as anything other than adorable. His copper hair was cut short enough to wave instead of curl, an obvious attempt to shed his boyish façade for something that made him actually look his nineteen years. At best, he could now pull off handsome-pretty.

“Do you live here?” I asked, taking a seat at the nook and sipping on coffee he made that was stronger than anything I would brew.

“Of course not; you’ve been to my place,” he responded with a grin. It was that same look that made you forget he was the Midwest Pack's very own angel of death. As harmless looking as a lamb, he was the disguised wolf—or, rather, coyote. You'd never suspect it, could never be prepared for it, and would have a hard time believing it—but he was the personification of death. When you finally realized that, it would be too late for you to do anything about it.

He was right; I had seen his cramped studio apartment, minimally decorated by his mother, of course, since a nineteen-year-old guy would never consider contrasting decorative pillows on his gray microfiber sofa that complemented his herringbone duvet. His apartment was cluttered with books tossed around the room on the sofa, ottoman, and floor. Clothes hung over the back of the desk chair and occasionally made it on top of the dresser. His apartment was probably less chaotic now, since most of his clothes and books now cluttered my guest bedroom. Every time I opened my kitchen cabinets and refrigerator, they were even more occupied by his favorite foods.

“You can’t live here,” I said. He was the closest thing I had ever had to a best friend, but I still didn’t want him as a housemate. I didn’t want a housemate period.

“I don’t.”

“Keys,” I said, extending my hand. I had given them to him several months ago to let the furniture deliveryman in while I was at work.