Page 10 of Wounded Soul
Irritated as he was, Jesse bit his tongue to avoid replying and keeping him engaged. Less than a minute later, he was rewarded with a huff and then a swish of air as Peter left to find someone else to harass.
Leaning against the cool glass, Jesse stared outside, eyes straining to see the tell-tale flash of headlights. “Come on, Lys,” he muttered, pulling his phone out to check the time again. 5.40am.
Fuck. Where are you?
If his heart still beat, it’d be racing by now. As it was, panic gripped him, tightening his chest.
She was cutting it far too fine.
Glancing at his phone again, he debated calling her. She wouldn’t answer while driving—not worth the risk of attracting police attention—but fuck it. He called her anyway.
She answered after the first ring. “I’m almost home.”
“Thank fuck.” He peeled his fingers from the window sill, wincing at the indentations he’d left there. “I was worried.”
“Mhmm.” She huffed. “Obviously not that worried if you’re only calling me now.”
Headlights came into view and Jesse smiled into the phone. “I had to deal with some unpleasant business first.”
Laughter met his words. “Let me guess... Peter?”
“What gave it away?” He rested his head against the glass, watching her speed past the house to the parking area.
“It’s always fucking Peter.” He heard her turn off the engine. “Put me some blood to warm, and I’ll let you tell me all about it.”
“Hurry,” he whispered, noting the sky already getting lighter but smiling into the phone.
Bitching to Lys was just what he needed.
Maybe they could talk about Ian too. Memories of a warm solid body filled his head, and he closed his eyes.
There was something about him...
CHAPTER THREE
Ian woke to the incessant buzzing of his front door.
Groaning, he pulled his pillow over his face and let out a sigh. Who the fuck was outside his flat at—he checked his phone—10.30 on a Sunday morning? And fine, maybe it was later than he’d first thought, but still. The two texts on his screen gave him a fair idea.
Unlocking his phone, he typed back an answer to Cate.
Well I wasn’t but obv I’m awake now. And no, he left last night. And ffs use your bloody key!
Thankfully the buzzing stopped and Ian heard his door unlock. He didn’t bother getting out of bed though; she’d seen him in worse states, and he was comfy and warm.
“Hey, you lazy bastard,” Cate called as she walked through to his bedroom. Leaning on the door frame, she scanned the room, smirk appearing as she noted the way his clothes were strewn over the floor. “Good night, then?”
“It was all right.” Ian shrugged, but his smile gave him away. At Cate’s raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes and added, “Yeah, it was good.”
“Seeing him again?” Perching on the side of the bed next to him, she waited for him to sit up, then handed him one of the Starbucks coffees she’d been carrying.
“Thank you.” Ian popped off the lid and inhaled. “What have I done to deserve breakfast in bed?” He eyed the paper bag she held in her other hand. “That’s assuming something in there’s for me?” He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, which of course she ignored, laughing.
“Like that’s ever worked on me.” Cate opened the bag and handed him a still-warm croissant. “And Blake texted me this morning, said he had news. Said to meet here at eleven. Thought I’d come over earlier and check you were alone.” She frowned. “Didn’t he text you too?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” Ian reached for his phone, feeling a little weird about Blake coming over. The thought of seeing him still caused his stomach to flutter, but his bed still smelt of Jesse, and that made him kind of uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Cate reached over and poked his cheek as Ian found Blake’s text.
