Page 103 of The Vixen

“So…” Brittany absently reaches into the bowl of candy on her desk while she stares at her computer screen. “The check you brought us on the fifth was five hundred thirty-seven thousand seven dollars and fifty-three cents. You took home the two hundred thousand we could give you at the time, leaving you with a balance of three hundred thirty-seven thousand seven dollars and fifty-three cents. And you’d like to withdraw the total balance today, correct?”

When I dip my chin, she gives me a curt nod back. “Great, I thought so.” She pops the candy in her mouth and fills the silence with her crunching while she bends to retrieve several clear stacks of cash wrapped in plastic.

She slams them on the desk in a row and reaches for another candy—but hesitates. She picks up the bowl and offers it to me. “M&M?”

Instead of answering, I take the first stack and begin unwrapping the plastic. She says nothing when I start to count the bills, instead just goes on eating poison.

I’m glad it’s her here today. Two months ago, she was out sick, and it was her manager who handled the withdrawal. He kept repeating himself and asking me questions he should’ve known I wouldn’t answer.

I have very strict instructions when dealing with the people in town.

I am not to speak unless absolutely necessary. I’m not to make eye contact. I’m not to pause for anyone other than the bank employees. Anyone wearing a law enforcement uniform is to be avoided at all costs.

I bring that month’s check plus a note that sayswithdrawalong with my bank account number. That’s all. I don’t even bring an ID here anymore. Brittany understands and respects this.

Once I’m through the second stack, she unravels a third and sets it in front of me to count. The first few trips to the bank, she tried assuring me they use machines that don’t make errors like humans. Now, she just waits. Sometimes, she eats her lunch.

A crackle sounds just before a pop as she opens a can of her usual soda, red letters fanning like ribbons on the silver. It slows the numbers in my head, but as she slurps, I quicken my pace.

After I finish with the count, I pack away the bills inside the duffel bag and stand. Brittany jumps from her chair and strides to get the door for me.

“Thank you for coming in… It’s always a pleasure.” She forces another tight smile that she can’t expect me to return. I give a single nod before carrying the duffel bag from the bank, a fresh set of mouths whispering behind me.

Bo, my driver today, opens the back door of the SUV as I approach, and I climb inside and take a deep breath. My eyes close, but as soon as the SUV begins to move, I open them to watch the buildings, houses, and cars we pass. I’m never more uncomfortable than in the presence of people in town, but nothing is more fascinating than watching their lives from a distance.

A strange thought enters my mind: I wonder if Persephone will feel the same.

I’m exhaustedby the time we get back to the Shadow Sanctum.

Going out always seems to tire me, so instead of making the trek to the mines, I carry the duffel bag to my room. My eyes feel heavy, but when I open the door and spot Thorne sitting on my bed, they widen.

“Hi,” I say, shifting the duffel bag into my other hand. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on patrol.”

The bed creaks as he stands. “Hey… Yeah, I know. Your father pulled me off. He needed some things, but…” He wanders to me—a slight hitch in his step—and takes the duffel bag only to set it down at our feet. “I’m finished now. And I missed you.”

“What things? And why are you limping?”

Instead of answering, he takes hold of my shoulders and pulls me into him, lips finding mine. I’m hesitant at first. There’s passion to his kiss that catches me off guard, and it hits me how long it’s been since I felt his tongue.

I close my eyes and lean into him. My arms weave around his neck as I try to relax. But I can’t. Not really.

There’s a duffel bag full of cash on the floor when it should be in the bottom drawer of my desk—waiting until I take it to the mines. My bun is pulled too tightly on my head. Thorne is supposed to be on patrol.

I can handle surprises. I’m not fragile. But I don’t especially like them.

Thorne’s hand tucks beneath my sweater and snakes its way up to my breast while he guides me back against the wall, his mouth moving with an intensity I’m not used to from him.

My arms around his neck tighten, and I do my best to match his enthusiasm. When he squeezes my breast, I whimper. When he nudges my legs apart with his knee, I spread them even wider.

My eyelids clench at a thought: Is this how he was with Zephyr?

“I love you so much,” he groans after ripping from my mouth.

I gasp as he lifts me and carries me to my bed. He lays me down and quickly crawls on top of me before reclaiming my mouth once again.

Tension builds as we kiss, and though I maintain my enthusiasm, I can’t seem to take joy in it. It doesn’t feel like the tension I experience with Sawyer. There’s no winding in my core nor buzzing in my fingertips. My nipples don’t pebble. My shoulders don’t melt into the bed.

The tension is something else entirely. It feels a little like dread.