Shadowed Steel (Heirs of Chicagoland #3) - Chloe Neill Page 0,44

a different way. A different kind of balance. Because we want different lives. I have lived a very privileged life so far—privileged in that my parents let me be myself, let me get away with more than they should have, and helped clean up the mess. And the money.”

“I guess so,” I said, and felt my lips curve.

“So I didn’t have to do much planning. Someday I’d fight for Apex, but that was far off, and I figured by then I’d know what to do. Most people think of the Apex as the ruler. The person in charge. While there’s some truth to that, it’s not the entire truth. The Apex is the voice. Strong, of course. Physically capable. But also able to speak for the collective based on what they want, and what they need.”

“What if they don’t know what they want or need?”

“Then it’s the Apex’s job to help figure that out, for the good of the people involved.” He walked to me, put a finger beneath my chin, lifted it. “What do you want, Elisa Sullivan?”

“To learn who I am.”

The words were out before I’d given conscious thought to the answer. So I knew they were the truth. My soul’s truth.

“And the AAM would take that away, because they would tell you who you have to be.”

“Yeah.”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t tell you about this place because I thought you’d tell me to stay at home, with the Pack.”

“I— What?”

He actually looked . . . bashful. Knitted brows, lopsided half smile. “It wasn’t just important that I get some space from my family. I wanted to make some space for us. To give us a chance. And I figured if I told you what I was doing before I did it, you’d tell me not to uproot my life for you.”

I just stared at him. “I . . . probably would have said that exactly.”

His smile was brilliant. “I know you, Elisa Marie.”

“My middle name isn’t Marie.”

“I know that, too.” He grinned, lifted a shoulder. “But it sounds right.” He moved toward me, took my hand, and squeezed. “It’s early. For us, I mean. But I like the way this feels.” He put my hand against his chest, above his heart. It pounded beneath my palm, strong and steady.

“I do, too,” I said with a grin. And if the monster had had toes, they’d have curled at the invitation in his eyes. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses about me.”

His laugh was full and hearty, and I loved the feel of it beneath my fingers. “The delay was all you, brat. You had to mellow the type A.”

“Oh, it hasn’t mellowed. You just matured.”

“Maybe we both changed.”

“Maybe we did.”

He looked up, let his gaze pass around the room. “The house is pretty good, right?” That this man, strong and powerful, wanted me to approve of the den he’d made, nearly made up for the secrecy.

“It’s gorgeous.”

He looked inordinately relieved. “Good,” he said with a nod. “Good.”

My screen buzzed, and I pulled it out, anticipating a new horror. And found an alert I’d set the day before. “Damn it. I need to feed the starter.”

He blinked. “Is that a sex thing?”

The laughter bubbled out of me, loosening the tension around my heart. And I caught the glint in his eyes. “You own a restaurant,” I said. “Of course you know what a starter is.”

“I do, because Georgia taught me.” A shadow crossed his face, probably a memory of the very dysfunctional den of shifters in Minnesota, where she lived. “When did you bring it?”

“It was in my duffel bag when we left the loft. It’s now in a jar in the refrigerator.”

“Sneaky.” He frowned. “I don’t know if we have flour. I ordered a bachelor kit, but I’m not sure what’s in it.”

“You—” I shook my head to clear it. “You ordered a ‘bachelor kit’?” The images that moved through my head were decidedly not safe for work.

“Of food,” he said. “Local mom-and-pop store sells themed grocery bundles.”

“And bachelor includes . . . ?”

“A beginner’s kit of cooking supplies,” he said and flicked a finger down my chin at the relief on my face. “You have an admirably dirty mind.”

“It’s called a bachelor kit. If I’d ordered a bachelorette kit, what would you have imagined?”

His grin was wide and smug. “Many things, Lis. Many things.”

I skimmed my fingertips across his bare abdomen, watched the muscles flex in response.

“Be careful,” he said, lips near my ear.

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