gth.
The Primal is not of emotion, gentle and enduring, but icy logic and steely resolve formed by the vast reaches of an intelligence of which even he does not fully comprehend the true depths. And it is this creature whose struggle will be the most difficult to navigate within an emotion formed in chaos, rather than cold hard fact.
That emotion called love . . .
They were going to have to talk.
At least, he was going to have to talk, Cullen told himself the next evening as he listened to Chelsea while she worked at the kitchen table.
It wasn’t Chelsea who had a problem talking or expressing herself. Everything she felt for him had always been there in her eyes, in her expression. Besides that, the ambrosia scent of pure chaos was a delicate, subtle presence around her at all times now. The provocative, highly arousing scent of her love for him lingered in the air around her and infused his own unique scent.
As he paced through the kitchen and into the living room, the restless frustration pushed at him. The need to clear up so many misunderstandings, to explain actions that even he didn’t fully understand, rode his back like a malevolent demon.
And that demon was clawing at his chest viciously.
Staring through the privacy glass of the front door, he let his gaze rove over the house across the street. Someone had moved in a few months ago. He’d been uncomfortable with the house being empty. Anyone could have used it to watch his home. Knowing it was occupied now made it seem less a threat.
Glancing down the street, he saw the SUV Tobias sat in. Draeger had been watching the back of the house earlier. The two Wolves were damned good. There had been a few times that it had taken even Cullen a few minutes to locate the two Breeds.
Turning from the front door, he made his way through the softly lit house back to the kitchen and the back door. The house was rarely dark anymore. Chelsea kept a lamp on here and there and made it a point to illuminate whichever room she was in.
She wasn’t frightened of the dark, she’d assured him the night before when he questioned her about the habit. She simply enjoyed the light and the feeling that nothing was hidden.
Chelsea didn’t like subterfuge in her personal life; he’d already known that. She didn’t like secrets when it came to her relationships with others and made it a point not to keep secrets that would damage those relationships.
Leaning a hip against the counter, he watched as she worked on her laptop and talked on the phone at the same time. She was still trying to chase down leads on who had taken that contract out on her life, just as Cullen had for the better part of the day. She’d spent every spare moment running down any information or whisper of a lead she could find, as Ashley and her sister Emma made any necessary trips to chase down names or contacts.
“Cullen has several agents working on it,” she said into her phone as Cassie Sinclair listened on the other end. “I know that a few of the enforcers we’ve been working with have some contacts that go much deeper in this game than I’ve been able to make so far. I contacted them earlier and I’m waiting for word back.”
One leg was crossed over the other, her foot rocking rhythmically as she glared down at the video she and Cullen had both gone over more than once.
“There’s no word yet if anyone else picked up the contract or even if it went back out. I’m confident no one within the Cerves organization will be picking it up, though,” Chelsea replied to Cassie’s query on the current status of the contract.
Cassie was silent for several moments, and Cullen picked up the sound of a heavy sigh before she said, “Call me then if you learn anything new, and we’ll do the same. Though so far, Fidel hasn’t given us any information that the Cerveses didn’t include in what they sent to us. I’ll update Rule and get back to you soon.”
Disconnecting the call, Chelsea laid the phone on the table, closed the laptop, then rose and walked into the living room, where she plopped down on the couch and activated the e-pad with a muttered “Dammit.”
The frustration had been building in her through the day, just as the restlessness was building in him. And he couldn’t blame it on Mating Heat; he’d already had her twice, and all before dinner.
“Graeme has a line on an informant who has ties to the police department,” he told her, following her into the living room. “He sent one of Lobo’s Breeds to track him down. He’s hoping to have some information soon.”
She raised her head, her gaze lifting to him as her fingers tightened on the device. Finally, she rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Graeme is so full of shit,” she told him with mocking disgust. “His informant is Esteban Cerves, with Juan and Samara’s blessing, and we both know it. He hit it off with them like they’re old, familiar friends. He should be ashamed of himself.”
“That’s basically Cat’s opinion,” he chuckled, realizing the soft light of the lamp next to her caused lighter brown highlights to shine beneath its glow.
Dressed in cutoffs and a figure-hugging tank, her feet bare, her toes painted an outrageous shade of brilliant blue, courtesy of Ashley, she looked like the teenager he remembered her being rather than the far-too-courageous, too-stubborn young warrior he knew her to be.
“Doesn’t listen to her, though, does he?” She watched him knowingly. “He’s going to use this fascination they have for him to suck them of information while he completely mind-fucks them.” She gave a little wave of one hand to emphasize her opinion. “What’s so damned hilarious is that Cat and I actually warned Samara it was going to happen and she just smiled, as though we were children telling tales. He’s a menace, Cullen.”
He smiled at the exclamation, realizing how often he smiled now.
“So I’ve told him often,” he assured her. “He just ignores me too.”
“He needs his own pride, or a house full of screaming kids.” Pure mischievous pleasure filled her expression before it fell dismally. “Geez, I couldn’t do that to a kid.”
Scheming little wench.