Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 4)

by Hailey Edwards

  “I need a drink,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you at Michelle’s.”

  An upscale restaurant for a simple family dinner, but it was Society owned, and I bet half Mother’s enjoyment came from knowing Boaz, therefore she, had to foot the exorbitant bill in front of their peers.

  No wonder Addie was so keen on cooking. I would hit the grocer to skip the spectacle of shame too.

  Addie watched him go, her shoulders tight, and Mother pounced on that show of weakness.

  “Honestly, I don’t understand why you booked him a room.” Her lips curved in the mockery of a smile. “He never leaves the bar. You might as well have booked him a stool.”

  Hurt and embarrassment colored Addie’s cheeks, and she was the last person who deserved the barbed tip of my mother’s tongue lashing her.

  Crossing to them, I took Addie’s hand. “You’re heading out to dinner?”

  Our sister-bonding time flew out the window as she nodded, her gaze tagging my mother as if to explain the change in plans, but I was okay with a quiet night at home with Midas.

  “We’re just waiting on Boaz.” She pulled herself taller. “He’s always the last one ready.”

  “Why does he need so much gel when he barely has any hair?”

  Addie snickered and held on tight, but Mother’s shoulders snapped back on my periphery.

  “How are you familiar with my son’s dressing habits?” Her lips twisted. “Or do I want to know?”

  “This is Hadley Whitaker,” Addie said coolly. “My little sister.”

  A spark of interest kindled in her gaze. “The potentate.”

  “Apprentice,” I said, my heart booming in my ears, my spine wilting by slow degrees, “but yes.”

  “An unorthodox appointment for a woman,” she said, but not unkindly. “What drew you here?”

  Since it would have outed me to say I came to escape from you, I opted for a more diplomatic response. “I wanted to make a difference.”

  More polite than made me comfortable, she inclined her head slightly. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

  Grateful for a valid excuse to pass, I reassured myself it wasn’t cowardice but prudence to decline.

  “Hadley is going to her room,” Tisdale informed them as she joined us. “She needs to rest.”

  Gwyllgi hearing being what it was, I figured she had followed our conversation from across the room.

  “This is Tisdale Kinase.” I handled the introduction. “Alpha of the Atlanta gwyllgi pack.”

  “Kinase.” Mother’s features hardened. “Your daughter is a neighbor of mine.”

  A swell of pride in her daughter swept across Tisdale’s face. “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Her pack makes an unholy racket. Like small dogs barking.” She tightened her scowl when she noticed her gaze kept sliding down Tisdale’s face, unable to hold her stare. “Do you know how grating that is on the nerves? I try to garden, but what they get up to gives me a headache.”

  Staring right at her, Tisdale admitted, “I have experienced grating on the nerves, yes.”

  I almost laughed, and it was as if Mother sensed it. She flipped her gaze to mine, and I coughed loudly.

  “Perhaps you could mention to her that her neighbors would appreciate some peace.” Mother mashed her lips flat. “I would hate to get the Society involved.”

  “I’ll mention your concerns to Linus,” Tisdale returned smoothly. “He and Grier live between you and my daughter’s pack. If there is a noise problem, I’m sure he’s noticed it too. He can bring it up to his mother the next time they chat.”

  The veiled threat put color in Mother’s cheeks. She was out of favor with the Grande Dame, and she knew it. She had no intention of making a case against Lethe and her pack for that very reason. She just wanted to throw Tisdale’s daughter’s imperfections in her face.

  Huh.

  I was definitely sensing a theme here.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mother clipped out. “Adelaide, I’ll wait for you outside. This lobby does nothing for my allergies.”

  Eyes on me, she snapped out her hand, and I flinched away from it.

  Flinched?

  More like I fell over myself avoiding the blow.

  Except she hadn’t tried to hit me. She wanted to shake my hand.

  Crimson flecks ignited in the depths of Tisdale’s eyes as she read my body language.

  “I was in a fight earlier tonight,” I babbled in explanation. “I’m still jittery with adrenaline.”

  Withdrawing her hand, Mother edged away from me. “I hope you can join us for a tour of the museum.”

  There went the hope they were here for a garden art party. A museum, with various exhibits and private spaces, would be much harder to secure. Maybe impossible. I would definitely talk to Addie about nixing the viewing. Our parents would be total brats about it, of that I had no doubt, but they would be alive to kick their feet and roll across the floor. No art was worth paying your life as admission.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I lied through my teeth. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  Purpose in her stride and phone to her ear, she exited the building and disappeared from view.

  Tisdale’s pointed stare burned a hole through my right ear, straight to my brain, but she didn’t ask me if I was okay or all right, and I was glad. I didn’t want to lie to her. Pretty sure with her keen senses, she heard my knees knocking the whole time I spoke to my mother.

  “Why do people think dog jokes are hurtful to gwyllgi?” Tisdale deftly smoothed over the awkwardness. “I love dogs. I hope she is allergic to them. No animal deserves the treatment she would give it.”

  Lips parting to agree, I shut them just as fast to avoid inviting more conversation.

  Addie swooped in, her head bowed and her fingers twisting in a knot. “I am so sorry.”

  “You’re Hadley’s big sister.” Tisdale patted Addie’s tangled hands. “I’m so glad to meet you.”

  “She’s not that…” Addie mashed her lips together. “Okay, she is that bad.”

  “It’s all right,” Tisdale assured her, but her knowing gaze met mine. “I don’t hold children responsible for the words or actions of their parents.”

  Dread twisted through my chest, a corkscrew to the heart.

  She knew.

  Tisdale knew.

  Or she suspected.

  Frak, frak, frak.

  No. I was being paranoid. That was all. Tisdale didn’t know I was a Pritchard by birth. I was projecting. Yeah. Projecting. That was it.

  Where’s a teleporter when I need one?

  Had I not already given my heart to Midas, I would have offered it up on a silver platter just then. He strode across the lobby, aiming straight for me. He didn’t stop until we stood toe to toe, and he engulfed me in a hug that lifted me off my feet and left them swinging the way Boaz sometimes did when we hadn’t seen one another in months. But I had seen Midas hours ago.

  “I’ve come to rescue you,” he whispered in my ear. “Twice in one night.”

  Forget being independent. Forget being strong. Forget self-respect. “Yes, please.”

  “Mom.” Midas turned me loose then kissed her cheeks. “I’m taking the invalid to bed.”

  Turning her head, Addie coughed into her fist and made a strategic retreat toward the front door.

  “You can call me if you ever want to talk.” Tisdale clasped my hands. “You don’t have to wait for disaster to strike to use my number.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I peeked up at her. “I’ll remember that.”

  “Come on.” Midas looped an arm around my waist. “Let’s get you down for a nap.”

  “Make sure you feed her.” Tisdale pointed at him. “She needs to keep up her strength.”

  Smile on his lips, he bobbed his head and echoed me. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mashing my face into his side, I let him guide me into the elevator blind. “Thanks for the save.”

  “Mom worries about you.” A sh
rug moved through him. “She can be worse than Abbott at times.”

  “No one is worse than Abbott,” I grumped, and told him about my trip to the infirmary.

  Ready to shower, eat, and spend quality time alone with Midas for the first time in days, I stepped into the hall but pulled up short when I noticed the box in front of our door.

  “Are you serious?” I nudged it with my toe. “Another one?”

  “Don’t touch it.” Midas hauled me back. “What if it’s another bomb?”

  After taking a healthy step back, I palmed my phone and dialed Abbott. “Did you leave us a gift?”

  “Oh. Yes. The box. I got your note.”

  More suspicious than ever, I asked, “What note?”

  “A note was taped to the infirmary door, in your handwriting, so I had a nurse drop the condoms off at your door. I would have mentioned it while you were here earlier, but I didn’t want your perfectly healthy sexual appetite to embarrass you in front of your mother-in-law.”

  “Which nurse?”

  “Your friend, Lisbeth.”

  “Thanks.” I ended the call before he picked up on my worry and dialed Lisbeth. “Hey.”

  “There was enough rubber in that box, it would have bounced if I dropped it.”

  “Well, that answers that question.” I slumped against the wall. “You did bring up the box?”

  “Yes.” She hesitated, her quick mind filling in the blanks. “Unless someone tampered with it, it’s legit.”

  “No one else has been up here since we left,” Midas said, reading off his screen. “Only Lisbeth.”

  The security crew must have fed him an update, maybe even a slice of surveillance from our hallway.

  “I think we’re good.” I caved to the awkwardness and blurted, “Bye.”

  Her laughter rang in my ears as the call ended.

  “Someone pranked us.” I let us into the apartment. “But who?”

  Dollars to donuts Bishop was the culprit. Lisbeth was likely in on it too. And Remy. Oh, yes. Remy. Little miss let me forge your signature had clearly been practicing more than signing my name.

  Traitors.

  “The possibilities are endless.” Midas picked up the box and set it inside the door. “Does it bother you?”

  “Everyone in this building is so invested in our personal lives they’re donating condoms to the cause.”

  “Welcome to the pack.” He kicked off his shoes. “Where our business is everyone’s business and everyone’s business is everyone else’s business.”

  Awkward as it was to ask, I was on a roll tonight. “Can they tell we haven’t…?”

  The scarlet flush that raced from his chin to his hairline gave me my answer. “Does it bother you?”

  “That they can smell our business, or that we don’t have business to smell?”

  There. Nice and vague and right to the point. Middle schoolers were probably more descriptive.

  “Both.”

  “We’re moving at our own pace.” I led him to the couch and shoved him down so I could plop across his lap. “I don’t care what the others think they know.” I linked my arms behind his head. “I care that you’re here, I’m here, and we have a few hours alone together before I start snoring and drooling.” I scratched his scalp with my fingernails, and his eyes rolled closed. “You know, really driving home how lucky you are to have me sleeping next to you.”

  “I am lucky.” He nuzzled my cheek. “I don’t mind the snoring or the drooling.”

  What a pretty little liar. “I’ve woken up to find you wearing earplugs.”

  “I did wake up that one time convinced I’d fallen asleep in the forest during a lumberjack convention—”

  Fisting the pillow beside him, I smacked him in the face with it. “Meanie.”

  Midas took the hit but caught my wrist and yanked me forward until I fell against him. Tossing the pillow onto the floor, he trapped my wrists between our chests then coiled his arms around my back to keep me from escaping.

  Amusement sparkled in his eyes, heat too, but it was the soft laughter that convinced me he needed kissing.

  Wriggling to get higher, which caused all sorts of interesting things to happen in his lap, I pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back, and I took us deeper with a nip of my teeth that gained me access to his mouth. The slow glide of my tongue along his coaxed him to moan, and I smiled against him.

  “You’ll only encourage bad behavior if you reward it like this.” He tucked his face in my neck and breathed me in. “You always smell so good.”

  “It’s a patented combination of sweat, deodorant, and whatever I’ve killed recently.”

  “It works for you.” His breath warmed my throat. “It works for me too.”

  Curling my fingers into the soft fabric covering his chest, I asked, “How do you feel about removing your shirt?”

  “Like it’s a trap.” He locked me tighter against him. “You’ll wait until I’m preoccupied then bolt.”

  A snort of laughter escaped me. “I’m not a bolter.”

  “You’re not a great liar, Hadley.”

  Fluttering my lashes, I gazed adoringly up at him. “What if I promise not to budge?”

  “Your promises have more loopholes than fae contracts.”

  “Ouch.” I reared back. “That actually hurt.”

  “Want me to kiss it better?”

  “Hmph.”

  Angling my head away, I showed him what I thought of his offer, which is to say I made it super easy for him to nibble on my throat until my toes curled and I was squirming on his lap. I almost fell off the couch in shock when he smoothed his thumb over the button of my jeans then traced the zipper’s teeth to the apex of my thighs.

  “Midas,” I whispered, hands now free to dig my nails into his shoulders.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He stared at me, crimson flecks dancing in his eyes. “I want you, Hadley.”

  While I worked on unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth, he began making tiny circles that caused smoke to pour from my ears.

  “Me too.” I trembled. “I mean, I want you. Not me. That would be weird.”

  “You are so…you.” He increased the pressure. “I love that about you.”

  “I’m a weirdo,” I panted. “Just say it.” I rocked against him. “I am at peace with my geekiness and my—”

  The orgasm exploded through me like a bottle rocket, and my breath punched from my lungs. I shivered and shook, whimpering as he lightened his touch but kept his skilled hand right where it was.

  Muscles turned to liquid, I slumped over him, my face mashed into his shoulder.

  Linking his arms at my spine to keep me from spilling onto the floor, he murmured, “Now we’re even.”

  “You didn’t have to pay me back.” Shirt got in my mouth, but I couldn’t lift my head. “No one is keeping score.”

  Rubbing his hands up and down my back, he confessed, “I didn’t want you to think it would always be…”

  “I have to stop you right there.” I finally got my neck to cooperate and turned my head toward him. “This is a relationship, not a performance exam. Neither of us have been intimate with anyone in years, right?”

  Hand closing over my nape, he held me down like I could possibly rise. “Years about covers it.”

  As in, he hadn’t had sex in longer than I had been alive.

  “Neither of us lasted five seconds. Who cares?” I managed to scooch close enough to kiss his throat. “I like that we’re both rusty. It puts less pressure on both of us to get everything right on the first try. Or the second. Or the third.” He swallowed hard, and I nipped his ear to be extra helpful. “See where I’m going with this? We’ll practice. We’ll get better. Together.”

  “I already need a cold shower every time you look at me like you love me.”

  “I must do that a lot, you know, since I love you, and I have trouble keeping my eyes off you.”

  His hesita
nt smile mingled fragile hope with shining happiness into the most perfect expression, and just like that, it became my new life’s mission to keep that look on his face.

  “Seriously,” I reassured him. “You have nothing to prove to me, in bed or out of it.”

  “I can’t help but feel graded on everything I do.” He referred back to my exam comment. “Every aspect of my life is witnessed and evaluated by the pack, by rivals, by outsiders, even by my mother.”

  “Please don’t bring your mom into this.”

  He chuckled at the joke, but then he sobered. This was a sore spot for him, and I had to tread softly.

  “I want to get an A plus,” he murmured, “but I would settle for a C minus.”

  “I’m not grading you on sexual performance. That’s…” I discarded several options before I settled on. “That’s not healthy. For either of us.”

  “I want to please you.”

  “The fact you’re mine-all-mine pleases me.”

  Hello, double standards.

  “I want to pleasure you.”

  “You just did.”

  “I want—”

  “—me to film us so you can evaluate your own performance?”

  “No.”

  A horrible idea occurred to me, but it was so great I had to put it out there.

  “I can see it now.” I rallied my strength and sat upright. “Attack of the Gwyllgi Prince with Love on His Mind and a Roll of Quarters in his Front Pocket.” I laughed so hard, I worried I might have peed a little. “I would so watch that.”

  “How about The Necromancer Gets Bitten by a Gwyllgi and Runs Screaming.”

  “Depends.” I choke-laughed. “Are we talking about the same gwyllgi? Like is that the sequel? And has he run out of quarters yet?”

  The bone-rattling growl that pumped through his chest only made it more hilarious.

  To me.

  “You are not funny,” he said, doing his best to keep a straight face.

  “And yet, you laugh.” I thumped his nipple. “You’re only encouraging me.”

  About to fist the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head so I could enjoy the view, I froze at a knock on the door. Beneath me, Midas did the same.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” I slid off his lap onto the couch. “It’s almost dawn.”