Black and Brown: Raven Assassins (Ravens #1)

Chapter Thirty-six

Mirage

Mirage was lying in bed atop rumpled sheets, wide-awake at three in the morning.

His dick was hard as concrete as he brushed his fingertips over his bottom lip.

He did that until the sun rose over the horizon.

He was half-dressed and out of his apartment by six, needing coffee and maybe some toast or a bagel for his upset stomach.

No one was in the cafeteria except the workers who served him with their gazes down.

Needing air, he went onto the balcony, where a few administrative employees from the management wing conversed over pastries and juice…until they saw him.

Their faces drained of color before they abandoned their food and scattered like squirrels.

“What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do, huh? Throw a knife into your goddamn cheese danishes?”

Fools .

He went to the side of the balcony to watch the morning traffic he was glad he couldn’t hear this high up.

Mirage welcomed the peace and quiet when his mind was filled with the sounds of an emotional war.

He took a couple of bites of his dry toast, then threw the rest into the trash bin.

An hour later, the patio door opened and closed.

He didn’t respond to the silence creeping up behind him. He recognized the relaxed breaths and inaudible footsteps.

Mirage didn’t need the scent of leather carrying on the cool breeze to know who it was.

“Did you rest well, Grace?” he muttered, not turning around.

Grace let out a low, rumbling hum from so close behind him that Mirage could feel his heart pounding.

“Did you?” he countered.

“Yeah, Grace. Sure did. I slept like the fuckin’ devil on Sunday. Not a thought or care in the world.”

Grace sounded as if he’d just woken thirty seconds ago, but when Mirage turned around, it wasn’t at all how he looked.

His partner’s dark-brown hair was slicked back, and his stubble was neatly trimmed. Even his fucking training fatigues were muster-ready.

Mirage was so sleep-deprived and racked with frustration that he hadn’t bothered to do much with his hair except finger-comb it on the elevator.

He’d also forgotten the jacket to his black fatigues, so his wrinkled brown T-shirt would have to suffice, and so would his untied combat boots.

Grace’s gaze didn’t lower to Mirage’s attire. All of his attention was on Mirage’s face…and his mouth.

“Mirage, can I explain?”

He scoffed at his partner’s audacity.

He didn’t know what Grace had been thinking last night or what had happened to make him pin him down the way he had, but one thing he did know was that Grace’s cop-out at the end had been shitty and cowardly.

“No, you let me fuckin’ explain.” Mirage inched in until they were close enough to kiss, his voice low, speaking his anger through clenched teeth. “If you ever leave me pinned to the motherfuckin’ wall, then turn away from me like that again, Grace, I’ll stab you in your goddamn back with the first blade I draw.”

Mirage left his partner standing there, rejected. The same way he’d done him.