Shadowed (Team Zero #4) by Rina Kent

God. I hate him!

I remain fuming as he drives with infinite ease. It’s pointless to fight him. In fact, I shouldn’t be fighting him because this is my golden chance to dissect him from a closer range. But that’s not what keeps looping in my mind.

After the conversation with Nonna, I’m starting to humanise this arrogant arsehole and I don’t like that.

We arrive at Hyde Park. Shadow finds a parking space and doesn’t wait for me as his long strides head to the stables. I might have fallen behind on purpose to watch his arse in jeans.

He does quick work of taking a horse from the stables. The ladies at the registry have heart eyes the whole time he’s talking to them. I stay by the side watching him. It’s not really his appearance, although he does have that messy, blond bad boy handsome face – and those tattoos are to die for. But it’s more about his aura.

Shadow has this easy charm and an infectious perfect grin. I doubt they’d be all over him if they knew the darkness boiling inside, clawing to be set free.

He’s like a storm that’s ready to erupt.

Shadow comes out from the stables, leading a polka-dotted mare. She follows him out with elegant steps and sniffs his neck. Brilliant. Even the mare is all over him.

I’m thankful I opted for jeans and boots today, or riding would’ve become super awkward.

“Why is it only one horse?” I ask once he stops in front of me.

“You said you didn’t know how to ride.”

“So?”

“One horse will suffice. I’m not in the mood to chase you all over the park.” His eyes gleam as he smirks. “Or maybe you want to break your neck?”

“You’re a freak. Did you know that?”

“I get that all the time.” He places his foot on the stirrup and mounts the horse with ease. “Now, hop up.”

I try to imitate him, but my feet catch in the stirrup, and I almost fall backwards. A strong hand clutches my arm and hauls me up. I end up sitting sideways in front of Shadow. My legs are dangling from the side of the horse.

His strong arms are on each side of me. One around my back and the other grazes my stomach with his hard chest glued to my arm. What the hell is happening in my lower abdomen? Why is it contracting out of nowhere?

I focus on his arms around me, and it’s the wrong damn distraction.

The colourful tattoos are brighter under the afternoon light. The snarling tigers are still gruesome but less frightening than usually.

Hot breaths tickle down my neck, and his scent overwhelms me. I’m so tempted to glimpse at his eyes and see what range of grey they are, but if I do, I’d be treading into a territory I have no idea how to handle.

Despite the chaos in my body, I motion ahead. “What are you waiting for?”

The sooner we start the faster I’ll get rid of this overpowering sensation caused by his closeness.

There’s a slight pause. I can feel his eyes digging a hole at the top of my head, but I concentrate on breathing.

Shadow gently kicks the mare into a moderate pace. I release a breath.

Other riders are on the same path, but Shadow keeps taking several twists until people become fewer.

The entire time, my body is turning into a ball of fire. The more I focus on the flexing of his bicep and the easiness with which he handles the mare, the harder my breathing turns. My nipples tighten and throb against my bra and thin top.

I clear my throat to delude the silence and hopefully the tension. “I never took you for the type who rides horses.”

“Neither did I,” he says thoughtfully. “I’m a fast learner.”

Wait. He learnt this for Nonna’s sake? I purse my lips. That doesn’t humanise him. Nope. Not one bit.

“Have you considered maybe fast learning how to stop being selfish?” I mock. Even if deep inside, I think he cares about Nonna and those children.

“Why would I do something so boring?”

“Because you’d want to be a better human?”

“That’s even more boring.” He gives me a condescending stare. “You’re one of those who believe in world peace rubbish?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Delusions. That’s what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with striving to be the better version of oneself.”

My voice rises. I’m doing all this because I want to be better. I can’t be a good officer or a decent person until I purge all this vengeful energy out of my system.

“Aye, Mother Teresa.” He mocks.

“What? Everyone would want that.”

“I’m not everyone.”

“Obviously.”

The grey of his eyes is clear, and for some reason, that soothes me. “You shouldn’t be everyone either. Be yourself, everyone else has their own shit.”

“You mean, everyone else is taken?”

“My version is better.”

I smile despite myself. “You can’t change a quote because you have a better version.”

“Sure I can.”

“Do you twist everything around?”

He’s grinning wide. “Whenever fucking possible.”

“You’re weird.”

“Aren’t we all?”

No. He’s more than the normal weird. And it’s pulling me in, dammit.