Agent Mathew Lucas

The explosion vibrated around the room with a deafening roar. The walls shook. A painting rattled. My usually slow-beating heart raced as I clenched my fists, the noise growing louder with each passing second.

The tightening of my fists was the only thing keeping me in check. That and the counting in my head.

I’d lost track of how many times I’d tried to count to ten.

Another boom and my patience snapped.

“Seriously, Wilder. Switch it off or put on those damn headphones.”

The explosion echoed again. This time the bottle on the table rattled.

One. Two. Three—

A loud scream pierced the air. That of a soldier losing a limb.

That was exactly what was going to happen to Ethan bloody Wilder if he didn’t heed my warning and switch off the damn game. My patience was paper-thin. Hell, it had a weight count less than that. What the hell was thinner than tracing paper beyond my patience and nerves?

“Wilder.” It was rare that I growled. Even rarer that my fangs extended. The itch in my gums warned me they were close to the surface, eager to tear out the bear’s throat.

I’d drain him dry, and beyond the slurps and the sound of me stamping on the gaming device, nothing but the beautiful sound of a slowing heartbeat would be my soundtrack.

Maybe then I’d be able to get on with figuring out where Hornell was—the former captain who remained the annoying thorn in my side at the top of the Supernatural Investigation Crime Bureau’s Most Wanted list.

That and I’d make the bullshit warrants out on me and my team in the Infiltration Tactical Unit disappear. Though not without taking the heads of the corrupt individuals who’d allowed it to happen.

For a vampire, I wasn’t usually so bloodthirsty—ironic for sure—but I still hadn’t decided if I would do that metaphorically or if I would put them in the ground.

If Callen, my division leader, had his way, it would be the latter.

The sound of blood splattering against the screen with a dramatic grunt of an alien being wounded by a spray of bullets finally did it.

In four strides, I reached the plug socket and yanked the lead.

Exquisite silence.

Which lasted for barely a second before Wilder pounced out of the chair, the movement fast and completely at odds with his huge bulk.

“The fuck you do that for, tosser?”

Angling my head up to stare him dead in the eyes, I huffed out a frustrated breath. “I can’t think with all the stupid blasting. You have a headset. Use it.”

“I would, but I need to listen out for intruders as well.”

“All you had to do was turn the volume down, and we wouldn’t have a problem. You’re being an inconsiderate arsehole.” Any semblance of calm disappeared. My voice shook, my anger vibrating under my skin.

“It was the only way to block out your pacing and heavy breathing,” Wilder spat.