His face turned to the side, and my stomach dropped.
Noah’s fist cracked against my face, spinning me completely around. The force knocked me against the counter, and I hit the floor, landing on my left side. Then he grabbed my ponytail and dragged me across the floor.
The pain in my face matched my head, and I reached up to grip his hands. My feet scrambled to get me in a standing position, but he was already pulling me outside. I scratched and clawed and gyrated my body until I flipped over and he lost hold.
“You’re coming home with me!” Noah snared my wrist and dragged me across the parking lot. “No more Mr. Nice Guy.”
I might have screamed, but I was dazed from him clocking me.
The fear of getting in his car galvanized me like an air-raid siren. Ignoring the pain, I dug my heels in the gravel and clawed a handful of rocks.
When his grip broke, I sprang to my feet and pitched rocks in his face like a baseball player. Noah howled in pain, his hand clutching his eye.
Seizing the moment, I kneed him in the groin and stumbled backward. Noah folded over.
“I’m gonna get you,” he growled. In an unexpected move, he rushed me, gripped my hair, and swung me around until I slammed against the car.
Stunned, disoriented, my heart racing like a bullet, I yankedopen the car door and felt around in his glove compartment for the knife he kept.
Don’t hesitate, the voice said.Don’t you dare hesitate.
As I palmed the knife and faced him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t a killer. Regardless, if I cut him, he would shift immediately to heal, and I’d never met his tiger.
Noah’s hands were braced on his knees as he reeled from the pain.
My hand trembled.
“What do you think you’re doing with my knife?”
I glanced in the car, uncertain if his key was in there.
The reality set in that the knife wasn’t large enough, and I didn’t want to risk getting too close.
“Stay away from me,” I warned him, backing toward the road. “Let me go.”
“Don’t do it, Cecilia. If you run, I will hunt you. Mytigerwill hunt you.” He snarled, baring his teeth.
The glint in his eye set me running. Maybe it was animal instinct, but all I wanted to do was run. I barely felt my feet touching the ground as I shot down the road, terrified of his tiger chasing me. He was extremely intoxicated, though, so even if he shifted, his animal would be disoriented and sluggish.
Or would it?
The uncertainty kept me moving as the air beat in my lungs until I thought they would burst.
Headlights blinded me, and I flew in front of the vehicle.
“Please,” I panted, staggering up to the driver’s side door. “Help me.”
A man with a mustache that curled at the ends rinsed me over with an icy gaze. “Who’s your leader,” he asked in a Southern drawl.
“I don’t… I don’t have one,” I managed through breaths.
“And that’s why you need one.” His window rolled up, and he left me standing in the road.
Then it hit me like a sledgehammer: no one wanted to help a rogue. Why should they? Rogues shunned living in groups and lived by their own rules. No one wanted their problems.
Noah roared my name from a distance, and I took off with no intention of stopping until I found safety.
The Rabbit Lounge’s neon sign blurred into view. When I glanced over my shoulder, I lost my footing and hit the ground, the knife tumbling out of view. My skirt ripped as I struggled to stand and get moving, but everything hurt. My face, my head, my hand, my lungs…
