But then I remembered who the fuck I was and who the fuck he apparently thought he was.
Tristan was already jogging backward.
Coward.
“Well, thanks for that.” I marched toward Jessiah.
His shadowed face became visible as I approached, and he did not look happy.
“What gives you the right to order my friends around?”
Jessiah’s wings were still outstretched. And damn. Wolf’s golden wings were impressive, yes, but these?
Nobody else in Scarlata had wings like his. Not one of the handful of other angels living here had this kind of wingspan.
Stop thinking like that. It’s the ale getting to you, making your thoughts wander to his wings. And to his strong thighs.
With a shake of my head, I cleared my mind, focusing solely on howirritatinghe could be.
“I told you to go home. Not pick up some poor male from the streets and fuck him in your bed.”
My hackles rose. “Why do you care who I do and don’t fuck? That’s quite literally none of your business.”
His jaw tightened. “It’s my business.”
No, it wasn’t his business. And why the hells would he think it was?
“Look.” I huffed out a frustrated breath. “I know you think you have to look out for me because you’re, like, sworn to protect Huntyr or something, but I can assure you, I’m fine on my own.”
For a moment, all he did was study me. Eventually, his expression still stony, he said, “You’re the furthest thing from fine, Rummy.”
An emotion I typically ran far, far away from—one that left me feeling too exposed—crept up my throat, tightened my lungs. I shoved it away before it could wrap its fist around my heart and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
“Don’t ever think you can control me,” I spat, holding tight to my anger. “You’re nothing but a fucking errand dog for your brother. You’re pathetic. So pathetic, in fact, that you’d rather babysit me than lead your own stupid little life. I feel sorry for you.”
I held his unmoving gaze.
Hurt. Care.
Something. Anything.
How could this man be so unshaken? I wanted him to get angry. I wanted him to know how pissed I was. I didn’t need him to look out for me. I didn’t need his—whatever the fuck he’d beentrying to give me for the past two years. Friendship? I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t give a fuck.
“Now, move.” Shoulders back and chin lifted, I took a step closer, waiting for him to move his wings so I could pass through.
After several seconds, I worried he wouldn’t budge at all.
But eventually, he did. And eventually, I strode past him with a huff.
Not another fucking word.
I shouldn’t have expected him to yell after me. I shouldn’t have expected him to follow. To give me more orders.
But I did. There was no helping it.
And when he didn't, the familiar hollowed hole in my chest returned.
