Fine, I’ve lived with shifter males, I know what this is. Power-play tactics, putting me in my place.
But I’m not a shifter. Not really. I have my feet in two worlds.
I set my kitchen back to rights, dig out my stash of jerky, grab a mug of coffee and a beer, and head into my bedroom.
I kick the door closed and then kick off my shoes. Instead of sleeping in a t-shirt, I opt for jeans and a long-sleeve top. I lay in bed with a book in my hands, but I can’t read. I just stare at the words for hours. Finally, I close it and lie down, listening to the dark and wondering who is breathing on the other side of my bedroom door.
I wake up to my anguished screams again. Screams that I never made in real life always manage to escape me in sleep. My bedroom door opens, and I launch myself up, throwing my fists at the man walking in. The rage I feel throbs heavily in the air.
Liam walks towards me, his hands out, placating me. I can hear him say my name, soft and full of concern.
“I HATE YOU!” I howl and rush him. “Get out!” I hiss. “Get out of my life. Get out of my head. I hate you. I fucking hate you!”
“Hey!”
The tone is wrong; the voice is wrong. Clarity rips away the cobwebs of my nightmares, bringing my cabin into focus. My chest heaves, and I blink sweat out of my eyes.
That isn’t Liam. He’s not here. I’m safe.
The wolf, the black wolf.
I slam a fist into his stomach. “Get out.”
He spins me around, somehow keeping hold of my arms and crossing them over my chest until I’m pinned, my back to his chest.
“Get out of my room.”
“Maybe if you weren’t screaming like you were dying, I wouldn’t be here checking on you.” The voice growls. “You’re waking everyone up and freaking Angel out. It’s been half an hour. What is wrong with you?”
What’s wrong with me?
So much.
Riot. It’s Riot. That sexy, sinful voice isn’t one I can forget. The relief I feel is ridiculous. Sweat runs down my face, but I’m shaking. I’m so angry, so full of fury. I lash out anyway because there is a strange alpha in my room, and I don’t know him.
He snatches me up tighter, holding me against his chest. Riot refuses to let me go, even as I struggle and fight against him. He only relaxes his hold when I relax, closing my eyes and breathing in and out the way Frieda taught me.
My pulse gradually calms, and when I tug myself free, he lets me go. I go into the bathroom and splash water on my face. When I come out, he’s lying on the bed, staring at the roof.
My feet stop while my mind tries to figure out what this is.
“What are you doing?” Why is there so much hurt in my voice?
He hears it, too; I know he does.
He arches an eyebrow; even in the low light I can see the mocking smirk he gives me.
“This bed looks comfy.”
“Get out of my room, Riot.”
He grins. “Make me.”
“I don’t know you. I’m not sleeping with a strange alpha in my room.”
“I’m not going to touch you, but maybe if you know there is a dangerous animal here ready to defend this space, you might sleep with fewer shrieks.”
My flinch is something we both ignore.
