I ignored her feeble struggles.
I needed this kiss, needed to confirm she was real, needed to feel she was alive—
A shrill ringtone shattered the air.
Right before I could touch her full lips.
Layla jerked awake as if from a dream. She found her strength, shoving me back hard, furiously wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
"I didn't even kiss you yet." I raised my hands in surrender, somewhat regretfully. "Don't rub so hard."
She didn't spare me a glance, frantically pulling her phone from her bag. She checked the caller ID, and her face went pale.
"Hello?" She answered, her voice still trembling with fading desire. "What?! What happened to him? Okay, I'll be right there!"
Layla hung up, her face frighteningly white. All the flush from moments ago vanished, replaced by fear and urgency.
"What's wrong?" I asked instinctively.
"None of your business." She said coldly, shoving the phone back in her bag, completely different from the woman who'd melted in my arms. "Move. I need to go."
"None of my business? Then whose business should it be?" Inexplicable irritation flooded me. I blocked her path again.
She was rejecting me. Drawing boundaries. Who was on that call? Who had her concern? Who did she care about this much?!
"Him? A man?" I pointed at her phone, my voice growing forceful, barely concealing my jealousy. "What is he to you? Why are you so worried?"
"A friend? Or..." I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to say the possibility, "Or... your lover?"
Seven years. In seven years, she could have met someone, fallen for someone, left me behind as a past not worth salvaging. If someone had touched her, held her, been with her...
That image—Layla in another man's arms, smiling at someone else, letting someone else kiss her. The sweetness she'd just shown me, her tempting lips and scent, belonging to another.
My wolf roared in fury, nearly breaking free to tear apart anyone who dared approach my mate, even just a phantom presence through a phone.
"Kayden Blackwood!" Layla shouted, backed into a corner, bristling defensively. "This is my private life. I have to go!"
This time, she pushed past me with angry determination, grabbing her skirt and running. She moved so fast, her heels clicking frantically on the floor.
"Layla!" I called after her, but she didn't look back. My body moved before my brain caught up.
Can't let her escape. Not this time.
Seven years ago, I'd watched helplessly as she jumped off that cliff, watched her disappear into the sea. That powerlessness nearly destroyed me.
If I let her escape again, if she disappeared again, if I never found her...
I rushed out after her, bursting from the banquet hall, catching sight of her. Layla was climbing into her car. I felt the urgency in every movement as she kicked off her heels, slammed the gas, and peeled out.
I sprinted to the parking area, jumped in my car, started the engine, and followed at a steady distance.
Layla drove fast, racing through streets, running a yellow light.
She was really panicking.
What could make her this frantic?
Who made that call?
