"Fuck you."
"Tell me."
"Stay out of my room. Stay out of my life."
His jaw tightens. A muscle jumps in his cheek. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black. For a moment, I think he's going to push harder. Demand answers. Do something worse.
But then he pulls back.
Releases me.
The loss of pressure is so sudden I nearly fall. My legs shake when I try to stand.
I scramble off the table, putting distance between us. My hip throbs. My hands scream. My neck burns where he touched me. My heart is hammering. My hands are shaking. I can still feel the ghost of his weight on my back. Can still smell him—sharper now, mixing with my own scent in a way that makes my skin crawl.
Zero stands there, chest heaving, eyes dark and wild. His hands are clenched at his sides. His shoulders rise and fall with each ragged breath.
There's a bulge in his jeans that he makes no effort to hide.
"Get out," he says. His voice is gravel. Broken glass.
I don't need to be told twice.
I bolt.
My feet slip on the carpet. I catch myself on the doorframe, momentum carrying me into the hallway. I don't look back. Don't stop until I'm in my room with the door locked behind me.
Lean against it. Slide down to the floor.
My whole body is shaking.
My hands won't stop trembling. I press them against my thighs, but it doesn't help. The scars pull and ache and I deserve it, deserve all of it—
He smelled me.
He smelled me.
And he knew.
Not what I am—not yet. But he knew something was different. Something was wrong.
Something that made him hard.
I press my hands against my face. My palms are clammy. My fingers are ice-cold despite the heat crawling under my skin.
I'm still hungry.
But I'm not going back downstairs.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
Chapter 10
Bane
The warehouse smells like salt water and diesel fuel.
