Rowan shifts behind me, his hand settling on my hip. “His name is Silas. He works with my crew, and he understands how people survive bad situations.”
Lena shrinks in on herself. “Like what happened with Danny?”
My throat tightens. “Yeah, like that.”
“He’s not some shrink who’ll make you lie on a couch and talk about your feelings,” Rowan adds. “He just talks to people. Helps them process things they’ve seen or done.”
Lena stares at me, her jaw set. “I’ll meet him once,” she agrees at last, “but only if you do, too.”
“Wait a minute?—”
Rowan’s hand squeezes my thigh. “Sounds reasonable, don’t you think, Ash?”
I grit my teeth. “Sure. It can’t hurt.”
“Good.” She pushes her chair back from the table. “So, when are we moving?”
“Today,” Rowan answers. “No point waiting.”
“Really?” Her initial wariness transforms into pure teenage excitement in the span of a heartbeat. “We’re leaving today? For real?”
“For real,” Rowan confirms, his arms still locked around me. “Car service will be here in two hours.”
Lena squeals with delight, the sound so uncharacteristically girlish that I can’t help but smile. She launches from her chair, almost knocking it over in her haste. “I need to pack. I’m not leaving anything behind this time!”
She races out of the kitchen, her bedroom door banging open wider. Seconds later, drawers start slamming, and hangers scrape across the metal rod of her makeshift closet.
“She took the news well,” Rowan murmurs into my ear, his breath warm on my skin.
“Teenagers,” I say with a shrug. “One minute they’re interrogating your life choices, the next they’re excited about their own bathroom and mini fridge.”
Rowan’s laugh vibrates through his chest into my back. His hand slides up my arm, fingers finding the cheap plastic nape guard that replaced his leather one. “First order of business when we get home is replacing this.”
The casual way he says “home” hooks into my heart, and I twist in his lap to look at him. “I still have yours.”
His eyebrows lift. “You kept it?”
“Of course I did.” Heat crawls up my neck at the admission. “It’s in my dresser.”
Rowan releases me with obvious reluctance. “Go get it.”
I slip from his lap and go to fetch it, conscious of his stare following my every step. The dresser stands against the wall, its cheap veneer peeling at the corners. I pull open the top drawer and push aside folded shirts to reveal the smooth leather guard Rowan gave me.
My fingers trace the indentations left by his teeth during my last Heat, and warmth spreads through me.
When I return to the kitchen, Rowan has cleared the breakfast dishes. He stands waiting, amber eyes tracking me as I approach. Without a word, he takes the leather guard from my hand and places it on the counter.
“Turn around,” he commands.
I comply, presenting my back to him. His fingersbrush the hair at my nape, sending shivers down my spine. The plastic guard now chokes me, reminding me that severing the connection between us never had a chance of working.
Rowan’s fingers find the clasp, his knuckles brushing my skin as he releases it. The cheap plastic falls away, leaving my nape exposed, not used to the cool air after being covered for so long.
“One day,” he murmurs, lips brushing the sensitive skin there, “you’ll let me put my Mark here. Make you mine in every way that matters.”
My pulse jumps, desire pooling in my hips at his words. Not a demand, but a certainty. A future he sees as inevitable as sunrise.
“But until then,” he continues, lifting his leather guard from the counter, “this will keep you safe.”
