I’m the one who said those cruel things about her to my father. The one who’s been maintaining this brutal distance because claiming her would destroy everything.
But watching them walk away together, watching Julian lean in slightly as he talks to her, watching the way she tilts her head to listen?
It’s torture.
I turn around before I do something I’ll regret.
Every step away from her feels wrong. My wolf snarls, pacing, demanding I go back. Claim her. Make it clear to every male in this building that sheis off limits.
But I can’t.
The side exit leads to a small smoking area tucked between buildings. It’s empty this time of day. I pull out my cigarettes, light one, and take a deep drag.
The nicotine does nothing to calm the rage burning through my veins.
I smoke three cigarettes in rapid succession, crushing each one under my heel with more force than needed. The acrid smell clings to my clothes, my hair, my skin. I light a fourth. A fifth. A sixth.
By the time I hear voices approaching, the ground around me is littered with crushed butts.
I don’t look to see who it is. Don’t need to. I can smell her. It’s that artificial perfume masking the ghost of her real scent. But there’s something else now, too. Something that makes my hackles rise.
Julian.
She has been walking close enough to him that his scent has transferred to her. Or maybe he even touched her. Guided her with a hand on her arm.
The cigarette between my teeth nearly snaps in two.
I hear Violet’s footsteps pause. Feel her eyes on me.
She’s going to walk right on past. Going to pretend I don’t exist, just like she has been doing for two days.
My hand shoots out of its own accord. My fingers wrap around her wrist firmly but not enough to cause pain. The cigarette is still clenched between my teeth, smoke curling up into my vision.
I don’t look at her. Can’t. Not yet.
Julian’s voice. “Uh…Darius?”
“I need a word with Violet.” My voice comes out rough. Gravelly.
The tension in Violet’s arm tells me she has gone perfectly still. “Sure,” she says coolly. “I’ll come to your office after—”
“Now.”
She tries to pull her wrist away. I don’t let go.
Finally, I lift my head. Slowly. Meeting her gaze for the first time since yesterday morning.
Those hazel eyes are blazing with anger. Good. I’d rather have her rage than her indifference.
“I said, I’ll come to your office,” she repeats, each word enunciated clearly.
“And I said, now.”
I see the war playing out behind her eyes. Part of her wants to fight me on this, to assert her independence. But another part recognizes the command in my voice, the dominance she can’t quite ignore even though she wants to.
Julian clears his throat as he motions with the carrier of coffees in his hands. “I can, uh, take these upstairs for you, Violet.”
Her jaw clenches. I notice her frustration building in the way her free hand curls into a fist at her side. If I weren’t so fucking angry myself, I might be amused by how pissed she looks.
