A cold laugh escapes me. “Trust me, I’m not here for you.”
Caleb sizes me up, and I despise the way my skin crawls. “Have you told anyone?” his deep voice demands.
My brows furrow. “About us?”
I almost want to laugh.
“There’s nous.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of his voice, and I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop the intense tingling that takes over my body.
Screw him.
“No.” I flare my nostrils. “I haven’t told anyone, and I don’t wish to.”
“Watch your tone with me.”
My eyes narrow at the edge of his words. “Or what?”
He steps closer, his height making me feel incredibly small, but I keep my shoulders rolled back and my head high. I’ve been bullied the entirety of my life, but I’m not going to let him do it, too.
“Do not disrespect me.”
“Like how you’ve disrespected me?”
“Keep that mouth shut, pups.”
My wolf cries out at the silly nickname, but it’s not one of endearment; it’s used to patronise me.
“You’re not my Alpha, andneverwill be. I don’t need to respect anything about you.”
His eyes somehow turn even colder, not an ounce of emotion that’s not irritation inside.
“You want me to stay away from you? Fine. I will. But you’re the one who has come after me twice now,” I snarl through my teeth. “So why don’t you leave me alone?”
Caleb’s jaw ticks.
“Glad we had this talk,” I say as I turn away.
Before I can take a proper step, his large hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me backwards. I yelp and tingles shoot down my arm, the bond inside me begging for more.
My eyes flick up at him as he tugs me to his side, and when my hip bumps into his, I hiss at the wound he left on me a few days ago. He studies my reaction before gripping onto the hem of my hoodie and raising it.
“What are you doing?” I bite out, but it’s too late. “Stop.”
His gaze lands on my healing wound. I took the dressing off after it kept peeling at the edges, thinking it would be better to air out.
Caleb’s forehead creases as he studies it. “Did you fall over?” he asks, his tone slightly patronising.
I recoil. He must be delusional.
“You did this.” I pull myself away from his grip. “When you tackled me the other day.”
He shakes his head. “Impossible. You would have healed by now, and I didn’t tackle you, you tripped over, and I crashed into you.”
I adjust my hoodie and control my breathing. The last thing I want him to know is my inability to heal.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
