I start heading for the street, stomping hard enough to damage my heels, my whole body vibrating with fury and something else I refuse to even acknowledge.
Footsteps come from behind me, faster than mine, and then Kain’s hand lands on my arm. His fingers wrap around my bicep, and suddenly, I’m being spun around.
“What the—” I start, but he’s already pulling me back toward his car, his grip firm but not painful, and my brain short circuits trying to process the audacity. “Stop! Let go of me!”
He does neither. He just keeps walking, dragging me with him, and I’m too shocked to properly resist until we reach his car and he yanks open the passenger door.
“Get in.”
“I don’t want to.” My chest is heaving, my breaths coming fast and angrily.
“Stop being so stubborn.”
Then, his hands are on my shoulders, turning me around and guiding me into the seat with a combination of strength and care that makes my skin tingle. His entire frame crowds into my space as he reaches across to buckle my seat belt, his chest brushing against my shoulder, the heat from his body overwhelming every sense I have.
I bite my lower lip hard, using the pain to shut down the heat threatening to build low in my belly. He closes my door, and I turn my face to the window as he moves around to the other side. He gets in behind the wheel, and the car suddenly feels too small.
“What’s your address?”
“8192 Cedar Hollow Lane,” I say tightly, keeping my eyes on the front passenger window.
He starts the engine and pulls out of the lot.
The drive goes by in complete silence. I watch the streetlights fly past as the familiar route to my neighborhood unfolds in darkness and amber light. I can feel him glancing at me, brief looks that I pretend not to notice, his attention like a physical weight that I can’t escape in this enclosed space.
My reflection in the window shows a woman with tight shoulders and a clenched jaw, and I hate that I look as agitated as I feel.
The instant the car stops in front of my apartment building, I’m unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.
“What? You’re not even going to say thank you?”
Kain’s voice stops me with my hand on the door. I turn my head, finally looking at him directly for the first time since he forced me into this car.
“I told you I could’ve walked. I didn’t need your help.”
I exit the car and step up to the front door. Without so much as a glance over my shoulder, I unlock it, head inside, and climb the stairs. But the second the door to my apartment closes behind me, I lean back against it, eyes closed, trying to breathe through the chaos rioting in my chest.
My wolf is whining with sounds of distress and longing that grate against every raw nerve I have.
I cross to the window—can’t help myself—and peek through the curtains.
His car is still there with the engine running. Just sitting in front of my apartment building like he’s waiting for something. One minute passes, then two. Finally, he pulls away, taillights disappearing down the street.
As soon as he’s gone, my wolf whimpers again. She is louder, more insistent now.
I ignore her and grab my keys. I march back outside and across the street to the liquor store that’s somehow still open despite the late hour. The bell dings as I push through the door. The clerk looks up from his phone, takes one look at my face, and straightens to his full height.
“Can I get a six-pack of that beer, please, and a bottle of that red wine?” I ask, pointing.
His eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Rough day?”
“You have no idea.”
He doesn’t ask questions, just pulls bottles from the shelf behind him and bags them up. I pay, grab the bag, and walk back across the street.
Inside my apartment, I don’t bother with a glass; I just twist the cap off the bottle of wine and drink straight from it. The slight burn slides down my throat, but I welcome it.
I sink onto my couch, bottle in hand, and let the anger and hurt and confusion wash over me in waves.
