Then the shock on his face morphs into something darker. The air gets thicker, heavier as his hands curl into fists, and he hisses, “I amnothinglike that cunt.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, the terror trying to claw its way out. The words stick on my tongue. Once I say this, there’s no going back. But I have to know. “You’re a shifter. Just like he is.”
It’s like the whole house just stops and holds its breath.
Like me.
I’m frozen, caught in his unrelenting gaze, my heart rate through the roof.
This is it.
He’s either going to laugh in my face or rip my throat out. Neither all that appealing.Jesuswhat am I even thinking? The former, definitely the fucking former if I have to choose.
Lynx tilts his head to the side, like he’s listening.
Either that or deciding the best way to kill me.
I grip the bottom sheet, needing something to do with my hands to stop them shaking.
Then his expression changes, resignation, and is that...fearin his eyes?
Nah, can’t be.
If he is what I think he is, then I’m the only one who should be scared here.
And I am.
I so fucking am, but also... curious. What the hell is wrong with me?
“You saw them,” he says eventually. “In the forest Saturday night.”
My mouth is like sandpaper, so I nod instead and reach for the water at the side of my bed. My hand shakes so badly that some spills over the side of the glass, and he takes it from me with a huff.
“Here.” He holds the straw for me. “I won’tbite.” He grins as he says it, showing all his fucking teeth. His eyes shine with amusement, but it’s not the fun, easy kind. He’s laughing at me, not with me.
I’m thirsty, so as much as I’m desperate to shy away from him and slide to the other side of my bed, I force myself to lean forward and drink. It’s surprisingly cold, and for a second I forget everything else and drain the glass.
He waits until I’m finished and then sets the glass back down. “Why did you lie?”
I don’t bother pretending I have no idea what he means. What’s the point? “Because I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
“Fair point.” He clasps his hands, drawing my eyes to his bare forearms. A dusting of dark hair covers tanned, tattooedskin, the muscles underneath defined and obvious. I’ve always had a thing for forearms.
“How do you have tattoos? Don’t you heal from everything?” I have absolutely no idea where that came from. Maybe it’s shock?
Pretty sure I shocked him too because his eyebrows rise, and he stares at me like I’m insane.
“It’s not easy for us. But there are ways.”
There.
That’s as good as an admission.
“So you are...shifters?” I whisper the word when my voice catches.
“Yes.”
Fucking hell.
