“Have someone tail them,” Cal calls after him, and Flint’s “On it” filters back into the room.
Now I sit down.
“You good?” Cal grunts at Lynx, still gripping his arm and shoulder. “I don’t want Flint out there by himself.”
I watch as Lynx closes his eyes, nostrils flaring as he breathes in deep, but it does nothing to drain the tension from his body. “I can still fucking smell them.”
Oh. Of course.
“I need to get out of here,” he grits out, finally opening his eyes and looking straight at me with such naked longing, heat rushes up my neck to my cheeks.
“Open the fucking window,” Cal hisses at Jet. “It’s fine. I’ve got him,” he adds when Jet doesn’t move.
Reluctantly Jet marches over to the only window in the room and shoves it open. Fresh air rushes in, blessedly cool on my face, and even Lynx relaxes enough that Cal lets go of him.
“Come on,” he says to Jet, and the two of them hurry outside presumably to check on Flint and make sure the hunters have gone.
The air in the room is still thick with tension, despite the breeze flowing through it now.
Lynx takes a step towards me.
His gaze drops to the leather cut I’m still wearing.
Shit.
I should probably take it off now the hunters have gone. Pretty sure I’m breaking all sorts of biker code by wearing it. As I go to shrug out of it, he darts out a hand to stop me.
“Don’t,” he whispers, and I still. “I like seeing you in it.”
I tilt my head, trying to read him, but it’s hard. I don’t know him well enough to know what he’s thinking without asking. But I’d like to. That realisation isn’t exactly new, but I’d resigned myself to it never happening. “Why?” I ask, voice equally soft. I glance at the window, conscious that anyone outside could hear us, but Lynx shakes his head.
“The hunters are gone.”
Thank fuck for that.
I run a finger along the edge of the leather, then over the prospect badge. “I haven’t earned this.” The memories of the first day I came here are unwelcome, but they pop into my head regardless. “In fact,” I say, knocking his hand off me, “you laughed in my face when I first asked for it.”
Lynx pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “You know why,” he says softly.
“Do I?” I thought I did, but then he made his big declaration in the forest, and now I don’t know what to think. “Is it because I’m human or because I’m your mate?” Just saying it aloud sends a shiver through me.
“Both.”
I’m not proud of the way that word crushes me. It’s not like he hasn’t told me that repeatedly since I discovered shifters exist. But rejection hits me hard all over again.
I still have some pride though, so I step back, successfully shrugging out of the stupid fucking cut, and sling it on the chair.
I do it so forcibly, it slides straight off onto the floor.
I’m petty enough to be pleased.
“Morgan,” Lynx tries, but I ignore him and turn to the door.
I make it two paces before he’s in front of me, and I startle, almost falling over in my haste to backtrack. “Jesus fuck,” I hiss, clutching my chest.
“Sorry.” He doesn’t look it.
He lookswrecked. I’m so surprised by the sudden change in him that I don’t react quickly enough when he reaches out and cradles my jaw in shaking hands.
