“What the hell happened in there?” he asks, putting a firm hand to my lower back and guiding me to the parking lot.
“My books,” I say instead, because I apparently have my priorities vastly mixed up.
He passes me my bag and I clutch them to my chest, like they contain all of the answers. “I caught them when I startled you. My apologies,” he says, and the smooth cadence of his voice helps to keep me from freaking out.
“No, thanks for getting me out of there. And, well, Nick’s theory is,” I trail off, embarrassed.
He looks down at me and arches an eyebrow. At this point we’ve arrived at my SUV and I unlock it to set my books in the back seat, but don't get in yet.
I take a breath and look at a point over his shoulder instead of directly at him. “Pheromones.”
From my peripherals I see his eyes widen. “That would explain it,” he rumbles, and I look at him fully as his lips twitch. “I was headed down the road and something was nagging me in the back of my mind to check out the bookstore,” he laughs.
I groan. “Is this seriously going to keep happening? No wonder women don’t hold out long before picking mates,” I sigh, defeated before I’ve even begun. I perk up a bit at a thought. “Wait a minute, why didn’t you go all testosterone crazy?”
He rubs the back of his neck adorably. “I was more worried about getting you away from that mess safely than fighting.”
I catch a flash of pink and grimace. “Fuck, and I thank you by burning the shit out of your hands. I’m sorry.”
He waves me off as I dig around in my car for the emergency kit, pulling out a pitifully small packet of burn cream. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing I suppose.
“Trust me, it looks worse than it is,” he consoles as he spreads it over the tender skin.
I climb into my car, yet hesitating before I pull away. “I owe you one, Soren. Thanks.”
He gives me a half smile. “My pleasure, Ezra. Take care.”
I carry on with my errands feeling unsettled and off kilter. I pay the electric bill and decide to swing in to pick up some clothes for Elias, since I swear, the kid must wash his clothes in a woodchipper when it’s his turn.
Pulling into the store, I eye everyone cautiously, waiting for the slightest hint of their brains turning to mush. When I get the usual polite greetings, I optimistically head in, do the shopping, and checkout breathing easier.
I’m almost out of the store when a display catches my eye; beautiful, shiny pocket knives with multicolored blades. I double back, enraptured, and physically have to slap myself out of it.
Fucking Achilles heel. Ignore the pull, Ez, don’t get distracted.
“Anything you’d like a closer look at?” a man purrs, pupils blown and my lips curl back in a snarl.
“Nope.”
I sidestep him, hurrying out to my SUV and acutely aware of the eyes following me across the parking lot. I toss my bags in the trunk, getting increasingly pissed all the while. When I hear the scuff of a shoe, I lose all patience, bringing a flame to my hand and turning around with a furious expression.
“Personal. Bubble. Step in it and I won’t hesitate to make you bald, Cody.”
I glower at the blonde haired guy that was a year behind me in school. With as obsessive as he is with his stupid hair, I wouldn’t put it past him to ask me to hit him instead. His pupils are dilated and I’m so frustrated I could scream.
He backs off and I get in the car, slapping the button for the locks instantly. I start driving home, breathing through my nose to try and calm down. It’s only been one afternoon and I’m already over this.
I’m almost home when I see Soren walking, but he hasn’t caught sight of me yet. I slow down despite knowing I should just head home. But these three newbloods showed up out of nowhere, starting a chain reaction of annoying revelations, and I can’t help but be intrigued. Twenty-three years of being bored out of my mind, and now it’s been a whirlwind of excitement in just a couple of days.
A flicker of movement in the shadows between houses draws my eyes and I roll down my window, cursing. “Watch out!”
Soren’s head whips towards me, proving I only succeed in making things worse, and the man steps out of the shadows with his gun drawn. Soren explodes in a flurry of quick, efficient motions that make my lady bits sing. Knocking the man’s arm to the side, twisting his wrist to force him to drop the weapon as a shot fires off, and slamming him face first in the grass. With a knee pressed to his back to keep him trapped, I pull over and call the police to come pick up the asshole that meant to mug the newblood.
We may be brutal, but that doesn’t mean outside of the Gauntlet we can go around killing anyone we like.
“Are you alright?” Soren asks after the man is tossed in the back of a squad car and taken away.
I snort. “You’re the one that almost got shot.”
