Page 57 of Hunted

He cut the call and then stood for a moment, eyes closed, before turning around to try to explain to Mikey.

All he saw was her back, walking away from him towards the bathroom.

“Mikey—”

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Mikey, we need to talk.”

“Seems like it’s all been said.”

Chapter 25

Michelangela locked the door to the bathroom and stood in the middle of the floor for a minute, breathing hard and trying not to explode in a million pieces.

She should have just stayed out there and punched Gunn in the face again.

How the hell could he make a deal like that without even talking to her? Here he was calling her his mate, and going on about how they needed to plan and talk things over and not just do stuff without asking each other, and then he fucking agreed to fucking go off and fucking leave her. Again.

She really should have punched him.

Better yet, she should call Remy and Jaeda and tell them killing him was back on the table.

The only reason she was in here and not doing either of those things was because her mother had told her that sometimes when you were mated to a stubborn, maddening, impulsive wolf, you had to take a few breaths before stringing them up in a tree.

She was trying to be sensible. The problem was, she wasn’t her mother.

She was her fucking father. Impulsive. Emotional. Impatient. Prone to punching people.

And also, she was about to cry.

Michelangela Connors did not cry. Especially, she didn’t cry in front of people.

So she got into the shower and put her face under the spray, because if she had water running down her face no one could tell if there were tears. Even her.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, water in her face, fists clenched. Because there was no way she’d survive letting that damned man walk away from her. Not again.

But what if he cares more about his pack than about me?

Because that was the bottom line. She could fight all she wanted, but you couldn’t make yourself be the most important thing in someone’s heart just by fighting. And if you had to fight or beg or cajole them into it, it wasn’t worth it.

She wanted what her parents had, what the other fated mates in her pack had. What her friends had. A bond that was true and sure, that you knew was always there for you, no matter what. The two of you together, against the whole world if necessary.

Even better, the two of you together, standing with your pack.

The shower was starting to run cool when she heard the bathroom door open. I’m not crying, she told herself, face still under the spray. Not crying. Not. Not.

The shower door opened, letting in a cold draft. Mikey turned her head to see Gunn there, huge and strong, with the same agony in his eyes that she was feeling.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly.

“I’m not crying. I don’t cry.”

“I know. But you are.” He gave an unhappy half-smile, and said simply, “I could feel it.”

That finished her. She closed her eyes as the tears poured down her face.

Gunn stepped into the shower immediately, arms closing around her, ignoring the fact that he was fully dressed. “Hey, now,” he whispered. “Hey. Come on. It’s okay.”