“Get out,” I said, my voice low, deadly.

Damon rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Get. Out.”

He glared at me. “Is that all you can say, ‘Get out’? You need to work with some new material.”

I scrambled out of the bed and in my rush, the popcorn bowl tipped over; the kernels showering the sheets. “Fine! If you won’t leave, I will.”

I marched toward the door. A blur stirred the hair at my temples. Then Damon stood in front of me. My brows snapped low over my eyes and noticed he was blocking the exit. Damon raised his hands. The placating gesture only fueled my anger, making it even more volatile.

“Go back to bed, Sasha. You need rest. Your wounds still need to heal.”

“The only thing I need…” I growled, “is for you to get the hell out of my way!”

With my arms raised, I gave Damon a forceful shove. He didn’t budge an inch. I stepped forward, snarling in frustration, and threw my body into the motion. I thrust out and then my world spun; the floor reaching up to meet me in a wave of dizziness. A powerful arm encircled my hip, another arm catching me around my chest, stilling my fall—careful to avoid my wounds.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled Damon’s voice.

I thrashed in his arms, kicking out like a wild animal. Damon’s hold slipped somewhat before he tightened his grip on my writhing form.

“Calm down!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snapped. “Damn you!”

I landed a blow to his ribs with a backward swing of my elbow. A low grunt satisfied my ears. “You’re all talk! Nothing but lies.”

Damon heaved me upright, his arms trying to wrap around me without disturbing the wound, but my rage granted me strength and I broke out of his hold.

I whirled on him, snarling, “You’re no different from the other males at the were-bar.”

His eyes snapped wide.

Tears of anger burned my eyes. “Saying that a man shouldn’t treat a female poorly just because she’s latent, but you’re no different from those werewolves. You know I ache for love, so you throw salt into the wound differently, only to torment me.”

Damon threw up his arms. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I jabbed a finger at the TV, at the drama still unfolding. “By saying all that shit about how I live through the characters!” One tear slipped down my cheek unbidden. “Isn’t it enough to know it, to know thatIknow it?” I punched a finger into my chest. “But no… You have to give voice to my darkest thoughts.” More tears filled my eyes, and I sniffled. “You bastard!”

Damon remained still and watched me. His eyes grew hard like flints. Then he moved with predatory speed and grabbed hold of me, lifting me into his arms.

“Let go of me!”

His grip only tightened, and he stormed out of the bedroom, hanging a left, and stalked down the hallway.

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

He didn’t give an answer, just swung the front door back, causing it to thwack against the wall from the force. Damon stepped down the porch steps and headed across the yard. I gasped in mortification as the werebears milling about turned their attention toward us—but more toward me. I was being carted away in Damon’s arms like a sack of potatoes. Many eyes glittered with confusion, others in amusement. Damon paid no mind to the looks. He just weaved around log cabins.

Heat crept over my cheeks and down my neck. I writhed in his arms. “Put me down,” I hissed.

Still, he ignored me. Just when I felt tempted to slam a fist into his jaw, we arrived at a cabin. Damon rapped a fist against the door.

“Damon, I swear to God?—”

The door opened. I swung my head toward the person on the other side. It was a female. She had dark black hair, a shade lighter than Damon’s, that fell to shapely hips. A peach dress molded to her form. My brows rose as my gaze dropped to her abdomen. Her veryroundedbelly. The female was heavy with child. Her eyes glittered, lips twitching at the corners. The female glanced up at Damon.

“What is this?” she asked Damon. Her voice was soft like wind chimes, at odds with the brash behavior and characteristics one associated with bears.