Page 89 of Book People

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Sebastian says, with a smile that broadcasts ‘I’m going to kill you the first opportunity I get’.

‘Likewise,’ Jasper says, his own smile implying ‘Bring it on’.

Mine says ‘Behave or I’ll kill you both’, and deep down I can feel anger gathering inside me, a rage that comes from the shock at Jasper’s presence, and the horrible sense of invasion. That he should comehere, tomyvillage, the place where I was safe, and tell me helovesme and that he wants to fix things.

How dare he? Howdarehe?

I swallow my rage, though, and give them both a barbed smile. ‘Jasper, find a seat. I’ll speak to you after the event.’ Then I turn to Sebastian. ‘Yes, I’d love to help out with theMCduties.’

His hostile blue gaze flicks to Jasper and then back to me, and I meet it head-on. ‘Excellent,’ he says, through gritted teeth. ‘After you.’

Chapter Twenty-four

Leave him, C. I cannot bear him hurting you any more.

H

SEBASTIAN

Lisa’s Q&A went off without a hitch and afterwards I stand on the village hall stage, managing the queue of people who have come up to talk to her. She’s answering the stupidest questions with the patience of Job, and generally being a true professional. She’s been a great headliner for this festival and we’re very lucky to have her.

Not that I’m paying much attention to Lisa, because the majority of my attention is aimed squarely at the entrance to the foyer, where Kate is standing with her arsehole ex-boyfriend, aka Fuckface.

She called him an ‘old friend’, but I overheard what he said to her. He’s the man who manipulated her, who hurt her. Who made her, the most intelligent woman I’ve ever known, feel stupid. And now he wants her back. Even if I hadn’t overheard him telling her he loved her, I’d have known who he was andwhat he was after by the acquisitive look in his eyes. That look is not because he’s desperate for a signed copy ofColours.

It’s possessive. It’s what I feel myself whenever Kate is around.

The urge to punch someone has never been stronger and my smile as I usher the next person along to talk to Lisa is probably more feral than pleasant – the woman rears back like I’m about to take a bite out of her, so it’s more than probable, it’s certain – yet I can’t seem to control my face.

There’s acid sitting in my gut, courtesy of the rage that rushed through me the moment Kate introduced me to him. I shouldn’t be feeling this way about a woman. Ineverfeel this way about anyone. I’ve never felt strongly enough about a person before to generate this kind of anger, yet here I am, wanting to plant my fist squarely in Jasper’s face, then fulfil my promise to kick him all the way back to London.

Kate, in her rainbow dress, is talking away earnestly to him while he’s staring at her like a dog with a bone. He might as well be drooling. I can’t stand it. I’m incandescent with fury at how he treated her, at how he made her feel, and now he’s back and he thinks he can just . . . what? Take her? Like she’s his property? Like he’s entitled to her somehow?

Fuck that.

The only thing he’s entitled to is me punching his head in.

She’d never take him back anyway. She has more taste than that and a hell of a lot more self-worth, no matter what she thinks about herself.

Also, she’s currently sleeping with me. Not that I have any claim on her either. This is casual. Casual sex. Casual conversation. Casual arguments. Casual making-up afterwards. Casual. Casual. Casual.

Yet no matter how often I say that stupid fucking word, nothing makes any difference to the intense burning in my gut. The ache, the anger, the need.

‘Uh . . . Sebastian?’ someone says.

‘What?’ I snarl, tearing my gaze from Kate and Fuckface to round on the person who dared to interrupt my internal ranting.

But it’s only Dan. He’s dressed up for the event – he’s even wearing a bloody tie, which he never does – and he gives me a concerned look. ‘You need to settle down, mate. You’re scaring the guests.’

He’s not wrong. There are only a couple of people waiting to see Lisa now, but they’re giving me apprehensive glances.

I swallow my rage and try to look pleasant, but I don’t think I succeed, because they take a few uncertain steps back before turning and leaving.

Bloody wonderful.

Without a word, Dan takes me by the elbow and urges me off the stage and over to the side of the hall, where presumably I won’t frighten the masses. I let him, because even I know I’m being ridiculous.

‘Okay, turn down the volume on the alpha werewolf vibes,’ Dan says mildly. ‘We want people coming back to Wychtree, not running for the hills.’

---