Page 48 of Pack Kasen: Part 3
I nod at Troy, who smiles at me, until a low growl just behind me convinces Troy to turn around and very quickly walk away.
It wasn’t that long ago that I pretended to be interested in the handsome, blond-haired and honey-brown eyed enforcer to antagonize Aren when he was keeping me in his cage. It looks like Aren hasn’t forgotten that and isn’t about to in a hurry.
I peer over my shoulder.
Aren meets my gaze. “Problem?”
“I heard that.”
“Heard what?” he asks, his expression is innocence personified.
Shaking my head, I continue outside.
I’m on my way to the creek when I stop feet away, my eyes lingering on the forest across from it. The forest where Cristofer hid behind a tree and shot me in the gut with a crossbow. My fingers skim my belly. I’m one hundred percent healed now, with not even a hint of a scar to remind me of what happened.
But the memory of that bolt ripping into my skin hasn’t faded.
I’m back in the old mine, my hands slicked with blood, terrified I won’t be strong enough to fight Cristofer off me when he comes back to bite me.
My breath catches in my throat, and my heart races.
I force it to slow.
Bad things have happened to me in the past, and more will happen to me in the future, but I refuse to let this scar me.
I take a breath and release it, repeating the process until my breathing has steadied.
It’s not like me to let something scare me, and I’m not scared. Not truly. But every time I pass by that spot beside the creek, I hesitate to go any closer, and I can’t force myself to sit there to prove I’m not afraid anymore.
Because I was lying to myself when I said I wasn’t scared.
I am.
“Kat?” A hand lands on my shoulder.
I spin and hit out, pulling my punch two inches away from Aren’s face.
He doesn’t do a thing to protect himself, just looks at me. “There’s another place.”
Dropping my arm, I scowl at him. “I thought you were eating.”
“I was, but I wanted to show you something first.” He snags my hand and pulls while I’m not paying attention.
Annoyed by his refusal to leave me alone but more curious about what this place is, I trail him past the creek and into the forest.
“This won’t end in sex,” I tell him in case he starts getting ideas. “And I didn’t give you permission to hold my hand.”
“This isn’t about sex.” He peers over his shoulder. “And I don’t need permission to hold your hand. You’re my mate, and we’ve done a lot more than hold hands.”
And I honest to godblush, though I have no clue why.
He grins.
I glare at him, which, as usual, has no effect on him. He just squeezes my hand and treats my glares like I’m flirting with him. “Were you really going to let me punch you in the face if I hadn’t pulled it?”
“Do you want to punch me in the face?”
“Sometimes.”
