Page 43 of Cold Foot Revenge
Slowly, painfully, she sat up. The ache was lessening by the moment, but she still remembered what had happened. It was carved into her bones.
“You aren’t supposed to give me orders,” she said in a horrified whisper.
“I…” He frowned and pulled his T-shirt off his head, then handed it to her from too far away, like he didn’t want to come closer. “I can’t give orders. I’m not an Alpha. I’m not even a shifter.”
A sob filled her lungs, and she stood in a rush, grabbed the T-shirt, and fumbled with putting it on until the fabric covered her body. The hem of his oversized t-shirt fell to her knees and she hung her head, gripping the sides of the shirt with her clenched fists. She was panicking. She could feel it building inside of her.
“I want you to leave!”
“No.”
Pissed, she told him, “I need you to leave me alone. Everything was fine before you came along. You came here and made my life seem little and unacceptable, and I changed, and now I’m—”
He kissed her. Just pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t a violent or demanding kiss. He was being careful with her injuredlip, but his arms were around her. He was holding her so tightly and something happened to her body. She’d felt like she was breaking apart, but now, in his arms, she felt like she was calming down. Each pass of his lips, each lap of his tongue, each gentle caress was settling her overreactive system down.
Don’t run.
With a gasp of relief, she wrapped her arms around him and melted into him. He disengaged from the kiss and hugged her so tightly, swaying them gently. “You taste like blood,” he murmured.
She could feel his heart beating so hard against her chest. “We should go. They can still find us. You have to drop me somewhere and get away from me.”
Warm tears streamed down her cheeks because she knew her life was over. It was all over.
She was met with silence, and him easing back. Dylan lifted his fingertips to her chin and eased her face up to look at him. Whatever he saw on her face, the worry in his gaze was replaced with shards of anger. “You taste like blood,” he said again. “What happened to your lip? Why is your face bruised?”
She tried to shake her head away from his touch, but he did it again—he lifted her chin. “Don’t run from me. Run from those assholes,” he gritted out, twitching his head in the direction they’d come from. “Not me. I’m not hurting you.”
“You made me Change,” she whispered, trying to grenade him.
“Not on purpose. I don’t know what’s happening, but listen to my voice, Roxy. I would never hurt you on purpose.” He stepped closer. “Tell me to, and I’ll go back there and unload my weapon into whoever hit you in the face. No one gets to touch you like that.”
“It’ll heal fast,” she said in a rush. “It’ll be gone in half a day.”
“That’s half a day too long.” Dylan knelt down and cracked his knuckles.
“What are you doing?” she asked, confused.
Dylan blew out a breath and then turned his face to the side, exposing his throat to her. “Who did this?”
He was down in the most vulnerable position, the tenderest part of him exposed to her.
No male had ever done this to her before.
“I won’t tell you to Change anymore. I didn’t know it would be forced for you.” He beseeched her with his eyes. “Roxy. Who. The fuck. Did this to you? Was it Grave?”
She nodded slightly. “He took all the money I made tonight, and he took my car, and he…” The tears were all filled up again, so she blinked hard and hung her head.
“He slapped the shit out of you and then chased you down the fucking main drag of town.”
“Yes.”
Dylan stood and walked off.
“Where are you going?” she asked, following a few steps.
“I need a minute,” he called without looking at her.
She waited here on the edge of the trees as he made his way to his truck and got inside. Through the tinted window, she could see him staring blankly ahead. And then suddenly, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel over and over, and yelled a terrifying sound. She’d never seen a human look so angry as he pressed buttons on the screen of his truck. He leaned his arm on the console and ran his hand up and down his short beard as he talked to someone. To himself?
