Page 27 of A Pack of Pumpkins
Bram steps into my space, cups my cheek in one hand, and rubs his thumb over my skin. “We’re not sure yet. But we’re going to figure it out,” he vows.
I think of a swirling shadow and rumpled blankets. I’m not ready to tell them about that yet. Especially not in front of Victor. He already dislikes me and thinks I’m some attention-seeking liar. No need to fuel that with shadow alphas in my room.
“We’re going to go start dinner. Wanna come down?” Jack asks.
I nod. “I’ll meet you down there. I’m just taking this all in.”
They head out as I scan the room again, trying to figure out where a madman might’ve escaped or hidden. As I do, my gaze snags on a piece of paper hanging from the wall above the bed.
It’s a drawing—of me.
“That’s not usually there. The asshole hung it there when he destroyed all of my things.”
I turn to where Victor still stands in the doorway, staring at me, as if he can’t stand to be in the same room with me, but also can’t look away.
“But it’s your drawing?” I ask. I have to know.
We stare at each other for a long beat, each daring the other to look away first.
“Yes,” he finally concedes in a sharp whisper.
My heart soars as my stomach plummets.
“Why are you drawing me?” I ask. His eyes on me are so dark and intense that I fear what I might find if I stare too long.
Victor pushes off the doorframe and stalks into the room. I step back, my spine hitting the wall. He’s immediately in my space, hand pressed to the wall on either side of my head. His dark brown eyes, identical to Dagan’s but colder, lock on mine, searching. Heat blooms in my chest, and I hate how much I want him to keep going.
I meet him head-on. I don’t know what this is, but I do know something has to give. The Ember Pack are my mates. That includes Victor.
“What do you want me to say, Spooky Girl? That I draw you because you haunt me? That you’re haunting my every waking thought, and that at night I sometimes dream about your face? That you're fucking magic, Spook?”
I stare up at him. I can’t breathe. He’s stolen every last sense of time and space with his words.
“I don’t understand,” I say. Because I don’t. If this is how he feels, then why has he been holding back from me? Not just holding back. He’s gone out of his way to be cruel.
“You don’t need to understand. You just need to get out.” He says the last part with a snarl that sends fear skittering up my spine.
He pushes off the wall and steps aside, giving me a clear path to the open door.
I stare at him, unmoving. “Victor, why—”
He cuts me off with a growl.
My spine stiffens, and my omega takes over. Before I even realize what’s happened, I’m out the door and he’s slamming it in my face.
At first, I’m stunned. I want to crumple. But then, fury wins out. I stomp down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Is he always such a Goddamn asshole?” I demand of the entire room, and no one in particular.
“It’s definitely a majority of his personality,” Dagan signs. Jack translates, though I’m pretty proud that I got half of it on my own.
“What did he do?” Bram asks, standing from his chair as if ready to stomp upstairs and confront Victor. I don’t want him to. Escalating won’t suddenly make Victor become some easygoing person who can stand to be in a room with me. It just… really hurt to feel like we were making progress before being unceremoniously thrown out on my ass.
“Nothing. He’s just… an ass. It’s fine. I can handle it,” I say it with absolutely no confidence.
Bram looks unsure, but sits back down.
“So, I have a question.”
