Page 48 of Retribution
No, I need to exhaust myself. My breaths are even as my legs take me farther from Lucas’ house, the cold air doing a better job than coffee at smacking me in the face like a fucking dildo.
As I come around the corner of a quiet street, my brows furrow as I see red hair swishing over a girl’s back. No one else that I know has that color hair, and I feel compelled to follow her.
Isolde is wearing a pair of leggings that should be illegal, a sports bra, and her feet are encased in a pair of decent running shoes. My only complaint is that it’s too damn cold to be running like that, and I’m itching to pull off my sweatshirt for her.
Fuck, I love my damn hoodies, and I’ve never felt more compelled to give an article of clothing to someone.
I don’t hide the fact that I’m behind her, but she never once glances over her shoulder. Isolde is completely lost to her thoughts as she runs hard down the sidewalk, her steps moving on autopilot.
What is she thinking so hard about?
I’m a workaholic, and I often run to plot out my day, figure out how to deal with obstacles that may be in my way. If I’m honest with myself, she’s the reason why I’m an hour into my morning routine and I still don’t feel any better.
“Are you going to follow behind me and continue staring at my ass?” Isolde calls out behind her.
“Is that an option?” I ask, increasing my speed so I can run next to her.
“Not particularly,” she says. “Are you stalking me?”
I’m an awkward fuck when it comes to emotions. Isolde impresses the fuck out of me. The way that she avoided my entire security team without breaking a sweat the other night blows my mind. However, finding out how she did it?
My cock will probably never recover.
“I am,” I say, deciding to be honest. I need to find a way to tell my boss that I’m obsessed with his girl.
I’m not really sure how that’s going to go down.
A breeze smacks me in the face with her scent and my eyes almost roll back. She smells like my new favorite dessert. I’m going to go buy some green airheads on my way.
Only the green ones though. It would figure that she would smell like this. Those candies are chewy and tough until you can get it to soften over time. That’s how I imagine Isolde to be as well.
“Could you stop?” she asks, picking up the pace.
See, this isn’t going to make me less interested. I enjoy the chase. It’s why I’m so good at what I do.
“Nope,” I grunt. “No scent blockers today?”
“They’re less effective when I sweat,” she winces, sniffing herself.
“Why do you hide? You have scent matches, a pack when you decide you’re ready to accept them. I just want to understand,” I explain.
“I kill people for money, and omegas are thought to be too soft and emotionally unstable to do the work I do,” she says. “The woman who auctioned me off is still in Minnesota, and I don’t want to constantly look over my shoulder.”
“Auctions are illegal,” I grunt. “I know they happen, but it would cost her a lot of manpower to come for you.”
“Ophelia really hates me,” Isolde says, her voice haunted as she turns down another street. Her breath isn’t labored at all, her body completely relaxed as she moves. “I killed the alphas she sold me to so I could get out. They were into snuff sex.”
“What did you just say?” I ask. She just nonchalantly blew up my protective nature.
“They wanted to fuck me until I died,” she clarifies.
“I know what it is,” I growl, my hand running over my short hair. My feet are refusing to work properly, I struggle to keep up with her.
Don’t get me wrong, I knew that it had to have been bad… I didn’t realize how bad.
“I’m sorry,” I wheeze. “I’m having this problem where I want to kill people on your behalf.”
“You don’t even know me,” she says dismissively. “I already have three alphas that I don’t know what to do with, I don’t need a fourth.”
