Page 15 of Wolf
Rita andDouglas.
I have an album of family photos, but carrying my parents’ names with me has helped me keep their memory alive. It reminds me that although they might’ve been ripped from my life way too soon, they’ll always be close. Photos can age and fall apart, they can be left behind and forgotten, they can be blown up or set on fire, they can be erased. But written in this engraving, no one can ever take them fromme.
As I start to relax, the image of Thorne charging toward me floods my senses and my heart jumps. I pull the sheets tighter around me and snap my eyes shut, letting the events replay. I can’t fight them, so I may as well channel all that energy and put that hit of adrenaline to good use. It’ll prepare me for what I have to donext.
But that’s the problem. It’s wasn’t just that I was in danger. Thorne had his body pressed up against me. His hard edges and my soft curves. His thick, corded erection grinding on me, his hand in my hair, his mouth on my skin. The heated spark of an arousal my body has neverknown.
Fuck. I loved it and I hate myself forit.
I hate him for making this so fuckingcomplicated.
I shove the covers to the side and jump out of bed, starting topace.
What my mind needs is to focus on the fact that he’s been spying on me for a fucking week or more, sending intel to God knows who, most likely preparing to end us. I need to forget his cock and remember the gun he had jammed into my ribs, ready to kill me. This man isdangerous.
He’s myenemy.
Not alover.
His being here is a threat to every aspect of the life Grams and I have built since my parents’ murders. In fact, his presence is confirmation that everything we’ve done so far has been for nothing. Our life here is ruined. It’s all over. We have to start over somewhereelse.
And that’s the dose of reality that I need. For my blood to boil, for my hatred to grow, for all that pain and anger tospread.
I need to put him down, not fall forhim.
I learned a long time ago that love is weak. But pain, rage and hate? They’re the fuels that drive me. And that’s how I’llsurvive.
I swallow hard and return to bed, drifting off with the harsh reality pulsing through mybeing.
* * *
The smell of Grams’ pancake breakfast wafting in through my bedroom door wakes me out of an uneasy sleep. I feel groggy opening my eyes in my room this morning. The curtains are pulled wide and bright light is flooding in through all the windows, making the room’s pale eggshell walls and light cream furniture seem to dazzle. But with blinding light or not, I need to use this time while Grams is busy to pack her suitcase. She’ll be surprised that I went to such lengths, but I’m counting on her buying the whole dog and pony show that I’ll put on until she has boarded the plane out east and is finally safe from TheHunter.
Getting out of bed, I throw on my robe and hop to it. It’s only when I’m halfway through packing that the fog in my groggy brain lifts, the prickle of goosebumps on my skin alerting me to a soberingtruth.
Mybedroom.
Thecurtains.
The light floodingin.
All my curtains were drawn tight when I went to bed lastnight.
Or werethey?
I’m so fucking off my game because of thisman.
But I know for sure that Grams never enters my room on mornings. Not while I’m asleep. She knows how light a sleeper I am, and constantly lectures me about trying to get more beautyrest.
So, if I didn’t open them, and Gramsdidn’t…
Thorne.
That arrogantprick.
He was in myroom!
Dropping the housecoats in my hand, I run back to my room. I look around the space with a discerning eye, trying to determine if anything looks out of place. But nothing does. I walk over to my desk and look out one window toward the abandoned house. Thorne can probably tell my heart is racing from his spot at that window. As panic threatens to steal all the air from my lungs, I raise both hands to shoulder height and flash him my middle fingers. If he’s looking, he’ll get the message. He’s too far away for me to see any response, but as he can see me through his high-tech camera lenses, that’s whatmatters.
