Chapter 8: Whose Are You

\[Tabitha’s POV\]

The next morning, I sit at my desk, fighting to keep my eyes open while the words I try to read blur together again and again.

Fuck, I needed sleep, but I couldn’t get my mind off this damn case, especially given the photo that I found.

Who exactly was it that did it, and what was their purpose?

Honestly, there were plenty of supernaturals that wanted me gone due to what I did, but this seemed more personal than that.

Could it have something to do with my brother and my parents deaths?

No, how could it?

I spent so many years searching for the ones responsible; why would they suddenly come out of hiding?

Sighing, I lay my head on my desk and let the cool wood ease the headache that has taken full effect.

“You should go home.” Sitting up, I watch as Bonnie makes her way toward me, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “No offense, but you look like shit.”

"Usually, when you start something with no offense, you usually mean to be offensive,” I point out. “But thanks for the compliment; I call it zombie couture.”

“Hardy har,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “But seriously, Tab, you really should go and try to get some sleep; otherwise, you’re going to be useless.”

“Yeah, well,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “I still haven’t managed to place the bastard in my vision. How can I possibly leave before that?”

“Easily.”

Frowning, I watch as Bonnie comes around my desk and then grabs me under the arms.

Despite her tiny size, she easily lifts me and then begins shooing me toward the door before shoving me out of it entirely.

“What the hell?” I hiss, glaring at her.

“This area is now under siege by me,” she announces, placing her hands on her hips. “Go home and sleep; otherwise, I won’t let you back in.”

To prove her point, she lets a wave of power slam into me, proving that she could hold me back if need be.

Behind me, I hear a chuckle, and when I turn, I watch Anthony making his way toward me.

Beneath his eyes are bruised, and there is a splint across his nose, but aside from that, his face is as handsome as ever, and it actually pisses me off.

“Getting bullied by Bonnie?” He asks, acting as though nothing happened. “What did you manage to do now?”

For a moment, I don’t speak as I continue to take him in while trying to ignore the sting of betrayal that is beginning to build in me.

Instead of responding, I begin to move, shoving my way past him as others watch us curiously. Of course this would look weird since everyone knew about our relationship, but I didn’t want to continue looking at him, nor did I want to pretend that everything was fine.

However, before I can go too far, his hand is wrapping around my wrist, sending a zing of familiarity through me that pisses me off even more.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Do you really have to ask?” I snap, whirling around and facing him. “Shouldn’t you know better than..."

I don’t get to finish my words before Anthony’s eyes are honing in on my neck and growing wide as anger begins to boil within them.

“You,” he growls, beginning to pull me along behind him and out of the precinct, so we are alone on the still-empty street. “What the fuck is that on your neck? You actually let a supernatural mark you."

Opening my mouth, I prepare to argue, but stop as a sense of satisfaction begins to build in me over causing him the same pain he caused me.

“And?” I ask, pulling my arm free of his hold. “Is that any of your business?”

I knew I was being petty as hell, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I was exhausted, in pain, and reeling from everything that happened in the span of a mere twenty-four hours.

“Of course it is my business,” he counters, but before he can go further, I feel myself beginning to sway and my vision beginning to blur.

“Fuck,” I hiss before I’m falling into Anthony’s arms.

“Tab!” Anthony calls, but it’s much too late; the exhaustion is hitting, and I can’t resist it any longer.

When my consciousness returns, I’m in Anthony’s arms, cuddled against his broad chest while he stares at my door.

Blinking a few times, I turn my head to find that many notes are plastered about, and they all read the same thing.

Whore.

Slut.

Homewrecker.

Again and again, they read the same things, and I don’t need to be a genius to know who the one who did this was.

Unable to control my anger any longer, I reach up and grab the collar of Anthony’s shirt and pull his lips to mine.

“T-tab,” he gasps as I snake my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Whose are you?” I whisper, peeking at the notes again as my need to show her exactly who Anthony belonged to first continues to grow. “Say it.”

Growing quiet, I wait as Anthony takes me in with an unreadable expression, and when he finally begins to relax and a slow smile spreads across his face, the words I knew would come out loud and proud.

“Yours.”

“Then fuck me,” I whimper, feeling my desire flare.

It’s almost like a switch has been flipped, and despite knowing that Anthony is a cheating dick, I want him. I wanted him to help me forget everything that was troubling me and let me just feel for a while.

I don’t have to ask twice before Anthony is unlocking my door and carrying me inside.

We’re barely in the apartment before I'm pinned against the door so that Anthony’s mouth and hands can attack my body and skin.

Where we press together is alive with an energy that is intoxicating, and for a moment I find myself wondering whether or not this was a sign of some deep-rooted connection between us, but I chock it up to all my pent-up rage and aggression.

“Say it again." I whimper, clawing at Anthony’s neck as his teeth bury themselves in my skin. “Whose are you?”

“Yours,” he groans. “I’ve always been yours.”

Always been mine... Then why the hell did he even cheat?

Pushing that thought aside, I press my core against the bulge that is growing in his pants.

Fuck it, right now I wouldn’t worry about such meaningless shit, and I would have my fun so that afterwards I could rub it in that bitch's face.