Chapter 31 31
What sort of a jerk?
I inhaled sharply, a sound of pure disbelief, and then I actually laughed. It was a short, incredulous chuckle that felt brittle in my own ears. He stood there, so sure of himself, so arrogantly reading things into me that weren’t there.
“To steal another kiss?” I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “A better one, perhaps? A deeper desire?” I took a step forward this time, fueled by outrage, and chuckled right into his face. “You must be joking, Alpha Aeson. Are you that starved for attention?”
He didn’t flinch. He just looked at me, his expression unnervingly calm. He shook his head slowly. “I’m not.”
“Then you’re sick,” I snapped, the words flying out. “And so full of yourself. I would rather choke to death than kiss you, even if it were my only life-saving option. Got it?”
“Really?” That single word was a quiet challenge.
“Yes. Really,” I hissed, keeping my voice low so Mandy wouldn’t hear from upstairs. “Just so you know, the only reason I came tonight is because of Mandy. I couldn’t say no to her because she’s my friend. And also, I wanted to be clear with you. That’s it. We shouldn’t cross paths again. And don’t you dare for a second think I’m interested in a damn, old, cold man like you.”
For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of something—irritation, maybe—in his eyes. But it was gone instantly, replaced by that infuriating, knowing smile. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was the smile of a cat who’d just watched a mouse try to bluff its way out of a corner.
Then Mandy’s footsteps came clattering back down the stairs. I took a quick step back, putting space between us just as she rounded the corner, her arms full of a thick, puffy coat.
“Here!” she said, slightly out of breath. “You should wear this. It’s getting really cold out, and your jacket is way too thin.”
“Oh, Mandy, you didn’t have to,” I said, my voice sounding unnaturally bright after the tense whisper-fight.
Before I could take it, his voice cut in, his eyes raking over my simple dress and denim jacket with clear disdain. “It’s necessary. That little dress won’t serve you well in this cold night. You’ll freeze before you reach the gate.”
I wanted to snap. I wanted to tell him my jacket was fine, that I didn’t ask for his opinion on my wardrobe, and that I could handle a little night chill. But I couldn’t. Not in front of Mandy. It would be too rude, too blatantly disrespectful to her uncle in her own home, and she’d be stuck in the middle. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper.
So I just took the coat from Mandy’s hands. It was soft and warm. “Thank you,” I said to her, forcing a smile. I shrugged it on over my jacket, immediately feeling engulfed in warmth and the faint, floral scent of Mandy’s perfume.
She pulled me into a tight hug. “Text me when you get home safe, okay?”
“I will,” I promised, hugging her back. Then, without another look at him, I turned, pushed the heavy door open, and stepped out into the crisp night air.
The cold hit me, but the coat held it at bay. I walked quickly down the path, through the silently opening gates, and there was Sheila’s car, idling at the curb like a beacon of normalcy.
I yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, the warmth of the car heater a relief.
“Thank you,” I breathed, buckling my seatbelt.
“No problem,” Sheila said, and she put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb almost before my door was fully closed. She drove fast, like she could feel my desperate need to put miles between me and that house.
We were a few blocks away, merging onto the main highway, when she finally glanced over at me.
“So? How did it go?” She gave me that familiar, teasing, eyebrow-wagging look. “Did you and the mysterious, hot Alpha… you know… clear the air?”
“Spare me, Sheila,” I groaned, leaning my head against the cool window. “We didn’t do anything. It was just… awkward. And he asked a bunch of annoying questions.” I rolled my eyes, recalling his probing about my parents, the pack’s move, his insinuations.
Sheila was quiet for a minute, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Then she said, her voice oddly flat, “I think it’s her fault, you know.”
“Who?”
“Mandy.” The name came out sharp. “It’s all her damn fault. Things wouldn’t be so complicated right now if she hadn’t decided to show up here. Why couldn’t she just attend college in her own pack’s city? Or, I don’t know, anywhere else?”
I turned my head to look at her. The streetlights flashed across her face, highlighting a tightness around her mouth I rarely saw. “Hey, you’re being cold now. This is her maternal city. Her mother’s pack is here. She wants to learn here, it makes sense.”
“Does it?” Sheila shot back, her eyes on the road. “Or is she just a trouble magnet who stirs up drama wherever she goes?”
I stared at her profile. This wasn’t the real Sheila talking. This was the angry, jealous, possessive Sheila who emerged sometimes when she felt like she was losing her spot as my number-one person. I knew the signs.
“Forget it,” I said, turning to look out the window again. The city lights were a blur. “And for the record, I’ve told him we shouldn’t cross paths again. He should stay away. And…” I paused, then added, my voice gentler, “…don’t be so jealous of Mandy that you become bitter. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Jealous?” she scoffed, the sound forced. “Pft. I’m not jealous. Why would I be? I’m your best friend. That doesn’t change.”
“I know,” I said softly. But I damn well knew she was. The knowledge sat between us in the quiet of the speeding car, another complicated layer on a night that was already too much.
“Just… step on it, will you?” I urged her the next moment, my eyes glued to the clock on the dashboard. The digital numbers glowed 8:40. We had time, but not enough for comfort. I didn’t care about speed limits right now; I just needed to be back on familiar ground, behind my own walls.
Sheila grinned, pressed the accelerator, and the little car surged forward. Thanks to her lead foot and the blessedly empty nighttime roads, we were pulling up to the Fang Storm pack gates by 9:30 – half an hour before curfew. The tension in my shoulders eased a fraction.
She put the car in park and turned to me, her expression turning serious, like a coach giving a pep talk. “Okay. Now you just need to walk in there like we just had a totally normal, wholesome girls’ night. No suspicious looks, no guilty vibes. We saw a movie, we ate popcorn, and we complained about boys. Got it?”