by Melissa Haag
“Why do you need to know?”
His aggression hadn’t slipped to concern or desperation, so I knew there were no extenuating circumstances to prevent me from kicking his butt.
I let him have it.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, I found Carlos leaning against one of the buildings across the street. My knuckles were bruised and my foot sore, but it was nothing compared to what I’d done to the two men.
“Better?” he asked, eyeing me.
“Much.” But for how long?
“Want to run back?”
I nodded. I had a feeling I’d need to do a lot of running and hiding here.
We made it to the parking garage in less time than it took to find my marks. Bethi and Luke were a few feet back from the guard at the door. When they saw us, they spoke to him; and he buzzed us through.
“Come on. We’ll show you to your apartment.”
We followed Bethi up three flights of stairs and opened a heavy metal, yet nicely painted, door to a plush hallway.
“Here’s your key,” she said, handing it to me. “It’s for the third door on the left. If you keep walking, we’re around the corner a ways. Carlos has Luke’s number if you need anything.”
They left us just outside our door.
I shoved the key in the lock and turned the handle, opening the door to a spacious apartment. I did a quick walkthrough. Comfortable couch positioned in front of a huge TV. Treadmill behind the couch. Nice. Breakfast bar in the kitchen. Cupboards stocked with dishes and fridge loaded with food. Then, I walked down the short hall. Bathroom on the right. Bedroom on the left. That was it.
“One bedroom?” I said, staring at our bags, which were already on the bed.
“The rest are sharing two bedroom apartments. Jim is taking a couch in one and Sam a couch in another. They thought it would be easier if you were kept separate. Michelle said bigger apartments are harder to come by, especially short term.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” I said quickly. “Just observing.”
“Would you help me with the bandages? I think I’ll take a shower then go to sleep.”
“Sure.”
And right there in the hall, he tugged his polo shirt over his head. I’d seen his bare chest several times already. Yet seeing him take off his shirt was completely different. I loved the roll of his muscles as he moved. He turned his back to me.
Carefully, I peeled the tape back and removed the bandages. Scabs clung to the deep wounds; however, the lighter abrasions showed recently healed pink skin.
I ran my fingers gently over the marks, unable to believe how incredibly fast they were healing. It took a few seconds to realize he was holding still for me.
“Sorry. You’re all set.”
He nodded, grabbed his bag, and went into the bathroom. The water turned on, and I walked to the kitchen to open the fridge. Inside, I found fancy sandwich fixings, including croissants instead of bread. There was some type of green stuff in a jar and carved, seasoned turkey. In the crisper were avocado and sprouts. Shrugging, I slapped it all together then took a huge bite.
Carlos stepped out of the bathroom in time to catch my groan. He stopped to watch me.
“You have to try this,” I said after I swallowed.
I hurried to him and offered up my sandwich. His lips twitched then he took a bite.
“Whoa! Was that a facial expression?”
He chewed then swallowed.
“Almost. That was good. Is there more?”
“Sure. I’ll make you one.”
I walked away wondering why he’d almost smiled. Maybe he wasn’t used to people sharing food with him. After watching werewolves eat, I could understand why.
He disappeared into the bedroom with his bag and came back a minute later to sit at the island and watch me put together his sandwich.
“How is it in here?” he asked.
I knew he meant the emotions.
“Not bad. I don’t really feel too much of anything. A wisp of this or that every now and again. That’s it.” I slid the plate with the sandwich over to him and took another bite of mine. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”
“Charlene and Michelle are trying to find a way to contact that reporter, Penny, to set up a meeting. It won’t be tonight. Tonight we rest.”
Focusing on the sandwich, I considered the night ahead. Staying in for the evening wasn’t new to me. But usually I did it alone, and my idea of relaxing involved hitting the bag. I glanced at Carlos, eyed his multicolored face, and didn’t think he’d be up for that much fun. What exactly would two people do on an evening in? The first thought that came to mind had me blushing and turning away from him.
“Want to watch a movie?” I asked, walking over to the couch. I picked up the remote and surfed through the selection guide. “Oh, look. Werewolf in London is on.” Giving him a quick grin, I turned to that movie.
“I like your sense of humor,” he said, moving to sit beside me.
“Really? I can’t tell. You never let anything show.”
“Because you’re not ready.”
Sitting sideways, I gave him my full attention.
“Why did you say that?”
“I didn’t say it. You did.”
I recalled when I’d said those words—just before he’d been about to kiss me.
“Of course I’m not ready for that.” My face was never going to cool. “We barely know each other.”
“I disagree.”
“You think you know me?”
“I know that when you need a break from people, you become more snarky.”
“Snarky?”
“I read.”
I laughed.
“And,” he continued, “I know that when you start rolling your shoulders, someone’s about to face a beating. When you eat, you focus on one thing at a time until it’s gone. When you drink, you always lick the cup’s edge before setting it down.”
I did what?
“When you sleep, you curl on your side and tuck your hands under your cheek. When you’re upset, you say things you normally wouldn’t. When you fight, you hate hurting the other person...except the Urbat. You worry about the people around you and resent what you do to them. You think you need to be alone for the rest of your life and that scares you. You love stretchy clothes because you can move in them. You need to condition your hair in order to comb through it. You think makeup is a waste of time.”
“Stop. How can you possibly know all that?” He was right, of course, but how could he know?
“Because I pay attention, Isabelle. Because I care more than you can imagine.”
I stared at him for several heartbeats while everything he’d just said sank in.
“So, you do know me. And you think that makes us ready for what? Being engaged? Living happily ever after?”
“I think it makes us ready to see each other for what we really are.”
“And what are we?”
“Meant to be.”
His certainty thrilled and scared me.
“What if I don’t want what you want?”
“And what do you think I want?”
“Biting...running...mating.”
He smiled and shook his head.
“No, Isabelle. I just want you.”
My heart stumbled. Carlos was right, I was afraid of hurting him. My one attempt at a date stuck out in my mind. All it took was the thrill of a first touch, allowing myself to feel it, and I’d nearly killed the boy. Ethan had known the risk. He’d kissed me, but I’d never let myself feel anything. I couldn’t. It would have killed him.
But Carlos was different. I couldn’t pull emotions from him or push them into him. What would happen if I kissed him?
My pulse jumped as I considered it.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” I said softly.
“I know you are. But you won’t.”
My imagination continued to explore the possibilities as my gaze drif
ted over his face, and my neck grew warm.
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his pupils seemed a bit dilated.
“I’ve waited so long for that.”
“What?” I said, afraid I already knew the answer.
“Your desire.”
He stayed in his spot, his gaze devouring me. If he’d made a move toward me, I would have bolted or kicked him in the face. He was smart to wait me out.
“This is a stupid idea,” I said.
“It’s the best idea in the world.”
“What if I knock you out?”
“I’ll be the happiest, unconscious man ever.”
“Gah!” I turned my head away but didn’t get up. Why was I fighting this internal battle? Was I fighting what I felt for him, just for the sake of fighting? Didn’t I want to know something more than that? Didn’t I want to have someone I could spend my life with? I rubbed my face in frustration. I didn’t want someone; I wanted Carlos.
With a slow exhale, I swallowed hard then turned to look at him again. Yep, he was still there, watching me with the same lack of expression. My stomach twisted and flipped at the sight of him.
Wiping my hands on my leggings, I gathered my courage and moved to kneel beside him. I wasn’t imagining the change in his pupils because, as I stared, they grew larger. I inched toward him. My hands shook, and I felt lightheaded. What was I doing? How could I risk this? Him?
Carefully, I set my right hand on his left shoulder. He shuddered at the contact. My heart started to hammer, and I withdrew my hand.
In a quick move, he wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me up and over so I was straddling his lap. Both my hands rested on his shoulders as I stared down at him with wide eyes.
Despite the shaking, his expression, though intense, remained void of any emotion.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, unable to go further without knowing.
“I’m trying to think of what I can say, what I can promise you to get you to finish what you’ve started.”
His desperation made my lips curve and eased some of my tension. I was still in control.
“And what did I start?”
His fingers twitched at my waist.
“Just kiss me already, Isabelle.”
Nervousness at hearing him say it aloud had me wondering if he’d let me escape. As I stared into his deep brown eyes, I realized I didn’t want to run. I wanted to stay. I wanted to try. Slowly, I reached up and set my hands along his jaw. His pulse jumped under my fingertips, and the shaking grew more pronounced. Mindful of his bruises, I lightly ran my fingers over his stubble. He held still, letting me explore the arch of his brow, the slight bump on his nose, and the curve of his bottom lip.
My pulse raced as I traced my finger over his mouth once more. What would it feel like to press my lips to his? I desperately wanted to know. I leaned in, watching him as I closed the distance between us.
An inch from his lips, I paused and tried to control what I felt. I didn’t want to drain him.
Carefully, I brushed my mouth lightly across his. A zing of excitement and need ripped through me, and I quickly pulled away to check him. His eyes immediately popped open. The pupils were extremely dilated, but very much human.
Reassured, I dipped my head down to try again. Setting my lips against his, I explored the warmth and texture of his skin. I nibbled at his fuller bottom lip, and a faint growl rumbled in his chest. His hands, still curled around my waist, gripped me more firmly when I opened my mouth and licked his lip.
He didn’t stop me or take over. He continued to let me explore one little nip and lick at a time. My skin tingled but not in the negative way I’d grown so used to. Finally, I pulled back and gave him a tentative smile.
When he opened his eyes, the pupils were far too large for his face.
“Does this mean you’re ready?” His voice was rough, deep, and hard to understand, and each word he spoke exposed his elongated canines.
I swallowed hard and slowly shook my head. Whatever he was ready for, I definitely was not.
“Too bad,” he said a moment before he had me on my back, his weight pressing me into the couch.
Before I could inhale a decent breath to tell him to get off, he buried his face in the curve of my neck. His tongue traced a wet path up to the little dip below my ear. I shivered and gripped his shoulders. His teeth scraped my skin there, and a rather girly sigh escaped me.
“Carlos, wait,” I said on another breathy exhale.
His tongue blazed a trail back down to my collarbone, played there for a bit, then traced its way up the other side of my neck. By the time he nibbled that side, I was panting. He left my neck and pulled back enough to look down at me.
“Bite me, Isabelle.”
Like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head, his words brought clarity to what we were doing.
“It’s time for you to get off me,” I said, giving his shoulders a slight push.
He dropped his forehead to my chest.
Why did that cause a burst of heat inside me?
“Seriously. Up now.” I pushed his shoulders again, with very little effect. He wasn’t ready to stop. I needed to make him.
“I’m going to start pulling and won’t stop until I have enough strength to push you off me. Is that what you want?”
He lifted himself off me, stood, then stiffly left the apartment.
I watched the rest of the movie alone.
* * * *
After taking a very long, hot shower, I sat on the couch and brushed my hair while I contemplated if I should go and find Carlos. I didn’t think he’d been mad when he’d left. Annoyed, maybe. Disappointed, most likely. But not mad. What was the point of tracking him down, then? I wasn’t ready to pick up where we’d left off.
Yet, a small part of me continued to wonder if I was wrong, and that he really was upset with me.
I tossed the brush aside and drew my legs to my chest. I recalled our kiss and blushed at the memory. I had allowed myself to feel every wonderful emotion and nothing bad had happened. If Ethan were here...I sighed. He would be happy for me, happy that I wouldn’t need to spend my life alone. Well, if Carlos ever came back.
I was just about to get up and wander around the apartment when a key slid into the lock. I stood quickly and watched as Carlos opened the door. His gaze immediately found mine.
The worry I’d harbored surged forward as he eased the door closed behind him and stood still, watching me.
“Are you mad?” I asked.
“Why would I be mad?”
I shrugged, unwilling to speak my doubts if there wasn’t a reason.
He inhaled deeply.
“You’re worried.” Slowly, he approached me. “I’ve smelled your anger, your amusement, your annoyance, and even your fear, though it was brief. I’ve never smelled worry on you like this. What’s causing it?”
I’d worked in an office full of women. Not only had they oozed their emotions, they’d also talked about their moods endlessly. It was as if feeling all of that emotion wasn’t enough. They had to talk about it, and I had to listen, too. I wasn’t about to turn into a female like that.
“Just thinking about tomorrow.”
He tilted his head and studied me.
“Do you lie because you don’t trust me with the truth or because…” He inhaled deeply again. “You’re uncomfortable.”
“You keep sniffing my emotions like that, and I’m going to punch you in the nose.”
“Fair enough. Are you ready for bed?”
I nodded hesitantly.
“Are you going to make me sleep on this very short couch?”
I glanced at the couch. It wasn’t that short. Well, for me, anyway. Carlos would need to curl up a little. But if I was honest, I didn’t want him on the couch, so I shook my head.
He held out his hand, and I took it. Turning off the lights as we went, he led me to the bedroom. There, he let go
of my hand and moved to fold down the covers. When he looked over his shoulder at me, I still hovered in the doorway, watching him. I wondered what he was up to. Did he think sharing the bed meant I was ready to pick up where we’d left off?
He motioned for me to get in bed.
Setting aside my concern, I crossed the room. Once I was settled, he covered me like a child, placed a kiss on my forehead, then turned off the light. In the dark, I listened to him walk around the bed. He lay on top of the covers, yet against me, and draped an arm over my waist.
“Goodnight, Isabelle.”
“Goodnight, Carlos.”
I listened to his breathing for a while, still thinking about the reason he’d left.
“I don’t share feelings; I steal them.”
Carlos remained quiet behind me.
“When I was thirteen, a boy asked me on a date. I liked him and knew from what he was feeling that he liked me too, so I said yes. I nearly killed him when I held his hand.
“Ethan was there. He pulled the boy away from me. Probably saved his life. But Ethan and I both knew after that...I couldn’t be with anyone. So, I never tried. I had Ethan, and he was enough. He was my first kiss. He tricked me, took me by surprise. I was terrified and wouldn’t let myself feel anything. I think he knew, and it made him feel even more sorry for me. I’ve always loved Ethan, but not the way he wanted because I couldn’t.”
I wiggled under the covers, turning myself so I faced Carlos.
“The things you’re asking for, I’ve never considered. I don’t understand relationships. They scare the hell out of me. And the idea of a relationship with you is even scarier. I have no clue what you’re thinking because I don’t know what you’re feeling. We kissed. Then when I asked you to stop, you walked out the door without a word.”
He reached up and gently ran a finger along my jaw.
“I left because if I had stayed, I would have kept kissing you. The idea of a relationship is new to both of us. I’ll work on sharing what I’m feeling with words. And you can work on just letting yourself feel.”
I sighed, letting my tension drift away, then nodded and closed my eyes.
“Isabelle?”
“Yeah?” I said, opening my eyes again.