Sabrina sighed. “I do hate Bryce. That’s why we hadI hate you sex. It was so damn good, so then we hadI hate you more sex.” She grimaced. “Don’t look at me like that, Liza. I know it’s toxic and we need to stop, but fuck. He’s so good in bed and, God, it’s just so intense and passionate.”
I knew about passion. I knew about desire. I knew about it all. “What about the beta guy? Are you still technically dating him?” I couldn’t wait to hear where this was all going. Sabrina had an exciting life. No doubt about it.
“Yes. Technically. He’s really great and could possibly be a fantastic boyfriend. But...”
“But what? Does he have a tiny little penis?” I laughed, then clamped my lips together when I saw the serious expression on Sabrina’s face.
“He just doesn’t light a fire in my belly,” she admitted and wouldn’t meet my gaze.
I shook my head, trying to grasp the complexities of dating in this day and age, especially the way Sabrina was doing it. She made it so complicated. While I understood the allure of passion, I couldn’t help but worry about the toll it would take on her when it faded or fell apart.
“I know how important passion is, Sabrina, but if he isn’t making you happy, don’t settle, and don’t sacrifice your happiness,” I advised, my tone filled with genuine concern. “You deserve someone who ignites that fire without all the toxicity that comes with Bryce, too.”
What was a relationship without passion? As I pondered that very question, images of Ty in the throes of making love to me flooded my mind and overwhelmed me. The man had a gift. And together, we had the all-consuming flame of passion—the one Sabrina had raved about with Bryce and lacked with her beta. Yet, that passion, that chemistry between us, seemed to be fading out. I missed the way we used to be.
As if reading my mind, Sabrina asked, “How are things with you and Ty?”
“It’s... complicated.”
Our food arrived, and as we ate, I found myself opening up about my own struggles with Ty and the pressure that had seeped into our relationship. The constant awareness of being watched, the overwhelming presence of the bodyguard… While it was for my safety, and I was aware he was giving me space the only way he knew how, it still felt like an invasion of my privacy, and it was eating away at my sanity.
I didn’t go into the reason why we were under so much pressure—the looming threat that was Castro—because I didn’t want to worry Sabrina. Once she got worried, there wasn’t anything I could do to get her to stop.
Sabrina’s mischievous smile widened as her eyes flickered to the bodyguard. “He does seem a little overbearing, doesn’t he?” she commented, a playful glimmer in her eyes.
A chuckle escaped my lips. Sabrina’s lightheartedness was a balm to my soul. She didn’t offer a lot of advice, but some days nothing could beat witty commentary.
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. “I half-expect him to start analyzing my breathing patterns.”
“In all seriousness, though, I’m on your side.” Sabrina pointed a finger at me. “You shouldn’t be forced into a mating when neither you nor Ty seem sure about it. Relationships are always so complicated.”
I nodded. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
We enjoyed the rest of our lunch, chatting about TV shows, movies, and celebrity gossip, and before I knew it, several hours had gone by, and we parted ways. I returned home and was almost grateful to not see Ty’s truck in my driveway. I silently scolded myself for thinking that way, but with things so weird between us, I genuinely didn’t want to be around the bad energy he was putting off. Was that so wrong?
I slipped into a pair of sweats and settled in on the couch to continue binge-watching the latest season of my favorite show. My dad said it was reality trash, but I couldn’t get enough of it.
As the evening went on, I realized Ty wasn’t coming. I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.
What’s going on?
A few minutes later, my phone beeped.
I’m staying at the estate tonight.
My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. My heart pounded so hard, my chest ached, and my breathing became labored as I struggled to control my temper.
I’d been happy he wasn’t at the house all of a few hours ago, but him not coming home felt like he was punishing me somehow. Like he was purposely distancing himself from me, and I knew damn well I hadn’t done anything wrong.
An inexplicable rage consumed me, surpassing any anger I had ever experienced before. It even eclipsed the emotions I had experienced when I’d found out the truth about Castro’s role in my parents’ death.
I tried to breathe and slow my rising heart rate, but it was no use. It was as if a fuse had been lit and there was no way to keep the bomb from exploding. I was scared.
My wolf’s snarl escaped my lips as if I had no control over my own body.
My trembling hands transformed into sharp claws, a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil that ravaged my being.
But as the claws emerged, fear washed over me, piercing through the anger like a chilling gust of wind. I had lost control, and the realization terrified me. With a desperate attempt to regain composure, I forced myself to take deep breaths, grounding myself in the present moment.
