52
JULIET
Once again,I am baking to apologize to Roderick Jameson.
When I visited his office, I could see the hurt in his eyes. The way he looked at me, I’d almost given up. But that kiss we shared, the one I practically demanded of him, gave me enough hope to think I could find some way out of this twisted mess.
I still don’t think I was wrong to push away the idea of mating, but when I replay how I reacted, I can’t help the painful gnaw of guilt in my gut. All that animosity that fueled my explosive response shouldn’t have been directed at Roderick.
He was on the receiving end of years of anger toward another man.
And after Tanya’s description of his past, I’m surprised Roderick ever gave any part of himself to me. The alpha made himself vulnerable to an outsider—again—and I crushed that offering under my heel and kicked him out of my house.
All Roderick wanted to do was forge a stronger connection between us down the line.
I see now he wasn’t looking for a way to control me.
So, I messed up. And now I need to find a way to fix it.
Find the strength to share the truth of my past with him while also making sure I don’t start a werewolf war.
“Please be halfway decent.” My begging is heartfelt as I kneel in front of my oven, watching the choux pastries begin to rise.
Knowing Roderick, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture more than anything. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to grind out all memory of Monica’s éclairs with my own.
A half hour later, I pull out some golden-brown confections from the oven, thoroughly proud of myself. That’s two components down, with the filling chilling in the fridge. Now I just need the topping. I pull two bars of chocolate from the fridge and shove them in the pocket of my apron to start bringing them to room temperature while I put a saucepan on the stove to warm the heavy cream.
A cool breeze traces down my back, garnering a shiver. I wonder distractedly if I accidentally turned the AC on and it just kicked on because of the heat radiating from the oven.
“Hello, Abby,” a familiar voice says.
My body understands before my mind does, every muscle locking in defense, adrenaline skyrocketing in preparation to run.
No. The word trips through my head, ricocheting around my skull with sharp edges that slice at my nerves.
No, no, no, no?—
But then I turn around and find my silent pleading was for nothing.
A face I hoped to never see again grins at me from the back door. A door that hangs wide open. There’s not one beep from the alarm.
Why? Because I left it off in anticipation of Roderick arriving soon.
Gods, if only my werewolf were here right now.
But instead, I’m alone as I face a monster.
“Cory.” His name chokes me, pressing on my gag reflex, urging me to vomit.
“What’s with that face?” He saunters into the kitchen. “You used to love it when I showed up at your back door, naked.”
And naked he is. The guy stands barefoot in the middle of my kitchen, not a stitch on him.
“This is a nightmare.” I say the words aloud, hoping that when I acknowledge it, I’ll wake up from the dream.
But the only thing that changes is the expression on Cory’s face.
Gone is his overconfident grin. Left in its place is a snarl.
