Page 248 of Sorrow & Strangers

I just want to get to my room to process all that happened with the stranger. Our conversation, if you can call it that, was overwhelming, and I need to think about how it could have gone differently. I need some space to settle my nerves and emotions, but when I get to the top of the stairs, Rafe is leaving his room.

“Ugh. You smell awful,” he says, his nose scrunching.

I glare at him, leaning into my frustration with him to stop the tears from falling. “So I’ve heard,” I throw back at him before slamming my door behind me.

The force of it shakes the walls of the room, initiating a tremor within me that causes my head to spin. I press my back against the door and take a couple of deep breaths before making my way to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and pull off my dress and shirt. Facing the mirror, my eyes are drawn to the purple bruises that are blossoming on my arm and around my throat. They’re dark and angry, with a ghost of something otherworldly lingering within them. They prickle painfully as I look at them, as if focusing my attention on them is making them hurt more. My stomach curdles with the dark danger the stranger holds.

He grabbed me. He hurt me. Why don’t I hate him? Is it because I know that I would have acted similarly? But I’m not like him. I lift my chin, looking at his fingerprints on my throat. He was occluding my airway, and not for the first time, but this time, the danger of him rippled through the act.

Would I have hurt him? If another had kissed him? Even the thought makes my blood surge, sending it roaring through my ears. No, I’m not like that. I’m not like him.

Little liar. His voice echoes through my head.

A roar shatters the night outside, and I know one of the shifters has been successful in catching their prey. I pray to the gods it’s not Leo.

Fuck.

I finish getting undressed, the stranger’s words on repeat in my mind.

Why bother giving me your word? Why bother to ask me to wait?

I step into the shower, letting the hot water beat against my skin, but it doesn’t wash away the malice in his voice. The worst part was the hurt at its source, something I would never have picked up on if I didn’t know him. When did that happen? When did I start to know my formless stalker? When did I start relating to him?

The emotions well up behind my eyes and splinter through me. My arm twinges with pain, and I grimace as I flex it. It’s not broken, but it could have been. It almost was, but he stopped himself . . . A sob catches in my throat, tears spilling down my face because I understand.

Alice knocks on the bathroom door. “Summer! Dinner is going to get cold. Again!”

It is such an odd thing that Alice, a vampire who doesn’t eat actual food, has taken to doing all the cooking. Somewhere in the process of preparing meals for me to get me to eat, and working to figure out what to feed Rafe, she discovered that cooking relaxes her.

I take a few more minutes under the water to compose myself before leaving the bathroom. Pulling on shorts and a turtleneck sweater to cover the bruises, I take a deep breath and head downstairs. When I walk into the kitchen, I am surprised to see both Rafe and Alice sitting at the table. I stop in the doorway and look between them.

“Rafe wanted to wait to eat with you,” Alice says with a bright smile.

I nod and sit in the chair next to him, though I make a point not to look at him.

“Summer, I . . .” Rafe stops and leans toward me. “What’s that on your jaw? Is that dirt?”

Ignoring him, I shift my turtleneck up a little and pick up my fork. I can barely face the food, but it’s better than looking at him. I should have known Rafe wouldn’t let it go, but I still startle when he turns in his seat and slides my chair toward him. Brushing my hand away, he pulls my collar down to look at the bruises. He lines his fingers up with the noticeable marks there.

“Sum . . .” he gasps.

I bat his hand away, but Alice has already rounded the table and is now inspecting the bruises for herself.

“Bruises?” Alice stares at me until I meet her brown eyes. “You good?”

“I will be,” I say, covering my neck again and sliding my chair back to my spot. I can handle this. The last thing I need is either of them getting involved in this.

“Someone did this to you,” Rafe growls, his demonic energy filling the room. It’s not a question, but an accusation toward no one in particular.

“It was . . .” I consider lying, but what would I even say? “Fuck, no. It’s fine.”

“Summer,” Rafe says, and I can feel his glare.

“Leave it, Rafe,” I growl back, finally looking at him and matching his ferocity. “It was my fault,” I say, and I can tell I’ve caught him off guard.

“How?”

“It just was. Drop it. Please.” I add the please to shave a little of the sharpness off my voice.