Page 88 of Sorrow & Strangers

I stare at him, my anger rising to match his. “Don’t you talk to me like that, Rafael,” I say it softly and calmly, but there is a threat laced through my tone.

His eyes are completely black now. “You risked your life for something stupid. I am allowed to yell at you about this,” he says, his voice still loud but not as loud.

“Something stupid?” I ask, glaring at him. “I risked my life to get you something you desperately need.”

Rafe snaps his fangs. “I could have taken care of it.”

“You can barely do a push-up,” I scoff. “You need brimstone now.”

He snarls again, and I snarl back. I know that was a low blow, but he’s being such a moron at the moment that I don’t care.

“Do not make decisions for me,” he commands, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Do not admonish me for loving you and getting you what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need.” Anger radiates from him.

“Back off.”

“If I’d gone to Hell without asking? To get something you need?” he hurls at me.

“It’s completely different.”

“How?” he demands. “Because it’s you?”

I flinch. There is something within his words that slices into a barely scabbed-over wound. A deeper meaning. He’s not said what he wanted to, but has made me bleed anyway.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, needing to hear the words.

He meets my gaze again, his eyebrows furrowed tightly in a deep frown. “You know what it means.”

“Say it.”

Rafe hesitates for a moment before he lifts his chin a little. “I’m not Connor.”

My body feels the words coming, striking me before they’ve even been spoken. My defenses scream for me to tell him to stop, but the part of me that knows he’s right is desperate for the pain of them.

“I’m not going to just let you do things for me without permission. I won’t let you walk over me.”

Ouch . . .

Rafe watches me for a long, torturous moment before he turns and goes into his bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Forty-Four

Summer

Iwalk through to my room, intending to take a shower. I want to wash the scent of brimstone off my skin, to wash away Rafe’s words, but adrenaline buzzes through me, energy surging and ebbing. Rafe’s anger and the accusation he hurled at me slick my skin like acid. The worst part is that I deserve it. I deserve every word. Changing into shorts and a sports bra, I hurry down the stairs.

“Alice, I’m going out for a run,” I call as I head out the door.

I hear her sputter questions, asking where I am going, but I don’t stop. The need to run is nearly overwhelming. I want to lean into the pain and let it fuel me because I am tired of allowing it to consume me. There’s a slight hum from the halo, but I ignore it too, focusing on what Rafe said and tuning out the comfort Connor is trying to give. I deserve Rafe’s words and more.

The air burns my lungs, and I push harder, hating how my body is once again becoming accustomed to the exercise because it hurts less and takes longer for the endorphins to kick in.

My feet hammer against the path in a hypnotic rhythm, and I concentrate on the music of it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.