Page 36 of Red

Moon shifting, my breaths work to calm the magic.

A door slams in the house, and I sink lower to the ground. Heavy feet come down the hallway. The door handle jiggles, then it cracks, before Stark storms through, huffing.

This is going so well. Thanks, Pratt.

“Red?”

“Did you have to break the door?”

He rakes a hand through his wind-swept hair, exhales hard through his nose. “I need an answer this time.”

“That would highly depend on the question.” I smirk, but it falls short. Here we go.

He crosses the room, and my breath stalls. I wait for something, anything—a hit, stabbing, to be dragged out for everyone to watch me die. But Stark drops his gaze to the rug and lowers himself next to me, matching my head position against the bed, but a foot above mine.

He tilts his head back and sighs. “I’m not kidding, Aloka.”

The full-name drop makes me take him in. His long legs are an inch away from mine and it feels like the tingles are itching to start. I shift them away a bit more.

“Shouldn’t you be out running with your mate? Full moons, I’ve heard, can be quite romantic.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. So, my question.” He pulls my hand into his and lowers his head to look at my face. But I don’t turn mine. I leave it so I can stare at the ceiling. There’s a broken picture frame on the other side of the dresser and I’m counting the minutes until he says something about it.

“I’m waiting.”

My hand stays in his grip, along with the strange feeling I get when he touches me, running circles with his thumb over the back. This is as about as odd as me outside crying in front of him.

“You melted the snow on our run, your skin burned mine, you’ve heated the temperature of this house alone by standing in a room.”

“With all these books, I figured you’d know the definition of a question.” I smile. If I’m stuck in this prison, at least I can bug the annoyingly hot prison guard.

“How do you do it? I’ve never—I get warm on nights like tonight because of the full moon. You would’ve learned in school about what a werewolf feels like. Our wolf selves are always at the brink of wanting to be our true form, and we get a warm sensation from it.”

“I read. I know how it works,” I snipe. I hate when people think I don’t know things about werewolves. Even if I’m not like them, I grew up here too. The same stories, legends, myths, and teachings have been shoved into my mind throughout my life.

“I’m not finished. We are not so hot that we heat the air or melt snow. It’s not painful.”

I turn to look up at him. Why would he say that?

“You’re not one of us.”

No, I’m not.

“Can you at least tell me if I’m making stuff up in my mind or not?”

“I can’t tell you anything.” I pull my hand from his, then wrap my arms around my shins and tuck my head on top.

Stark stills himself with a hand on the floor. The dark room is lit by the small slit in the curtains I climbed through and a thin strip of light from the door no longer having a latch to close it. That straight face angles down to stare back at me.

“I’m sorry, but I need you to do one thing.” I sigh and watch his features for any sign of a change.

“How does that work if you won’t tell me anything?”

I keep going. “I need you to not think about it, not when you’re around anyone else in the pack.”

He closes his eyes and stretches his long legs out straight.

“I need you to promise me. I know I haven’t given you any reason to do so, but please. You’ve already taken so much.”