Page 90 of Red

“What about?”

“It’s strange, but I don’t have anyone else to ask.” Kiya is older than all of us, including Stark. She might know.

“Let’s hear it.” She smiles at me in the moonlight.

I turn away from her in case she thinks I’m losing it. I don’t need to see her reaction. “Do you ever get a tingle feeling when you touch someone or don’t touch them? Like a butterfly sensation across your body or in your hands?”

“I do.”

“Really? With anyone or . . . ?” I look at her now, a smile on her face.

“With Mitus. It doesn’t happen when we don’t touch, though. Only when we’re being intimate, kissing or more. I’ve heard some mates’ connections grow stronger, that they can feel it holding hands or without touch at all. I hope ours grows that strong one day.” Hope fills her words.

That can’t be right.

“You’ve never experienced it any other time?”

“We were already mated when I felt it, of course. Why are you asking?”

“Just something I read.” I can’t tell her that I feel it with her Alpha now. I’d sound like the crazy holed-up girl they all were expecting when I got dragged into all of this.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I do mean it.

“See? If you talk, then you won’t be so alone,” she teases.

“Maybe,” I say, tossing the round stone in my hand over to the water.

Jocko and Stark come out of the forest a few hours later. Stark’s dark coat glows in the light, and I can’t help but stare at it. I want to curl into it forever. I mean, I want nothing to do with it or the deep glowing blue eyes that my heart skips over. I might love them more when in contrast with his black fur—more than I love my own red hair.

I’m so screwed for life.

They turn back into their human forms and shove each other while walking over.

“I knew we were gone for a bit . . .” Jocko walks in the puddles of the ice. “All the ice is melted.”

I blow out a breath.

“The water is warm,” Kiya says, her hand below the surface of the lake.

Stark doesn’t comment and leaves us.

This is enough. I stand up and walk over to Stark at the side of the truck.

“What? We can’t be friends now?” I ask him.

Jocko and Kiya turn away, silent.

“No, Aloka, we are not friends.”

Ouch.

He opens the truck door, steps in, and slams it.

Heat flares in my chest and I want to scream. An exasperated breath leaves my chest. I never should’ve let him see anything.

I shrink into myself and go sit by the water, tired of feeling too much. If they weren’t here, I’d melt or break that glass and demand he talk.