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While Adam gathered up the rest of his clothes, Tabby stayed silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she watched him back, nibbling on her bottom lip, tucking a strand of her blond hair behind her ear so that it wasn’t blocking her vision.
Finally, she asked, “Is it because of her?”
“Who, Tab?”
“Evangeline. Do you still have feelings for her or something?”
Was she serious?
His laugh was hollow. Unfeeling. Up until a few minutes ago, the only one he had feelings for was the woman lying next to him.
But Adam had a deal-breaker. No matter how much he was drawn to her, how his body reacted to her, how he knew he could live on her blood and her smiles alone… that meant jackshit if he couldn’t trust her.
He wasn’t a fucking moron. He knew she had her secrets. How many times had he listened to her, accepting that she
was lying straight to his face? He figured it had something to do with being a slayer. Hell, he’d been a cop. He knew what it was like to be in a brotherhood like that.
He just thought… maybe he could earn a little of that trust and loyalty, too.
Tabby might have let him into her bed. Too bad she didn’t let him into the rest of her life.
“No,” he finally said. “It had nothing to do with her. Call me a fucking fool, but I thought we had something. You and me…. I thought I could trust you. I need a partner who’s gonna watch my back, not stab a knife in it.”
“Adam—”
He couldn’t listen to her. Couldn’t look at her. He was only fucking human—or something close to, at least. Being turned didn’t change who he was. And if her expression matched the contrition in the way she murmured his name, he’d give in. He’d tell her it was alright, even when it wasn’t.
You can never fucking trust a slayer.
Maybe Wolfe had a point.
Maybe he’d been thinking with the wrong head all along.
“I’ve gotta go.”
His jeans were still on the floor. Snatching them up, he pulled them on before tugging his t-shirt over his head.
Tabby didn’t move from her spot on the bed, watching him as he hurriedly redressed. Only when he finally stabbed his feet into his boots did she say, “Will you come back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will I see you again?”
He thought about it.
Really thought about it.
He liked Tabby. From the moment he first saw her and his body reacted to her nearness, he knew there was something between them. When she coyly invited him up to her apartment before boldly initiating sex with him, he wanted to believe she felt the same.
But he couldn’t trust her.
“No, Tabitha. I don’t think so.”
16
She let him go.
It hurt to watch him leave. And his last parting shot? That was like a stake to the chest, it stabbed at her so deeply. She didn’t even know what part was worse: the cold way he called her Tabitha or the determination in his voice when he told her he wouldn’t see her again.
