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I can’t imagine anything more demoralizing than my own wolf pitying me.
I force my eyes open and make myself look at Paxton. His dark eyes haven’t moved at all, still fixed on my face like there’s nowhere else he would rather look. It’s too intimidating. He’s so intense all the time that I don’t know how to deal with him. My hand is still touching his hip. I know it isn’t the kind of touch my wolf means, but I can’t seem to summon the courage to push the envelope.
And then… magic. Except it’s not magic at all—it’s nature. The lights go out, shrouding us in darkness.
Somehow, in the dark where I don’t have to look into his heavy gaze, Paxton seems less intimidating. It feels more like a level playing field, and that’s why I finally work up the courage to listen to my wolf.
Touch him.
I put my right hand on his chest, my touch light against the warmth of his skin. The smattering of chest hair he has brushes under my fingers. The hard planes of his body tense as I run my hand down over his abs, stopping only at the waistband of the front of his pants. I can hear him suck in a harsh breath and hold it.
“What are you doing?” His voice is low with warning. He holds himself still, but I can tell the tension in him is bound to snap any second.
I run one finger along the inside of his waistband. “There’s no power.”
“I noticed.”
“We can’t do anything with the books without light.”
“Right.” He grabs my wrist and squeezes to keep me from delving past his waistband in exploration. “I didn’t ask what we’renotdoing. I asked you what you’re doing, Tasha.”
It’s a really good question. One that I don’t have the answer for. I’m just doing what everyone seems to want—listening to my instincts. Now I have to psychoanalyze myself too? I swallow back a rush of resentment. I don’t understand what anyone wants from me. I’m being pulled in a dozen different directions, and no one is clear about what they really want from me.
Things with Jimmy were always so simple. I never questioned my place with him or our pack.
“Just forget it,” I mumble.
His body blocks me on the table, but I’m desperate to get away. I’m not proud of my next move, but I do it anyway. I pull my wrist carefully out of his grip. He looks down at me warily as I wrap my hand over his shoulder and use my grip to help me up. The whole thing makes it seem like I’m trying to grind on him when really I just need him to move…
He takes two steps back, making room for me, and it’s just enough space for me to get my feet down.
The second my feet find the floor, I release him, pushing at his chest as he shakes his head like he’s struggling to keep up with what’s going on. That makes two of us. I make it into the hall before he follows me.
What are you doing?Even my wolf sounds disappointed in me. I feel helpless. More than anything, I want my brother. Tevin would sit me down and tell me exactly what I should be doing. The thing that used to drive me nuts as a teenager is now a trait of his I so desperately need. I just want someone to point me in the right direction.
“Wait a damn second.” Paxton reaches for me, but I shake him off.
I hesitate, unsure which direction to go. There’s still a heavy storm raging outside, and the living room and kitchen are both lined with windows. If one tree has already fallen, there’s a chance more will follow. The bedroom only has windows on one side, but I’m not sure I’m ready to risk Paxton following me in there. And he’s currently blocking the path to the bathroom, which only has one window and no trees close enough to worry that any might come crashing through the window or ceiling.
Paxton wraps an arm around my waist before I can make up my mind. “For someone who says they don’t want to be manhandled, you don’t like to leave me a lot of choice.” He lifts me and turns back toward the library.
I don’t so much as squeak in protest. The truth is, there’s a part of me—the exhausted part of me—that’s relieved he’s taken the decision out of my hands. Plus, it really is the safest room in the house until the storm passes.
Back in the little library, my eyes have to readjust to the pitch black room.
Paxton puts me down on my feet, his hands on my hips to steady me. I can barely see more than the outline of him, but I don’t dare touch him again. My face heats thinking of how he questioned me touching him just moments before.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters.
I bristle. “Then leave. I didn’t ask you to come here.”
“No, you didn’t.” His grip on my hips tightens, and he leans his head toward me so that only a few precious inches separate us. “You want to get fucked. Is that it, Tasha? I’m not good enough to be your mate, but you’ll tease me. Maybe consider taking me to bed. Is that what you want?”
There’s suddenly a lot more tension in the room than there was five minutes ago. The air feels charged with it. I think another round of thunder strikes, but it barely registers.
I should deny it. I should tell him that’s not it at all. I should say something. Anything.
“Fuck.” He pushes me away from him with a gentleness that doesn’t match the harsh tone of his voice. My back hits the hall. I feel like my heart is about to pound its way out of my chest. I don’t even feel like I can catch my breath, as if his anger’s knocked the wind out of me. I’m positive this is it between us, but Paxton isn’t so easy to read.
