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I didn’t notice when Emily sat on the couch next to me, and I jumped at her touch. Her hand seemed so fragile as it rested on my forearm.
“You’re shaking,” she said softly.
The sarcastic answer died on my lips at the genuine concern in her eyes.
“I haven’t been back there since I left. I never thought I’d go back either. The things they do… I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” Emily squeezed and some of the anxiety disappeared. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Emily.”
“Wow, you must be shaken up. It’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
I chuckled. “We need to get you to Morgan. She’s not a fan of tardiness.”
“Already sorted, I told her to come here.” She sighed deeply. “Figured you’d be more comfortable babysitting me at home than having to follow after me.”
Unexpected excitement burst through me at hearing her call it ‘home,’ I forced myself to ignore it. We are not unpacking that right now. There was far too much happening to examine my feelings. I didn’t want to linger on the fact that having her in my apartment felt comfortable, that I enjoyed our banter, that hearing her sing off-key in the bedroom made me laugh, or whenever she looked at me I wanted to kiss her. Besides, it was the bond that made me feel these things.
I looked at her hand still resting on my forearm and pictured those nails digging into my back as we…
I looked up and met her gaze. The concern in her eyes shifted to heat, as if she could read my mind. She leaned closer and her lips parted—those soft, pink lips that I had felt against my own in my dreams. This was a line, and if we crossed it, things would change and get more complicated. I would drag her into a life of hiding, of always looking over your shoulder. At those thoughts, ice washed through my veins, and I pulled back. This was just the bond, nothing more.
I cleared my throat and stood, making my way to the kitchen and the rest of the bourbon that waited there.
“You didn’t tell your boyfriend about us training,” I said blandly.
The shock on Emily’s face changed to annoyance. “I forgot. I don’t need permission to do things either. And I take it our first fighting lesson is canceled anyway?”
“Yep. I have other things on my mind, like walking into a deathtrap. If you don’t mind…” I pointed to her bedroom. Any attraction she had previously, drained from her face. Good, less complicated if I’m the bad guy.
She stood up, her cheeks were red as she shoved passed me. “I’ll wait for Morgan in the bedroom.”
The door slammed shut a second later, and the silence wrapped around me once again. Emily was better off with Cassian—the good guy who could give her everything. I didn’t want to be in a relationship, let alone mated. Whatever these feelings were, they weren’t real. The quicker Emily accepted it, the better for both of us. I would leave in the morning, and that would be the end of it. When this was over, I would move far away and forget about Emily and the bond. She and Cassian could live happily ever after, and Morgan could be free of keeping me hidden and protected.
I was happy on my own. I wanted to be alone. “So why do you feel like shit, Langston?” I grumbled to myself and downed the second glass of bourbon.
A minute later, Morgan pushed through the front door soaking wet. “It’s a shitshow out there!”
I hadn’t even noticed the storm breaking outside. I grabbed a towel and tossed it to her. “Leave your shoes at the door. Emily is in the room.” I poured another glass, plopped onto the couch, and pulled my headphones on.
She stood for a few moments. She didn’t deserve my bad mood but I couldn’t backtrack now. Eventually Morgan dropped the towel and walked over to the door without looking in my direction. I had no doubt that she’d make today’s lesson hard for Emily.
