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Shit.
“Hold still,” he commands and reaches into his back pocket for his blade. When she sees it, she yelps and tries to scramble to the driver’s side door.
“This is to untie you,” he explains as calmly as he can. “Unless you want to stay in those plastic cuffs.”
Her eyes narrow and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lip. She’s full of malice and fury, and he finds it more endearing than he should.
Especially since it’s aimed athim.
“Fine. Or, you can pout and we can keep them on.” He steps away, and she leans forward.
“Wait!” she says. “Um…please get these things off me,” she grumbles, as if asking pains her.
He thinks about teasing her and telling her toask nicely.
But they need to get to shelter soon. The city may not be as evacuated as he had hoped.
“Turn around with your back to me.”
He can tell she doesn’t want to do that, and he doesn’t blame her. But she says nothing as she turns around and offers him her hands. Within seconds, the plastic snaps in half and she’s cradling her wrists, sighing in relief.
“We have to hurry. Your apartment is on the third floor, right? The unit number starts with a three.”
She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow.
“Technically, I just saved your life, so stop being difficult.”
The look she gives him after his little quip is worth it. Her delicate features pull into an incredulous glare, and he laughs and grasps her shoulder to haul her to her feet. She stumbles a bit, much like she did when running from him, and he steadies her before taking her arm.
It shouldn’t feel so good to touch her, and he ignores the chills that run down his spine at the simple contact.
He leads her through the parking garage door and into the small elevator. He releases her as soon as the doors close, and she places as much distance from him as she can, pressing herself against the wall.
She’s in shock. Her arms wrap around her sides and she holds herself tightly, trembling slightly as she breathes in and out with agonizing slowness. Her gaze is unfocused, and by the time the elevator doors open again, her shaking has grown worse.
You’re not in danger,he wants to tell her.
But she would never believe him. To her, heisthe danger, and it will take more than two hours with him to change that belief.
He takes her arm again, and she stiffens at his touch through the gloves.
“I can’t move,” she says in a small voice. “Please, I can’t go with you.”
And fuck, his patience must be at an all-time high, because he actually stops to humor her.
“You have to move,” he says gently. He tugs at her arm again, but her legs lock in place, and she stumbles. “We have to go, Hazel.”
He likes the way her name sounds on his tongue entirely too much.
“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”
Her scent sours with anxiety and the aroma makes his chest ache.
The elevator doors start to shut and he sticks a foot out to make them open again.
“You can have a breakdown once we get to your place. But you’re getting off this elevator, either by walking, or by me carrying you. Which one do you want?”
He knows which onehewants, because his internal Alpha instincts insist tohold and protect Hazel.
