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Ethan shakes his head. My heart drops. “A date? What time is it?” It’s annoying that Elliot doesn’t keep a clock in his room.
“Nah. Kay’s back and he went to talk to her. You know, about losing our deal with the Wolves.”
“Don’t,” I groan. “My anxiety has been through the roof since yesterday. I can’t imagine Kay’s reaction.”
“Don’t worry,” he says softly. “She listens to him.”
I finally get up, throwing my arms around Ethan’s neck and going on my toes to drop a kiss on his jaw. I trace my lips upward until I’m stretching to my limit and kissing just below his ear, and when I pull away, something catches my eyes.
Blood. In the shell of his ear.
“Your ear is bleeding, babe,” I say with concern. “Are you okay?”
He steps away, almost making me fall, and grabs the towel he’s just thrown on the bed. Wiping the inside of his ear, he mutters that he’s okay.
My eyes narrow into slits as I observe him. “Ethan.”
He throws the towel away again, cocking an eyebrow at me. “Yeah?”
“This isn’t your blood.” I know that with certainty, but I still add, “Is it?”
His silence keeps me going. “You killed.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“You killed someone and showered before I woke up so I wouldn’t notice. Except you missed a fucking spot.”
“Jade,” he growls. “Drop it.”
“Who? Does Elliot know?”
“Yes, Elliot knows. He cleaned up during the night.”
“Ethan! Who was it?”
A sudden look of guilt crosses his eyes, but he shrugs. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Why? He’s dead. It was painful too. People need to think twice before they flirt with you.”
My ass falls back on the bed, my mouth dropping. “Oh my God. It’s the guy from the thrift store, isn’t it?”
“I said I was a jealous man. Why are you so surprised?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Because there’s jealous and…” I point at him with both hands. “That!”
He shrugs, crossing his arms again. “I’m not saying sorry.”
“Yeah, well, it’s too fucking late for sorrys anyway!” I grab my roots, trying to ground myself. Taking a deep breath, I do my best totalkthrough how I feel rather than scream through it. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He flirted with you.” His deadpan voice is going to be the end of me. He’s talking about this the same way one would let you know they’re off to the grocery store. “He tried to touch you.”
I’m speechless. I have zero words to answer him right now.
“Are we done with this conversation?” he asks calmly. His hand comes to caress my cheek before it cups my jaw, and he forces me to look up at him. “Can we be done? I have an exciting day ahead of us.”
“You’re a complete sociopath.”
