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“A wolf.” I snap.
“Protective already, are we?”
I growl. “He’s special.”
Taylor throws his head back and laughs. I watch him with my mouth parted. A sharp pang hits my chest, and I realise with a start, it’s longing. Gods, he’s stunning. He calms down and flicks a hot glance my way.
“I know Bar is special. But he’s still the perfect omega for our pack, which means he’s always going to be more wolf than lamb. He might be wounded, but a wounded wolf is more dangerous. He wants you. I don't think anything is going to stop him, since you seem receptive to the idea. I’m a pragmatic man, Scarlet, I can read the writing on the wall.”
I flush and shift in the chair. “I’m not, I mean, I can’t- “ I cut my stuttering off. “This is all just a little bit fast, don’t you think? You don’t know me.”
“Gold does,” Taylor points out.
I look away, clenching my hand around the glass. “And I’m sure he gave you a glowing recommendation on how quick to pack me up and make sure I was being shipped out on the next train.”
“He did.”
I sigh, lean my head back, and put my hand over my eyes, trying to hide how much pain his acknowledgment caused.
“But underneath all that anger and rage was hurt, and hurt only happens when you care. And for some reason, despite what he says, Scarlet, Gold is very, very hurt over you.” He pauses, and when he looks at me, I feel like he’s laughing again. “And there was that incident in the hallway. Barren relayed every detail to me in a very distressed and envious manner.”
I flinch.
I sense Taylor stand up, when he pauses by my chair, I move my hand and open my eyes.
He looks down at me and then bends until his lips meet mine. It’s not a kiss. A kiss is too paltry of a word. This melding is but a way for him to reach inside and touch something no one else has ever been able to. It’s an offering, an olive branch, a temptation, a demand, and a command all rolled into one panty-melting clash of tongues.
“Goodnight, War.” He says against my lips.
I whimper as he draws back, loosening his fingers on the grip he’s got in my hair. I blink up at him, dazed.
“Get some sleep, the wolves hunt at dawn.” He winks at me and walks out. I sit up, twisting around in the chair to watch him go.
He puts his hands in his pockets, starts whistling, and ambles out of the room, leaving the door open.
I sit back with a huff and touch my lips. What the fuck was that?
I sit up in the middle of the night, listening to the rain pound against the side of the house. He said wolves, not wolf. The wolves hunt at dawn. I put my feet on the cold floor and drop my head in my hands.
What am I even doing?
A crash of thunder erupts through the night, making the house tremble. I find myself embracing old habits and silently exit my bedroom, heading to the kitchen. For a long moment, I study the spot where I’d been sitting while Bar came apart. I let Taylor’s words run through my mind. Why is he giving me permission to do this?
I open cupboards until I find a glass and fill it, then I wander around until I find the room with the floor to ceiling glass windows and its two glass doors. I sit on the floor with my legs crossed and watch the storm hurl itself around. At one point, I think I see a shape of a man, but when I stand up and look closer, I realise I’ve just imagined it.
I don’t know when I notice the man watching me in the reflection. Our eyes meet, and we just stare. Baggy sweats and an oversized black hoodie bring vivid memories slamming back into my head. Some things don’t change, I’ve seen him like this a thousand times before. We’re always meeting after dark, when the world is asleep and no one can see us. Why does that make me want to cry? Even now, my instincts won’t acknowledge he’s a threat. He could probably sneak into my bedroom and strangle me, and my subconscious would just sigh in happiness. Finally, he creeps closer and sits beside me. The world is still asleep, and the storm is raging, but my stupid heart sings with happiness.
“Gold.” I murmur his name and feel my stomach flutter.
“Red,” he growls.
I wrap my arms around my knees and rest my face on them, just so I can hide exactly what that growl does to me.
“Your dad’s doing well.”
“I don’t have a dad,” I say flatly.
He opens his mouth, closes it, and finally sighs. “Yeah, I guess you don’t.”
