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“I was right about you.”
I frown. “About what?”
He grabs the front of my hoodie, yanking me to him, and licks the side of my face. I tell myself three times that this should not be hot, but the sad truth of the matter is that it is, and I want more.
“Don’t have enough time.” Bar growls angrily. He shoves my hoodie up and over my head, twisting it around my wrists so they are restrained.
All at once, he goes still and stares down at me.
“Why don’t you stop me?” The words are harsh, angry, hurting.
I smile at him. “Perhaps I don’t want to.”
“You could have used your bark at any time in any of the situations we’ve been in. Why don't you lose your temper? You don’t behave like an alpha.”
Words said to hurt because he’s in pain. I can almost feel it on him. I let the words roll off me.
I snort a laugh. “And you don’t behave like an omega.”
He doesn’t laugh with me, just stares down at me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. The anger is seeping away, and uncertainty takes its place. I don’t like that.
“Okay, so why didn’t you use it on them?”
I shrug and look away.
“Why did you let them treat you like that!” He shouts. “Why are you letting me treat you like this?”
He’s hurting. It’s soaking into the air around us, and it makes me ache. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? I want to soothe him, want to make him smile, comfort him. His pain is my pain, and I won’t have it.
“Darling?” He looks down at me. I have to wait for the crazy to ease out of his eyes. “I let you treat me like this because I know where my limits and lines are, and to date, everything we have done I’m more than fine with. Let me up.”
I raise my brow, waiting until he rolls to the side and lies beside me. I fling the material free of my wrists and across the room.
“And the reason I don’t waste my time playing power games with puny men is because I don’t need a dick to know mines bigger.”
Bar snorts a laugh.
“They didn’t want you.”
“And you see me lying here in my bed sobbing broken-heartedly?”
The front door slams open, the lock ripping part of the frame off. Jet and Gold walk in like they own my poor cottage. Gold takes a look at us, and I swear, I see his nostrils flare. Jet comes inside, glancing around with a growing smile. His delight puts twinkles in his eye and seems to only cause Gold to tense until he’s rigidly glaring into a corner, not seeing anything. Jet shucks his jacket off and flops on the bed on the other side of me.
“You’re fixing my door, Jet.”
He just smirks and rubs Barren’s stomach. “Well, that was fun. Did you enjoy that excursion, baby? Because Taylor is in a mood.”
Bar winces. “Well, you should have seen-“
I reach out and squeeze his hand. He looks at me and raises his brows. I shake my head, and he subsides.
“Seen what?” Jet asks, sitting up and glancing between us.
I bounce off the bed and walk into my kitchen, pulling my hoodie down and finding Gold, who I’d almost forgotten about. The two of us stand in the tiny space and stare at each other. Space seems to shrink until there’s not enough air. The look of rage in his eyes, that hatred, is still just as toxic and fresh as ever.
“Brother,” I mock. Attack to hide the hurt.
His cheek twitches, but he doesn’t react.
