was more brutal when her eyes were locked with mine. The need to be next to her so intense, I had to grip my ankle with one hand to keep from jumping up and stalking in her direction. She needed to go, all right. She needed to stay away from me if she didn’t want my attention. And I needed to go back to Chicago where I wouldn’t see her anymore and could lick my wounds.
The thought of leaving, of running away like a coward, didn’t sit well with me, but I was beginning to see it as my only option. For whatever reason, my soul refused to take the hint that she had no interest in me. Instead of fading or breaking, the draw to her only increased with every moment. I needed to escape. To get away before I acted on the need demanding I pull her into my arms and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her. She didn’t want me, and I had to respect that.
Yet, as she walked out the door, she turned around to take a final look. Her eyes met mine again, bright and wide and filled with something almost like a longing. Which couldn’t be… She’d refused me. She’d told me no. That should have been the end of it. Nowhere in the histories I’d read of both sides of my shifter heritage did it mention second chances for refused mates. It didn’t happen. If the mate refused you, you walked away and either suffered through decades of emotional torment or you died. End of story.
So why was Scarlett looking at me as if she didn’t want to walk away?
And why were my inner beasts still screaming out mine ?
SIX
Scarlett
Damn that Shadow and his ridiculously handsome face. The man was going to drive me to drink. All week, I’d had to replay visions of him in my head. The curve of his back as he turned away, the muscles bulging in his arm as he hammered on that piece of wood, the way his fingers pinched the nails from between his lips. But the worst, the absolute showstopper of my little Shadow-movie from Zuri’s house, was the look he gave me when I was leaving. The way he seemed to look all the way inside of me practically set my soul on fire with those gray eyes of his.
That look had wrecked me.
But that was it…one look, and he went right back to work. Did he not feel the same turmoil I did when we were in the same room? Did he not notice the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every day? I rocked and searched for solid ground, adrift on a sea of the unknown, and he pounded in nails as if all this fated soul bond crap was nothing. As if I was nothing.
Well, screw that.
If he was going to make it a habit to be in my world, I’d make it a habit to be in his. Starting with his Feral Breed denhouse. The wolf shifters were hosting some charity ride to Chicago to celebrate the birthday of their leader. Beast had asked me to help with the plans a month or so ago, but I hadn’t wanted to deal with being at the denhouse because Amber had been hounding me about one of the dogs being my red thread.
And damn, I hated it when she was so very right.
Still, today wasn’t about Amber, it was about Shadow. The man whose eyes practically sent me straight to ashes on the wind, especially when they passed right over me. Shadow, who barged into my life without my asking. He came onto my turf and upset my world, so I’d do the same to him. I’d infiltrate his private space and make sure he knew who the hell I was. No sense hiding from the shifters or the den any longer… My fear had been realized.
I followed Amber to the Feral Breed denhouse with my head high, my heels clacking, and my skirt a little too short for a casual afternoon of working out event details. Immature, maybe, but I wanted to make a damned point. I could catch a man’s eye…maybe not my own red thread’s, but someone in this denhouse would notice me. I’d make sure of it. Not to mention, Shadow looked like some kind of bad-boy-gone-good rock star in his dark T-shirts and the faded-to-perfection jeans that hugged his ass in a way that should have been illegal.
The thought of leaving, of running away like a coward, didn’t sit well with me, but I was beginning to see it as my only option. For whatever reason, my soul refused to take the hint that she had no interest in me. Instead of fading or breaking, the draw to her only increased with every moment. I needed to escape. To get away before I acted on the need demanding I pull her into my arms and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her. She didn’t want me, and I had to respect that.
Yet, as she walked out the door, she turned around to take a final look. Her eyes met mine again, bright and wide and filled with something almost like a longing. Which couldn’t be… She’d refused me. She’d told me no. That should have been the end of it. Nowhere in the histories I’d read of both sides of my shifter heritage did it mention second chances for refused mates. It didn’t happen. If the mate refused you, you walked away and either suffered through decades of emotional torment or you died. End of story.
So why was Scarlett looking at me as if she didn’t want to walk away?
And why were my inner beasts still screaming out mine ?
SIX
Scarlett
Damn that Shadow and his ridiculously handsome face. The man was going to drive me to drink. All week, I’d had to replay visions of him in my head. The curve of his back as he turned away, the muscles bulging in his arm as he hammered on that piece of wood, the way his fingers pinched the nails from between his lips. But the worst, the absolute showstopper of my little Shadow-movie from Zuri’s house, was the look he gave me when I was leaving. The way he seemed to look all the way inside of me practically set my soul on fire with those gray eyes of his.
That look had wrecked me.
But that was it…one look, and he went right back to work. Did he not feel the same turmoil I did when we were in the same room? Did he not notice the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every day? I rocked and searched for solid ground, adrift on a sea of the unknown, and he pounded in nails as if all this fated soul bond crap was nothing. As if I was nothing.
Well, screw that.
If he was going to make it a habit to be in my world, I’d make it a habit to be in his. Starting with his Feral Breed denhouse. The wolf shifters were hosting some charity ride to Chicago to celebrate the birthday of their leader. Beast had asked me to help with the plans a month or so ago, but I hadn’t wanted to deal with being at the denhouse because Amber had been hounding me about one of the dogs being my red thread.
And damn, I hated it when she was so very right.
Still, today wasn’t about Amber, it was about Shadow. The man whose eyes practically sent me straight to ashes on the wind, especially when they passed right over me. Shadow, who barged into my life without my asking. He came onto my turf and upset my world, so I’d do the same to him. I’d infiltrate his private space and make sure he knew who the hell I was. No sense hiding from the shifters or the den any longer… My fear had been realized.
I followed Amber to the Feral Breed denhouse with my head high, my heels clacking, and my skirt a little too short for a casual afternoon of working out event details. Immature, maybe, but I wanted to make a damned point. I could catch a man’s eye…maybe not my own red thread’s, but someone in this denhouse would notice me. I’d make sure of it. Not to mention, Shadow looked like some kind of bad-boy-gone-good rock star in his dark T-shirts and the faded-to-perfection jeans that hugged his ass in a way that should have been illegal.
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