Running in the Dark by Regan Summers Page B

flunkies cracked and put back on the shelf while you were somewhere else. I was doing my job, which I am good at. Got it?” He paced to the chair and back, his heel shrieking against the floor when he turned.
    “I had to see—”
    “If you want to know something, fucking ask me.” I waved a hand beside my head. “Look into my eyes, not at my neck!” And here I’d thought I’d be starting this confrontation. His gaze fixed on the door and my jaw threatened to drop. Oh, hell no. I stepped in front of him and he actually jerked back before I touched him.
    “We are not through.” I stabbed a finger at him. “You thought you could come home, yell at me, then just walk away? Not happening.”
    “I don’t want you to hate me.”
    My eyebrows shot up. “Well, the way you’re acting is making that pretty damn difficult. I was doing my job, just like we goddamn talked about. What’s changed?” I took another step forward and he moved backward just as quickly. He went poker-faced in an instant, emotions disengaging and leaving a smooth, gorgeous mask behind. My anger elevated close to outright fury. How could he be so calm, when he’d pushed me to my boiling point?
    “Sydney.” His jaw clenched and his energy pulsed as it escaped his control. The lamp flickered. His eyes flashed on me for an instant before he raked a hand through his hair. I reached for him and he slipped away from my hand, backing up against the dresser. Intentionally moving away from me. And damn it all if that didn’t hurt. He’d let her touch him, but I wasn’t allowed?
    “You came here for a reason, Malcolm. Talk to me.”
    “If something happens to you now, it’ll be my fault. Mine. And if something happens to you…” His hands closed on the edge of the dresser, and the wood creaked under his hold. I glared back into the deep gold glow in his eyes, and as I watched him struggle, understanding dawned. He was such an idiot. I took a breath to yell at him again and a wave of memory crashed across my mind.
    I’d spent years watching my parents scream at each other. Sometimes they’d kept at it after they forgot what they were fighting about, and I’d sworn that if I ever ended up with someone, I would never act the way they did. Not with somebody I was supposed to care about. I raised my chin and spoke quietly, despite the angry tears prickling against my eyes.
    “That’s why you’re so mad? Not at me, but at the way you thought they were treating me?”
    His expression was too grim to be reassuring. “Yes.” His power was heating the room, and started having a similar effect on me. It sank into my skin, sizzling through my muscles. I was already amped and he filled me with so much energy, I nearly began vibrating. I got to see him so rarely. Now I had him in our bedroom and we were fighting. What a waste.
    “I’m fine,” I murmured. I moved closer, and this time he didn’t skip away, but his hands moved restlessly at his sides. He was solid, large enough that his body hid the light of the lamp from me, and he was so warm.
    His lips parted. Before he could say anything I drew his head down and rose up on my toes to meet his mouth with mine. His hand touched my cheek, stroking lightly. Not quite the reaction I was going for.
    I pressed myself forward while pulling him against me. His mouth became more insistent, and his hands slid down my sides. He picked me up, fingers digging into the backs of my thighs. Much better. My legs wrapped around his hips and we slammed into the dresser. Loose change skittered across the top and rained onto the floor. His hand snaked up the back of my shirt and unhooked my bra. He gripped my shoulder, grinding me against him as his other hand dragged the strap of my tank top down until the fabric slipped off my breast. I shivered in the churning air. And then his mouth was there, and I was moaning incoherent demands.
    And getting exactly nothing I asked for. He stopped, resting his weight on me so I