6. Harper #2
Rhone started clipping those long pieces too, moving and holding the hair like he'd done it before.
"I'm probably missing some pieces," he said. "I can find a hairdresser in the tower to fix it."
"I don't want anyone that close to me."
"Why not?"
Because I didn't trust myself not to attack them.
I ignored the question.
"If you keep telling people that I fucked you, they're going to expect us to spend breeding season together," Rhone said, surprising me a little.
"If you keep threatening to kill anyone I bite, they're going to expect that anyway."
"You’re not going to bite anyone. Problem solved."
I rolled my eyes.
"Did you feel better with more blood in your system?" he asked.
I didn't reply.
Didn't want to give him any more ammunition, because yeah, I actually had.
"I'm sure you did," he eventually said, shaking my hair out again and making a few more snips. I didn't see any long pieces that time, so I wondered if he was trying to extend the conversation.
We'd never talked like this before.
He obviously wasn’t enjoying it, so he was probably just fixing my haircut
"I'm not drinking more from you than I usually do, so it doesn't matter," I said, reaching for the scissors in his hand.
He tucked them in the pocket of his black cargo pants.
I kind of hated that I was attracted to a man wearing cargo pants. But I was.
"Why not?" He watched me in the mirror that was really a viewing window. I wondered if anyone was out there. Hoped they weren't. Whatever we were doing, he was definitely winning.
Like always.
"Personal reasons." I stepped away from him.
He caught me with a hand on my waist. My bare waist, thanks to the cropped tee I was wearing, with the bike shorts. I'd made sure not to get hair dye on them. I liked them too much.
Rhone pulled the fangs out of his pocket, now connected to the dainty rose gold chain. "Pink metal is an interesting choice too. I didn’t know this existed." He held it up next to my hair, and the colors were completely different. Hot pink, and pinkish gold.
"Rose gold has been a thing for ages, Rhone."
The skepticism on his face was almost amusing.
"Isn't there usually silver in the rose gold?" I asked. It didn't look like it was burning his fingers. Maybe a small amount of silver wouldn't hurt?
"I don't know. Nolan couldn't get it back until this morning, so they might've had to add something else. I'm sure he told them they couldn't use silver."
"Or he found out when he tried to pick it up and it burned him."
Rhone secured the necklace around my throat.
The fangs rested against the dip between my collarbones, and I lifted my fingers up to touch them.
The deep, echoing snap that rolled through my mind had me closing my eyes.
I was safe.
Velour was dead.
I tried to convince myself, but it didn't work.
"Tell me why you trust Ryker more than me." Rhone's abrupt question—command was a better word, actually—distracted me from the awful memory.
I glanced up at him, finding his expression stony again.
Whatever he felt about the night before, he didn't want me to know it.
That was interesting too.
"Tell me why you think I trust Ryker more than you," I countered.
"You drank significantly more from him."
My stomach clenched.
"Don't do that," Rhone growled. "The fucker is fine. Tell me why you trust him enough to let him feed you what you actually need."
"I trust myself more with him. That's all."
"What does that mean?"
"Why do you care what it means, Rhone?"
"I don't know." His answer was blunt and honest in a way I appreciated, so I gave him part of the truth.
"I'm comfortable with you, and I'm not comfortable with him. If I get comfortable while I'm feeding, I might lose control of myself."
"You're well aware that I can handle you if you lose control."
"I don't want to be handled."
"You do." His hand brushed the side of my neck, sweeping more cut hairs off the skin. They were sticking, and itching a little. The minor annoyance was nothing compared to the bloodlust I felt, like a deep, aching black hole. "You didn't get off when he fucked you."
It was a statement, not a question.
"I don't think I can orgasm anymore. The bloodlust is too strong. The sex made me feel a little more human even without it."
"Is that what you want to feel? Human?"
I shrugged.
There was something in his eyes that I'd never seen before. I didn't know what it meant, but I didn't think it would bode well for me.
"I could make you climax," Rhone said.
"Maybe." I leaned toward him a little, and he tipped his head down so I could whisper, "If I was willing to let you try."
I no longer had to wonder what the something in his eyes was.
It was lust.
Pure, hot lust.
"But I'm not, and I'm not hungry, so..." I swept my hand toward the door, shooing him. "Get out of my room."
"You're always hungry, and this isn't your room. You can't kick me out of the pack's property."
"Agree to disagree." I walked back toward the uncomfortable bed. "I sleep better here."
It was half true.
I never slept well, but the mattress in the observation room was so uncomfortable that I woke up more often, which meant my nightmares didn't last as long. Sleep was miserable regardless.
"No, you don't. I don't agree to disagree, either."
"How did you recover after you lost everything?" I asked him.
I’d heard from Bloom that Rhone and Maverick both lost their families in the war. I was pretty sure the sensitive subject would make Rhone leave.
His eyes narrowed at me, and he didn't respond immediately.
He didn’t leave, though.
"You and Maverick knew each other as kids. I heard the story about the orchards. His parents handled the cherries, yours did something else. You were rivals. If his family is gone, yours is too. How did you recover from it?"
The way all of the color drained out of Rhone's face made me feel a smidgen of guilt.
My raging bloodlust replaced it quickly.
I didn't expect him to answer, but after his throat bobbed, moving the dark, inky tattoos on his skin with it, he did.
"You don't recover from that kind of loss. You find something else to focus on and choose to live for the people who didn't get to."
Rhone stared at me for a few more seconds.
Then left.
Quickly.
I stared at the wall.
He was right. I had only decided to live, to fight, because I knew how much it would hurt Bloom to lose me. I was buying her time.
I loved my best friend fiercely, but my willpower was fading.
I needed more.
My mom's words rang louder through my mind.
"KILL HER."
"KILL HER."
"KILL HER."
Who were you supposed to live for if your own mother wanted you dead?