Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Annahi
The past week and a half, I’ve found my head spinning. Not in the usual way. It’s spinning in a way I’ve never experienced before. Mostly because of a certain man who is driving me absolutely bonkers.
When we’re not in the room by ourselves, which is a lot of times, he’s touching me in some way. Holding my hand. His arm around my shoulder or my waist. If we’re sitting, his thigh is pressed against mine with how close he’s had me sitting next to him.
During those times, not once did I hear any of the others’ thoughts. Justice did, though. It’s why he keeps touching me, protecting me. I want to tell him to stop. That I’m fine. I don’t need him to keep the thoughts at bay.
What triggered me was all the rage I’d felt in the thoughts at the clinic.
It’d been overwhelming. Yeah, it also didn’t help that it led me to a depressive state where I tried to kill myself.
I can’t help that. It’s why I do so much better on my own.
I can handle one or two people at a time.
It’s not so bad then, but having so many at one time, yeah, it’d really messed with me.
I want to be able to go back to work. My wrists don’t hurt anymore where I’d slit them. They were healing nicely, and I didn’t have a hard time with them anymore.
One bright side is that Zaid did bring Miss Petal to the clubhouse with everything she needed.
I got to love on her, but Miss Petal took to Corbin’s daughter, Sage, the first time they met, and they’ve been inseparable.
Corbin even adopted the bobcat for her, promising that he’d make sure nothing happened to her in his words ‘the damn cat’.
I wanted to giggle, shocking myself, at how he acted. I knew he was a wolf shifter from Justice. He told me what shifter animal each of his brothers was.
Justice was one of the only coyote shifters in the club. There was another one named Salem, and Tobias was half coyote, half wolf.
The downside of things is that Justice was still treating me like I was made of frail glass that would shatter at any given moment. I didn’t like it. I loathed it more than anything.
Clara had explained to me over the phone during one of our conversations that it was because he’s my mate and didn’t like seeing me hurt. It didn’t help that I’d done it to myself. So that made it all that much worse.
I don’t understand anything about mates.
I had only heard of them because of Clara and Zaid.
They’d tell me Oh it’s a mate thing and leave it at that when they’d do something that made me question them about it.
They never explained more than that. I didn’t ask either.
I was human, so I didn’t think I’d have a mate.
I always thought it was amazing, though to have someone to be connected with on a completely different level.
Like the way Zaid and Clara were. Being around the clubhouse and seeing the other mates, I liked seeing how they were as well.
There was peace and balance between them, but something more as well.
Mostly, it was all beautiful, and I wish I had what they had.
Another downer for me was that Justice hadn’t even talked to me about us being mates.
He kept me as close as possible and kept topics light.
Nothing about him. Nothing to tell me more about who he was or where he came from.
Justice talked about his brothers. About the club.
About anything other than something remotely close to being about himself.
It’s frustrating.
Then again, I didn’t tell him anything about me either and he didn’t ask.
I didn’t either.
So, maybe it’s my fault that he hasn’t said anything.
I could share with him, cross the invisible barrier the two of us have seemed to have in place regarding what we talk about.
If I did, though, would he return and share with me?
Or leave me out there alone with my past no longer .
. . not that my past is no longer anything.
It’s still very much a part of my present and future.
I can’t hide from my mom. If she wants me for something, she’ll find a way to get to me.
To be honest, I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up here at the clubhouse. Then again, those of the club aren’t fond of blood witches. Some even curl their lips when I’m around. I’m not a blood witch, but evidently, I carry the scent of one because of her.
There’s no way the men here would ever let her close to the place. I don’t blame them either. She was a horrible woman. I didn’t want anything to do with her. Not by choice, that is.
Glancing to where Justice has planted himself in the only chair in his room, his eyes glued to his phone, jaw clenched, I figure now isn’t the time to get into our pasts. What it was time for was for me to tell him about going back to work.
“I want to go back to the clinic,” I announce.
“No.” Justice doesn’t even glance up from his phone.
“What do you mean ‘No’?” I snap, planting my hands on my hips.
“Just what I said, you’re not going back to the clinic.”
What the hell does he mean by that? “I have a right to go back to work. You can’t keep me here forever.”
Finally, that got his attention, and he lifted his head, eyes flashing with annoyance, though I swear there’s something else there in those dark eyes. The gold shows itself in them, and I do my best not to shudder, not in fear, but in need . . . desire.
I knew I wanted him. My body reacted to him every time he looked at me or touched me in some way. It’s like fire that licks at my skin. The feeling only grows hotter with each day.
“If I want to go back to work, I think I should be able to go. I’m healing. My wrists don’t hurt.” Much, but I don’t tell him that. “And you can’t dictate what I do and don’t do. I’m going back to work.”
Justice’s eyes flare more, his jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s an intimidating force just sitting there. However, I have to hold myself from taking a step back when he stands. I tilt my head back with each step he takes as he closes the distance between the two of us.
“You aren’t going back to work, and that’s final,” he growls, dipping his head so he’s in my space and our noses are nearly touching.
“I am,” I declare, proud of myself for not giving in. I even give him a glare that I hope seems intimidating. Granted, his glare was much more so than I’m sure mine had to be.
“You’re not.” Those two words were bitten off harshly with a snarl.
“You’re not going to dictate what I do or don’t, Justice. I can handle going back to work.” I take a step back, only for him to take that step, keeping us close.
“I don’t give a shit if you think you can handle going back to work or not. You’re not going. End of discussion.” He snarls, hooking his arm around my waist and tugging me flush against his front. “You’re gonna stay right where I need you to be, Peanut, and that being right here.”
I open my mouth to argue with him once again, only to find his mouth on mine, tongue spearing right between my lips. I tense in his arms before relaxing and kissing him back.
It’s my first ever kiss. I don’t know if I’m kissing him right, but I don’t care. I’m doing what feels right, or I hope is right. I circle one arm around his neck and clench at his shirt with the other to hold on to him for dear life.
Justice was kissing me.
He was actually more than just kissing me.
His mouth seemed to be commanding mine.
I close my eyes and savor the way he’s kissing me. It’s not what I expected it to be like, and I love it. I want to memorize every part of it. Seal it to my memory to lock away and think of when I needed it most.
Justice shifts up ever so slightly, his hand going to my bottom, curling there and squeezing.
Oh wow.
I liked that.
More than liked it.
The way his tongue swirls around mine, the commanding of it, it’s . . . it’s . . . well, I’m not sure how to explain it, considering it’s my first kiss, but if I had to put words to it, glorious would be it.
I want him to keep going. To take things further, only he doesn’t. Justice goes from kissing me deeply to tensing under my touch to not kissing me at all, his head turning toward the door, eyes narrowing.
“Fuck,” he growls quietly.
“What?” I blink at him, unsure of why he’s suddenly tensing.
Justice’s eyes come back to me, and I get a good look at his expression. Lust burns in his eyes. However, the rest of his face says something different altogether. His jaw ticks, and his lip is curled up at the corner in anger or disgust.
My heart feels like a fist is grabbing it and squeezing tightly. That’s nothing on the way my stomach seems to twist. Worse, I feel my throat seizing, so I can’t breathe.
Does he regret kissing me?
When he lets me go, I drop my gaze to the floor, not wanting him to see the tears starting to swell in my eyes as I let out a heavy breath through trembling lips.
Justice doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room, heading for the door. I watch him through my lashes while trying my best to keep the tears at bay. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want him to see me cry.
His not saying anything alongside the way he jerked away from me screams at me how much he wishes he hadn’t kissed me.
Could it have been that bad for him?
Was I that horrible of a kisser?
Before he can open the door, I find the courage to ask him, “Am I a horrible kisser that you have to leave?”
Justice’s hand stills on the handle for a slight second before he yanks it open. On the other side of it stood Zavier. “Get lost.” He slams the door back in his face, turns and prowls back toward me, his arm going around my waist.
The way he yanks me close, I can feel his hardness between his legs.
“You think you’re a horrible kisser?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I admit. There was no reason to hide the truth.
One of Justice’s hands comes up to curl around the back of my head, tangling in my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze. “That was your first kiss?”