Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Anne
Who the hell does he think he is?
My heels strike the floor tiles with agitated clicks as I storm back inside, each step punctuated by the fury coursing through my veins.
The nerve of him!
The elevator arrives too fast because I have not had the time to calm down and not fast enough because I can’t wait to put as much distance between me and Kain as possible.
I step inside, and the doors slide shut, sealing me in with my own ragged breathing.
I force myself to inhale and exhale slowly, trying to find some semblance of control before these doors open and I unleash on the first innocent person I see.
Whimpers echo in my chest, low and pained. I push back so hard, my jaw clenches until my teeth ache. My wolf has got to get with the new reality: he’s not ours, not anymore.
The elevator dings, and I step out onto my floor. My footsteps are still too brisk, loud enough that a few heads turn to look as I cross to my cubicle. Curious glances follow me, but no one speaks to me. Thank the Goddess, because I’m not sure I could manage to be polite right now.
I drop into my chair and yank my keyboard closer. My fingers slam against the keys harder than necessary as I pull up the spreadsheet I was working on before I left for lunch.
The hours pass. Around me, the office gradually empties as people pack up and head home. Voices call out goodbyes that I barely register, and footsteps fade down hallways, the ambient noise of a workday winding down filtering through my awareness without really penetrating.
I just keep working, keep staring at numbers that stopped making sense two hours ago. I keep my eyes locked on the screen because looking anywhere else means thinking, and thinking means feeling, and I can’t afford to feel right now.
“Hi Anne, working late tonight?”
Derek’s voice breaks through my concentration. I barely lift my head, eyes still mostly on the screen as I respond.
“Yes.”
The word comes out harshly, laced with a sharp edge I didn’t mean to aim at him. Derek clears his throat, and I wince a little before making myself actually look up at him.
He’s standing at the edge of my cubicle, concern creasing his forehead. “I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit, uh, moody lately. Just wanted to check in, see if you’re okay?”
The tightness in my chest intensifies. Here’s Derek, being kind, being thoughtful, and I nearly bit his head off for it. I sigh, letting some of the tension drain from my shoulders.
“Thanks. I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve had a lot on my plate the last few weeks.”
“Yeah, we’ve all been there at some point.” Derek’s smile is sympathetic and easy. “Work can be draining.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Actually”—he tilts his weight casually but with purpose—”some of the other staff and I are going to a club this weekend. I know you usually say no when we invite you to these things, but I really think it helps with stress. Get out, let loose a little, forget about spreadsheets for a few hours.”
I force a tight smile onto my lips. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be too tired. I’ll just need sleep.”
Derek mirrors my smile, but his is soft and understanding. “That’s fine,” he says gently. “See you tomorrow. And take it easy, okay?”
He’s already turning away. But as he starts to go, a movement in the corner of my vision makes me look toward the break room entrance.
My eyes land on Kain, standing just inside the doorway, his body angled like he’s looking in my direction. Our eyes meet for a split second before he turns and walks away, disappearing down the hall toward the elevators.
I feel something hot and sharp and furious rise within me. I call out, “Actually, Derek?”
He looks back at me, eyebrows lifting. “Yeah?”
“I’d like to take you up on that invite. I’ll come to the club this weekend.”
His whole face lights up. “Really? That’s great! It’ll be fun, I promise. I’ll text you the details.”
“Sounds good.”
He leaves with a wave, and I turn back to my screen.
I lose myself in the work in front of me until my fingertips ache.
The office grows darker as night falls. One by one, the overhead lights switch to their energy-saving mode.
I’m the only one left, my cubicle a small island of light in an ocean of shadows.
I finally admit defeat around eight, saving my work and shutting down my computer. My bag feels heavier than usual. Or maybe I’m just tired. The kind of tired that sleep won’t fix.
The parking lot is nearly empty when I step outside. The air is cool, almost cold, and I pull my jacket tighter as I head toward my car.
Then, I see him. Kain is leaning against his car, one hand lowering from his ear as if he has just finished a phone call. His eyes find me immediately and start following my movement across the lot.
I force my gaze away, fix it straight ahead on my own car, and quicken my pace. “Just get to the car, hop in, and drive away. Don’t look at him; don’t acknowledge him. Don’t give him the satisfaction,” I whisper to myself.
I reach my car, beep it open, and slide into the driver’s seat. I turn the key in the ignition, but nothing happens.
What the hell?
I turn it again. The engine makes a grinding sound, like it’s trying to catch but failing. I turn the key once more, hard, but it’s the same result. The grinding gets weaker each time, as if the car is giving up.
“Fuck!” The word bursts out of me as I shove the door open and get out. I slam it shut hard enough that the sound echoes across the parking lot.
I open it again to pop the hood because I have to do something, because standing here doing nothing makes me feel even more helpless.
I stare at the engine. I don’t know the first thing about cars; I don’t know what I’m looking for or what I’d do if I found it.
If I glare at it hard enough, maybe it’ll magically fix itself.
But I can feel his eyes on me from across the lot. Can feel the weight of his stare like a physical touch.
And then, I hear his footsteps. Getting closer.
“Let me take a look.”
Kain’s voice comes from right behind me, near enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, and every muscle in my body goes rigid.
“I don’t need your help.”
“You’ve been staring at the engine for two full minutes.” His tone is maddeningly calm, rational, almost lecturing. “Doesn’t seem to me like you know what to do. Just let me take a look.”
I want to tell him to go to hell. I’d rather slam this hood down and walk home, if it comes to that. But he’s already moving, stepping into the space I grudgingly vacate. I fold my arms across my chest and watch.
He rolls up his sleeves, revealing forearms corded with muscle and scattered with scars I don’t remember from when we were young. His back flexes as he leans over the engine, hands moving with competent precision. My stupid heart skips a beat, which makes my wolf whimper eagerly.
I tear my eyes away and force them to stare at the dark trees beyond the parking lot.
“Engine’s shot,” Kain says after a minute, straightening. “You’re going to need a mechanic, but this late, you won’t get anyone till tomorrow morning at the earliest.”
I remain silent, still not looking at him.
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
“No.” The word is immediate, automatic. “I’ll call a cab.” I pull out my phone and swipe to the local taxi app.
“Anne…”
I still don’t look at him. I tap the screen, and the app starts to open, but the low battery icon beeps twice in my face before the screen goes black.
“Damn it!” I shake the phone like that’ll somehow bring it back to life, then shove it in my pocket with much more force than needed.
“I will drive you home,” Kain repeats, and there’s an edge to his voice now, impatience breaking through the calm.
My blood pressure spikes. “I’d rather walk.”
“It’s not safe.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
I start heading for the street, stomping hard enough to damage my heels, my whole body vibrating with fury and something else I refuse to even acknowledge.
Footsteps come from behind me, faster than mine, and then Kain’s hand lands on my arm. His fingers wrap around my bicep, and suddenly, I’m being spun around.
“What the—” I start, but he’s already pulling me back toward his car, his grip firm but not painful, and my brain short circuits trying to process the audacity. “Stop! Let go of me!”
He does neither. He just keeps walking, dragging me with him, and I’m too shocked to properly resist until we reach his car and he yanks open the passenger door.
“Get in.”
“I don’t want to.” My chest is heaving, my breaths coming fast and angrily.
“Stop being so stubborn.”
Then, his hands are on my shoulders, turning me around and guiding me into the seat with a combination of strength and care that makes my skin tingle.
His entire frame crowds into my space as he reaches across to buckle my seat belt, his chest brushing against my shoulder, the heat from his body overwhelming every sense I have.
I bite my lower lip hard, using the pain to shut down the heat threatening to build low in my belly. He closes my door, and I turn my face to the window as he moves around to the other side. He gets in behind the wheel, and the car suddenly feels too small.
“What’s your address?”
“8192 Cedar Hollow Lane,” I say tightly, keeping my eyes on the front passenger window.
He starts the engine and pulls out of the lot.
The drive goes by in complete silence. I watch the streetlights fly past as the familiar route to my neighborhood unfolds in darkness and amber light.
I can feel him glancing at me, brief looks that I pretend not to notice, his attention like a physical weight that I can’t escape in this enclosed space.
My reflection in the window shows a woman with tight shoulders and a clenched jaw, and I hate that I look as agitated as I feel.
The instant the car stops in front of my apartment building, I’m unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.
“What? You’re not even going to say thank you?”
Kain’s voice stops me with my hand on the door. I turn my head, finally looking at him directly for the first time since he forced me into this car.
“I told you I could’ve walked. I didn’t need your help.”
I exit the car and step up to the front door. Without so much as a glance over my shoulder, I unlock it, head inside, and climb the stairs. But the second the door to my apartment closes behind me, I lean back against it, eyes closed, trying to breathe through the chaos rioting in my chest.
My wolf is whining with sounds of distress and longing that grate against every raw nerve I have.
I cross to the window—can’t help myself—and peek through the curtains.
His car is still there with the engine running. Just sitting in front of my apartment building like he’s waiting for something. One minute passes, then two. Finally, he pulls away, taillights disappearing down the street.
As soon as he’s gone, my wolf whimpers again. She is louder, more insistent now.
I ignore her and grab my keys. I march back outside and across the street to the liquor store that’s somehow still open despite the late hour. The bell dings as I push through the door. The clerk looks up from his phone, takes one look at my face, and straightens to his full height.
“Can I get a six-pack of that beer, please, and a bottle of that red wine?” I ask, pointing.
His eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Rough day?”
“You have no idea.”
He doesn’t ask questions, just pulls bottles from the shelf behind him and bags them up. I pay, grab the bag, and walk back across the street.
Inside my apartment, I don’t bother with a glass; I just twist the cap off the bottle of wine and drink straight from it. The slight burn slides down my throat, but I welcome it.
I sink onto my couch, bottle in hand, and let the anger and hurt and confusion wash over me in waves.
This is fine. Everything is fine, I tell myself.
I take another drink.
Liar.