He can’t be hungry already, but he’s right about me. I’m famished. A few bites of a hot dog several hours ago hasn’t tided me over. My early dinner with Declan was five hours ago, and following that I’d hiked several miles through the desert.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Holy shit. Declan. I’d completely forgotten about him.
A swell of nausea makes bile rise up my throat. Collin’s wolf killed a man only a few hours ago. We left his body in the desert. And since I’d willingly gotten into the dead man’s car with Collin, I am now an accomplice to murder.
What have I done?
I strip my clothes, and the entire time I’m asking myself what I’m doing. I could go to jail. No, I could go to prison for life. Even though Collin abducted me, I’m not sure if that completely absolves me of everything that’s happened. Or does it?
My head is pounding again when I step under the shower’s spray. By the time I turn the water off, my lids are drooping from exhaustion and the craziness that has become my life. And on top of it all, I haven’t been able to talk sense into myself.
This entire messed-up weekend is catching up with me.
Fuck it. I don’t want to deal with this. I just want to go to sleep.
Standing in just a towel with wet hair dripping down my back, I thread a comb through my locks while staring in the mirror. The puncture wounds on my neck, that Collin’s crazy wolf inflicted on me have closed. Small bruises highlight what he’s done, but by tomorrow those will probably be gone too. My wrists are still pink, and there’s still a bump on my head even though it’s decreased in size, but other than those few afflictions, physically you can’t really tell that anything happened to me.
If I go to the police now, I’ll still have physical evidence of what he did.
That small voice of reason speaks in the back of my mind. But then I remember why I didn’t go to the police in the first place. How the hell do I explain wolf puncture wounds on my neck? A human couldn’t do that.
A soft knock comes on the door followed by Collin saying, “I’ve got food on the table if you’re hungry.”
Hearing his voice slows my rapid heartbeat. It was beating so fast I thought it would leap right out of my chest but knowing that he’s still here…
I feel like I can actually breathe again. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”
I wait until I hear him walk away before darting out the door to my bedroom. My apartment is tiny, only one bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen and living area. But considering I don’t see Collin, I know he’s retreated to the kitchen. Otherwise, I’d have a clear view of him in the living room.
In my bedroom, I hastily throw on comfy shorts and a T-shirt before I walk to the kitchen. All ten steps has my heart pounding again, but the scent of food draws me in. I can’t tell what he’s made, but my stomach growls in appreciation.
“I made buttered noodles.”
I shriek and jump around. The bastard snuck up on me again. When I shoot him an accusing glare, his eyes widen and he holds his hands up.
“Sorry. Do you hate buttered noodles?”
Before I can stop myself, I smack his arm. “Stop sneaking up on me. It nearly gives me a heart attack!”
He laughs and catches my hand before I can pull it back. “Sorry, I’ll try to remember that.” His firm warm grip closes around me. He makes no move to let go. The laughter dies in his eyes, and his gaze follows mine.
I’m staring at our joined hands. He’s touching me. His hand feels solid, slightly rough, and incredibly warm.
It feels…
Right.
It feels like how it’s supposed to.
What the actual fuck?
My heart pounds again, and I yank my hand away. I immediately feel empty, and my body lurches in Collin’s direction.
No, you idiot. You’re going the wrong way!
As fast as I can, I force myself to move the opposite way and stumble toward the kitchen table. Two plates of steaming buttered noodles sit across from one another. I’m in such a hurry to get to the table that I trip, but I manage to catch myself right before I fall onto the chair.
I don’t wait for him to join me. I grab my fork and begin inhaling my food. It’s