taking way longer than expected.
—Meme
He didn’t stop. While she kept the death grip tight, trying to remain conscious, Quentin carried her all the way to his truck, where he opened the back door and set her on the seat. But she was still clinging on for dear life.
He let her. For a few minutes. He buried his face in her hair and hugged her back just as hard. Then, as though coming to his senses, he shoved her away from him and pointed to the duffle bag. His eyes were solid black, but the color was shrinking into inky tendrils, the depths of his cobalt irises now showing through. “There are clothes in there. You’ll have to dig through it to find the sweats. They have a drawstring so they should be okay.”
She looked down. The cleaner had soaked through her pants, the smell pungent and acrid. And Quentin’s shirt had a wet spot where she’d tried to fuse their molecules together. But the jacket and shirt hung open, exposing part of her bra. She scrambled back and tried to cover her embarrassment with the ripped coat.
A jacket he had yet to notice. The moment his gaze dropped to the gaping hole in what hopefully was not his favorite fashion statement, his eyes began to blacken again, just barely, the reaction clearly controlled by emotion. He pulled her closer again and tore it open. Looking for any injuries. Sliding his hand over her stomach and her rib cage and her—
“I’m okay,” she said, pushing at his hands and trying to close the jacket. Her cheeks were wet and now burned with embarrassment. And industrial cleaner. And black salt. She could only imagine what they looked like.
He took her by the arms and asked, “Why the fuck would you do that?”
She hiccupped before answering. “I was trying to find out what it wanted.”
He jerked her closer until their faces were centimeters apart. His was the picture of rage when he asked, “Why the fuck would you have Rune hold me like that?”
She tried to squirm out of his grasp. She failed. “You… You heard me?”
“I heard you.” He jerked again, but he did it in such a way as to not hurt her. It was more for show. His muscles and tendons corded with the effort, an effort she imagined was born more out of his desire not to hurt her than vice versa. “I heard everything. I just couldn’t do anything about it.” His jaw clenched in anger, he let her go as though disgusted with her. “You had no right to do that.”
“I know.” She had violated him. Entered his mind without permission. She’d vowed never to do that years ago and now… He had every reason to be livid. Then again, so did she. “I get it. I had no right. But you had no right not to tell me what happened to you. Not after everything we’d been through. You just left.” Her voice cracked, and she turned to go through the duffle bag. She found a T-shirt and a pair of gray sweats with a drawstring and started stripping. “You left me.” She lifted the torn T-shirt over her head, suddenly uncaring of what he saw and what he didn’t. Clearly, she disgusted him. She fought the trembling of her traitorous lower lip as she slipped on his T-shirt. It was tan with the words Blue Sun on it and Chinese characters underneath. “They took you, yes, and I can’t even imagine what you went through, but you decided to write me off without even talking to me.” She kicked off her boots. “Without an explanation. Without even saying goodbye.” She peeled her panties and leggings down over her hips and kicked them off. Her skin had pinkened where the cleaner had soaked through.
She wasn’t worried about flashing anyone. His windows were so dark, an onlooker would literally have to press their face to the glass to see inside. It was dark and cool and safe.
He got into the truck and closed the door, forcing her to scoot over. But he had crap everywhere. A medical kit. A crossbow. Books, file folders, and a laptop. She shifted some of the items onto the floorboard as he grabbed the duffle bag, looking for another shirt since the cleaner had soaked through his shirt, too.
“You decided not to tell me anything. You were just…gone.”
“It was best for everyone.”
She turned on him, furious. “No, Quentin. It was best for