of my feet, I spin around and stalk further into the woods to put much needed space between us.
“What the hell, Jet?” he shouts at my back.
I don’t answer. I just keep stomping forward, slapping branches away from my face left and right, fuming at myself. Hating myself.
How could I do that? How could I be so weak as to kiss another male? I mean, I just grinded against him, like I was about to fuck him right there against the tree. Who the fuck am I?
“Hey.”
Jericho’s hand comes up to grasp my arm, and I fucking lose it. My anger cracks like a shell, and all of my sharp pieces shatter at my feet.
I spin, my fist going straight for his face. He somehow manages to dodge it, but he’s not fast enough to avoid my kick.
My heel lands on his kneecap, and he nearly buckles. The sound of his pained grunt doesn’t even make it to my ears, because I’m so stuck in sudden, eruptive rage that it’s transported me out of the woods. Instead, I’m in a fight for a show, and my vision goes red as I wail on him like a female possessed by hell.
And he lets me.
Even for a shifter with superior senses, it’s difficult to track my movements. Jericho is no slouch in the fighting department, but he’s no use against me, and he’s not trying to counter attack. He’s just trying to stay standing.
I punch. I kick. I spin and twist and scratch and yank and bite. I scream and hiss like a monster unleashed.
He tries to block and dodge me, but he never fights back. Not once does he try to make a move to hit me, and his evasion tactics aren’t enough to defend himself. I’m too fast. Too skilled. So he goes down.
Hard.
I feel his knees hit the grassy ground. The vibration of it travels up the sole of my feet and anchors my legs.
With a grunt, back bowed forward, he stays on hands and knees as he pants, and the sight of him brought down makes me snap out of my blinding furor.
The redness of my vision slowly recedes until the pale sunlight rules once more. My skin prickles with the realization of what I just did, and I stare in horror at the male in front of me.
“Holy shit.”
I rush forward, but I don’t dare touch him. He’ll lash out, or worse, flinch away from me. And that would pain me in ways I can’t explain.
So instead, my hands hesitate around his body, as my mind catches up, cataloguing all the hits I landed on him and how much damage I might’ve done.
“Jericho…”
My voice chokes off as my throat works, emotions flooding my system and overloading me as I fall down to my knees.
“I didn’t mean...fuck!” With my legs tucked under me, I sit back on my calves and run a hand down my face. “I don’t know what came over me. I just snapped, I’m sorry.”
Usually, apologizing to anyone would be like pulling teeth, but the words break out of me without restraint, because I’m the shittiest fucking person on the planet and guilt rules me.
Jericho moves, plopping back on his ass with a grunt as he tentatively moves his arms and neck, grimacing slightly as he does. When I see that his eye is swollen, I feel so horrible that I want to punch myself in the face.
“I’m such a dick,” I mutter, shaking my head at myself.
To my amazement, Jericho chuckles and squints across at me. “You’re not a dick, Jet Plane,” he says quietly. “But Officer Mac was right. You do have a mean right hook.”
I blink at him, dumbfounded. “I just beat the shit out of you, and you’re joking with me?” I can’t be hearing this right.
He smiles, which probably makes the split in his lip hurt like a bitch, but it doesn’t stop him. “My fault. I shouldn’t have said that about your boyfriend. And I shouldn’t have kissed you. Clearly, you weren’t ready.”
I sit back and wrap my arms around my legs. “I was ready. That’s the problem,” I admit quietly. “But when you said Cliff’s name, I just got so mad…”
“I know,” he replies, losing all traces of amusement. His dark brown eyes look at me without an ounce of anger. “It was shitty of me. I know you two have a history. You love him.”
I hear Jericho’s underlying question in his words, his curiosity about where that