Moon Claimed (Werewolf Dens #2) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,54
I didn’t like to be said goodbye to. Neither of us got in too deep. We specifically chose men that would allow us to get what we needed without posing a threat. Looking back, I could say that I chose Logan for his body. But if I was honest, I chose him because he annoyed me outside the bedroom.
Nothing would have ever come of it.
Shit. I really did do that.
Rhona leaned back, and I caught sight of her reading material. “You’re reading Mum’s journal.”
“Is there a problem with that?”
She was angry with me, that much was clear from her flat tones.
Why?
She was reading I’m 18. “Not at all. Maybe you’ll find something in them that I didn’t. I’m finishing up with the last one.”
I had to break the news about Murphy to her soon—before she got her hands on I’m 19 and discovered what he became. It wasn’t ideal for her to get a look at the symptoms of a werewolf transformation though… maybe I’d remove some pages to protect myself.
“If you want the first six journals, let me know. They’re out at the cabin.”
“The cabin,” she echoed in a strange voice.
I crouched and tried to peer at her face. She rarely wore her hair down, and the long curtain hid her face. “Seriously, Rhona, what’s up? I thought we sorted out the Sascha thing.”
She finally met my gaze. “So did I.”
Her scent was bouncing all over the place. Her words weren’t false, that’s all I could glean. Other than that, I’d guess that she wasn’t sure what to feel. “You need to help me out here. I have no idea what you’re upset about.”
“I felt bad for going to Heather after our chat this morning,” she said, hardly blinking. “I sent her out of the security room and felt like a piece of shit for looking over the footage. Like doing that was a betrayal to you.”
Shit.
Rhona knew what I was.
I said nothing, unwilling to condemn myself.
“You said Sascha Greyson turned up this morning. That you’d cleaned for hours last night and fell asleep naked.” She laughed, shaking her head. “What a joke. You left your cabin in your car just before seven.”
Leaning forward, she extracted her phone and unlocked it to reveal a picture. Of me in Ella F. Dated and with a time.
Not that I didn’t already know she was right.
But what else did she know?
“You returned at one in the morning,” she continued, “And you weren’t alone.”
The next picture was of the back of the car. The person driving wasn’t visible, but there was clearly a large person driving and a smaller person in the passenger seat.
Fuck.
I stared into accusing emerald eyes. “What are you asking me, Rhona?”
“I’m not asking you anything. Not anymore. I can see how adept you are at wiggling out of tight spots. You spent the night with the Luther that killed my father. All night. You drove to see him, and he returned with you.”
It spoke volumes of my life that I was just relieved she hadn’t uncovered the biggest secret of all.
“It’s not what you think.” I stood. “I went to the lake for some alone time. While I was there, the same wolf who attacked me in Water came—”
“Where are the signs?” She scanned my body. “Attacked by a Luther again, and not a scratch on you. How lucky.”
“It is, actually.” I should be covered in scratches and bruises after my first shift. I assumed an accelerated healing ability was to thank.
Rhona rose, too, managing to stare me down though we were the same height. “I returned to the manor entry point after the game. Pascal was there. She said you’d gone into the grid.”
“I believed you were in trouble because you weren’t answering my orders.” Lie. I shook my head. “Are you telling me that you weren’t answering on purpose? You know better than to let your personal issues affect the game.”
“I was fulfilling your orders, Head Steward,” she said sarcastically. “I just didn’t feel like speaking with a traitor. Nothing comes between me, my stewards, and the game. Nothing.”
“So much anger, Rhona,” I said quietly. “We’ve been through so much already. Please don’t let this confusion tear us apart.”
“I’m not coming between us.” The unnatural flatness she’d maintained split apart with shocking suddenness. My breath hitched in my throat.
“I trust what I feel,” she shouted. “You’re trying to convince me nothing’s the matter. You’re trying to make me feel stupid and irrational.”