“I love you,” Branden says, his expression softening. “But sometimes it feels as though you don’t love me. As though you don’t respect me. Hannah?”
I’m on my feet without realizing it, scrambling from the booth. “I…I have to go to the bathroom,” I stammer, racing to explain my own actions, but deep down, I’m just as puzzled as he seems to be.
What am I doing?
Not suppressing. Not relying on instinct. I’m not enduring—I’m running.
“Hannah?” He sits forward as I snatch my bag. “Do you need your purse to go to the bathroom?”
“I…I’m on my period. I’ll be back.” My heart pounds as I weave my way through the aisles too quickly for him to follow. The bathroom is at the back of the restaurant, but I seem to be heading in the wrong direction. Toward the front, past the hostess stand…
Out.
My speed picks up as I meld into a crowd of giggling partiers crossing the street. I can’t stop. Panting, I keep going, scurrying from block to block until my neighborhood is entirely in the distance.
Chapter Twelve
I don’t know where I’m headed—or maybe I do, but I just don’t want to admit it to myself as pieces of the city pass by in a blur. Bright lights. Featureless faces. A million different sights, smells, and sounds that barely register until I finally reach a building framed by the taunting visage of a dragon.
The main glass door opens easily when I pull on the handle, but the lights are dimmed inside, and the showroom is deserted. But he’s here—I can smell him. Blindly, I stumble forward, through a darkened hallway and eventually reach a cavernous space illuminated by a single, harsh circle of light.
He stands hunched over a table strewn with loose sheets of paper. His shirt is off, and the artificial light above plays over the bare muscle sculpting his back, giving definition to the dragon. It coils with motion, breathing fire in my presence while he works. I come closer before I can stop myself, spying the work in progress from over his shoulder. My breathing hitches—this drawing is different than the others adorning his walls.
Thinner lines and lighter shapes form a far different creature from his raging dragons. The sketching itself seems hesitant as if he loathes himself for every mark, but he can’t help it. He draws her regardless. A girl with long dark hair and wild bangs; her guarded eyes wide but dark. Her gaze contains a million secrets locked within, seemingly impenetrable to anything or anyone…
Until her creator goes rigid, slashing an involuntary line through her face.
“What are you doing here, rabbit?” he wonders without bothering to turn around, demanding an answer to a question that I don’t even have the nerve to ask myself. He drops the pen, and his fist forms a barrier over the face he’s sketched, marring the details. “Answer the question.”
But I can’t. Maybe I’m just a masochist? Or I’m just spiraling because of one glaring fact that dashes what little harmony I’ve found. Branden wants me to move back. In theory, my brother’s house represents everything safe that I’ve stubbornly left behind, and this space dominated by this irritating man has fucked up what little freedom I’ve strived to find for myself.
Because every time I imagine going back, I hear his voice. You’ve seen a much worse monster. I want to meet that monster. I want to know what makes a little rabbit like you so damn hard she doesn’t flinch when a man presses a knife to her throat.
“You ruined my life,” I shout, arguing against the incorporeal Rafe more than the real thing. I don’t even recognize the voice echoing off the walls. Hannah Dewitt doesn’t sound like this stranger—so bitterly angry. So insane. “You goddamn, selfish asshole!”
“I’m only going to say this once, bunny.” He cocks his head back to face me, letting his fearsome expression drill in the threat. “Get the fuck out.” His hair obscures most of his face, but those eyes lurk behind the jagged strands like predators hunting from the shadows. Only this time, I’m not sure whether or not I’m the prey.
“You ruined my life.” I’m on autopilot. A broken record forced to bleat the same damn thing to anyone who will listen. “Everything is all wrong because of you!”
“Good. Because you hated living it anyway, little rabbit. Coming here… You must be fucking suicidal. What? Your boyfriend couldn’t get you off? I don’t think I’ll give you the satisfaction this