Page 82 of Pack Fever

“Why do you care? You’ve got Seth and Jasper. It’s no big deal with me,” he blurts out, and his words keep cutting deep.

I blink, stunned, hating how much it stings, hating that I even care what he thinks. And is it me, or does he sound slightly jealous? My eyes burn with angry tears. Why the damn should I worry about what he thinks?

Then his gaze suddenly widens. “Wait, are you going to cry?” He almost sounds like he cares.

“Fuck you!” Fury punches me in the gut. Crying in front of him is the last thing I want. “You’re so dumb,” I retort, my voice cracking with hurt and anger, even if I’m cringing at my childish response to how worked up he’s got me.

“Real nice, Danica,” he states with a hint of something in his voice, as if that pains him. “Maybe stop wasting your time coming into my room to win me over. It’s not going to happen.”

Except the longer I’m standing there, covered just by a pillow, arguing with him, the more I’m burning up. My insides are swirling in a chaotic storm of frustration and anger, of embarrassment. But there’s something else. The undeniable pull to him—my arousal.

In a moment of fury, I snatch his iPad from the floor and hurl it at him. It’s a rash move, driven by manic emotions. It hurts when he pushes me away, and I’m furious with myself that I’m drawn to him.

He swiftly moves out of the way of the iPad, which crashes against the wall with a sickening thud.

“What the fuck!” he barks, a startled shock in his voice. “What was that for?”

He’s watching me now, and I feel his gaze like a physical touch… like he’s stroking me, and I’m about to beg him for more.

I’m shaking, hugging the pillow.

God, I need to get away from him.

“Use your words,” he mocks me, his tone almost coaxing. “If you’ve got something to say, then speak up. Don’t break my stuff.”

“Fine,” I reply, squaring my shoulders and holding his gaze. I’m a mess of emotions, my body pulsing with heat, as though I’m standing directly under the scorching sun. “I get you don’t like me, that you’re grossed out by my scars, but my heat is making me come into your bed, and I can’t control it. We need a plan, so we don’t wake up like this every morning and leave you horrified.” The words tumble past my lips on fast forward.

He just stares at me while I’m standing there, feeling stupid and conflicted. Part of me screams that I should storm out of his room, but another part is curious, wanting to discover what he’ll do and say. But when he says nothing, I take my first step to get out of there until he blocks my path.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Danica. Now be a good girl and give me a sec, okay?” Then he darts out of the room.

What the hell now?

I pace in his room, noting his iPad is shattered on the floor. Well, that was a bit of an overreaction, but I don’t regret a thing. I find one of his t-shirts and I quickly drag it on, feeling slightly less exposed with my scars covered. The fabric falls mid-thigh.

Footsteps sound behind me minutes later. Reed returns, looking surprisingly fresh and wrapped in a towel from his waist down. It’s impossible to miss the sharp angles of his muscles and the heavy ink over his torso and arms.

My attention lingers on the large raven tattoo that sprawls across the left side of his chest. The bird’s wings are outstretched, one of them reaching up toward his shoulder and collarbone. Feathers are shaded to give them depth. Same with the raven’s head, turned forward, eyes—deep and penetrating—staring forward as if ready for anything coming Reed’s way. It’s beautiful.

He suddenly tosses another towel to me. Wow, thoughtful! That’s new for him.

Awkwardness hangs in the air as I wrap the towel around myself, then shimmy the pillow down my body from under the towel. All under his watchful eye. Glancing up at his wandering sight, my stomach drops when his sight settles on my body for a bit too long.

“So, you wanted to set up some plan between us?” he asks, his gravelly voice vibrating through me.

I sharpen my attention on his gaze, now meeting mine.

“Yeah,” I answer with a wobbly voice. We’re standing only two feet apart, and his manly, musky scent lulls me into arousal. It happens so fast, I’m too slow to fight my insides twisting for him. His pupils widen, the corner of his mouth curling upward in an expression that melts my insides. Is he okay, or is he being impacted by our closeness, too? And yet, I’m stunned he hasn’t told me to leave his room yet after seeing my ugly arm.

Being this near to him in the cramped-up bedroom, an inferno is swallowing me.

I sense the traces of my heat returning… it’s been this way since last night with Seth. Me letting him tie me up, bringing me to arousal, fucking and knotting me, ignited something inside me. And it hasn’t tamed down. Clearly. Right now, I’m staring at Reed as though I need to rip his towel off and beg him to put out my flames.

Except that’s me asking for more complications between us, and I don’t want him to break my heart.

So, I step away from him, my sights on the door.

“Being near you isn’t good for either of us.” I rush to get away from him, but before I step a foot outside the small bedroom, he snatches my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. Electricity jolts up my arm from his touch, every nerve ending alight.

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