Page 82 of Demons

A blonde I’d seen here before stepped out of the entrance before we made it there. Her dark blue crop top and tiny skirt, which might also just be a crop top, caused me to slow. I didn’t want to see him with someone like her. The kind that he normally had around him. She was a great big reminder of all I didn’t have. Starting with her boobs and ending with her legs that went on for days.

“Hey, Thatch,” she drawled in a syrupy-sweet voice that made me want to vomit.

He said nothing as he continued hauling me with him, as if he couldn’t get me away from the practice track fast enough.

She stepped in front of him and tilted her head to the side, causing her long blonde hair to slide down over her cleavage. “I’ve missed you.”

“Move,” he demanded.

His harsh tone seemed to startle her, and she tensed, then stepped out of his way.

“I don’t work tonight. I thought we’d play.” She tried again to get his attention.

Nothing from Thatcher.

He might be refusing to let me ride Zephyr and currently about to pull my arm out of my socket, but I smiled. I couldn’t help it. She was hard for me not to look at, and I didn’t swing that way. Thatcher ignoring her must be something she wasn’t accustomed to because her face fell. She’d not expected him to not be interested in whatever play she had in mind.

Sebastian stepped out of the office as we came barreling inside the stables. His gaze swung from his brother to me. The immediate concern drew on his face was clear. He thought I was in danger.

“Thatcher,” he called.

He didn’t respond.

“Jesus, at least slow the fuck down! She’s struggling to keep up with you!” he shouted as we turned the corner.

He heard that, apparently, because he stopped, and his eyes bored down on me. There it was. That look. The one where he appeared haunted, torn, remorseful. It took away the edge that seemed to always be in his eyes. The one that kept others back. I wondered if I was the only one to see him this way.

“Was I hurting you?” he asked. His voice hoarse.

I had to answer this carefully. “Not hurting exactly. It was just difficult to keep up. Your legs are much longer than mine.”

His eyes dropped to my legs, and he winced as if the thought pained him. He ran a hand over his head, and I noticed his breathing was hard. What had triggered this? Why was my riding Zephyr suddenly an issue? A couple of weeks ago, he’d had no problem. I’d been the only one other than him to ride his horse. Now, he seemed like the idea was making him literally ill.

He bent down, then slid his arm under my legs and picked me up. What the actual hell was he doing?

“Thatcher!”

This time, he was ignoring me as he headed toward the back entrance of the stables that led out to the parking lot.

Were we leaving?

“That’s, uh, better,” I heard Sebastian call out.

Thatcher’s arms flexed, and I heard him make a deep sound in his chest like a growl.

“Where are we going?” I asked him.

He looked at me, his eyes drifting over my face as if he was trying to memorize it. “Home.”

Home. To his house? Was that home? Because he’d made it real clear I wasn’t going back to mine. I had thought we’d discuss it once we were back here. Talk about things when he wasn’t holding a gun and calmer. We had faced the hurdle of coming back to Madison. Cleared up the search for me and the accusations that he’d been the one to take me.

I had expected him to be less on edge now that was all done. He clearly was not.

We reached his truck, and he jerked open the door and placed me inside, then buckled me in. I could buckle myself, but at the moment, pointing that out seemed useless. He was in his head, and I didn’t think it was a good place most of the time. I wondered how much of that was his mother’s fault. She hadn’t been there today. He was a grown man, but it was still odd to me that she hadn’t come to support him. It was her house that it had all taken place in after all.

Needing to comfort him, I reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead. He paused, and his eyes locked with mine. Smiling at him, I brushed my thumb over his lips, like he often did mine.

His nostrils flared. “I need to get you home.”

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