Page 8 of Semi-Reckless

She snorted. “No shit.”

“So, now what?”

“Well, Mrs. Vassel was right about one thing, and that’s the werewolf activity in the area. There’s a little junior pack forming about ten miles from here. I’m going to talk to them.”

The look he gave her labeled her the dumbest creature on the planet. “Your plan is to walk into a wolf den—a junior one, at that—alone?”

That was insulting. Junior wolf packs were alpha-less and generally kind of unpredictable, but Haven could handle herself. “I would’ve gone in alone, but you’re here,” she reminded him. “If I’d sent someone out from the call center, I only would’ve sent two hunters. How is this any different?”

He turned in his seat to face her fully. “The difference is that you’re not a hunter and I’m not your partner. I don’t even work at Section 8 anymore. Look, I indulged you this far, but it’s time to turn this over to the actual hunters.”

Haven took those words like a blow. “You bastard. How dare you.”

Roan pulled back, brows raised. “What?”

“You indulged me,” she seethed. “Oh, please. Why do you think I have to sneak around and steal cases from the fucking call center like a lame ass loser when I used to be a high-ranking, actual hunter, huh? It’s because of you. I got hurt and you ran away. If you were there to stand up for me, to tell my parents that I didn’t get hurt because I did something wrong, they’d still believe that I’m a capable hunter. But because you fled the scene of the crime like a fucking thief in the night, I’m stuck on never-ending desk duty. This is your fault.”

She had no idea why he looked like he was in pain. He’d instigated this whole mess by abandoning her. “You didn’t get hurt,” he said quietly, his voice breaking on the word hurt. “You died, Haven. You had no heartbeat, and you stopped breathing for two minutes. I watched you die. And even now that you’re back, you have no respect for your life. You’re as reckless as ever.”

Haven was practically vibrating in her seat. That’s how angry she was. “I was good at my job, Roan. I helped people. It’s not reckless to want to help people!”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit. There are a million safer ways for you to help people. Being so cavalier about your safety isn’t normal.”

Haven shook her head, absolutely astounded by his pigheadedness. “Jesus, man, I’m a dhampyre who can read auras and share psychic visions through touch. My father and aunt? Also dhampyres. My best friend is a Nephilim, my sweet sixteen party was held at the Vampire Council headquarters, my sister got married in a hell dimension, a wererat halfer taught me to shoot pool when I was seven, and my mother, another psychic, is in charge of a nationwide operation to hunt demons and police all other paranormal activity. What part of any of that is normal? What type of job other than hunter fits someone like me?”

“At least if you had a normal job , I wouldn’t have to constantly pull you out of danger.”

“The job isn’t really the point. Why? Because life is dangerous! Besides, it’s not your job to protect me, Roan. It never was. You were my team leader, and you were my friend.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You made it clear you don’t want to be either of those things anymore. So, I’m going to talk to the werewolves. Are you going with me, or are you abandoning me—again?”

He flinched. “You’re not going alone.”

“Great.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second. “Great.”

She’d never wanted to kiss someone, then punch him in the mouth more than she wanted to kiss Roan in that moment. Then punch him in the mouth. He looked like he might want to kiss her, too…then shove her out of the car. She tossed her hair back and started the car. “And when we get there, remember you’re not in charge. Not anymore. This is my investigation.”

“Fine. We’ll play this your way, Haven.”

Why did she feel like he didn’t really mean that? She suddenly felt like she’d aged a decade since this conversation began. “This has to stop, Roan. The disappearing act was bad enough. But I swear, the stalking and popping back into my life to rescue me from imaginary threats is just cruel. Every time you show up acting like my personal savior, it gives me hope that we’ll get back on track, that you’ll be part of my life again. So, when you inevitably abandon me, it breaks my heart all over again.”

She hated that her voice broke on that last bit of her sentence. She’d sounded so strong and confident before that.

In her mind, this was going to be a turning point for them. He’d realize that it was time to come back to her for good, even if he didn’t come back to work at Section 8. And after a while, she’d admit she’d always loved him and they’d have a lovely friends-to-lovers arc, just like the characters in all her favorite romance novels and that old movie with Eric Stolz and Lea Thompson and the gorgeous drummer girl. It would all be perfect.

“You’re right.”

Her heart rate sped up. He’d just uttered her favorite words in the English language. You’re right. They were like a symphony to her ears. This was it! He was finally going to?—

“When this case is over, I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”

His words, uttered in the most strained, raw voice she’d ever heard, hit her like a fucking arrow straight through the heart.

But in the wake of the pain, came an emotion that was much easier to deal with. Something that was much less likely to make her cry and embarrass herself.

Rage. Fiery, red-hot, unadulterated rage.

Fuck this, fuck that, and fuck you, Roan Malek!

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