Page 60 of Touch of Evil

“It’s just crowded there,” I yell for absolutely no reason. “You feel me? Not a lot of room with all the furniture.”

“What furniture?” she asks, looking at me like the imbecile I am.

“The couch and TV and the bed.”

I stop at “bed.”

Like, stop dead at “bed.”

Everything I’m telling her is a total lie. I have a decent-sized place. And with what I make between the pack and the bar, I don’t need a roommate.

Right now, all I need is Emme.

Emme being Emme, does her best to believe me. I mean, why would I, Bren, her friend, lie to her? Still, she’s been to my place plenty of times and can’t understand why I’m telling her what I am.

“Um. Are you worried Danny and Heidi might be there?” she asks.

I can’t keep up with the lies and feel worse that I’m lying to such an honest soul. “No,” I mutter. “He moved in with her a while back.”

She angles her chin to better see me. “Then why don’t you want me to come home with you?”

Because no way in hell will I not try to sleep with you.

“Bren?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

“We almost died tonight,” I bite out.

Instead of easing away, she leans into me, slipping her arm around me and partially covering me with her blanket. “I know,” she says gently.

“And it’s late. You haven’t slept.”

She motions to the rising sun and how it’s working to break through the overcast sky. “Actually, it’s very early.”

It is. Cold and dark for a morning in July, but still early like she says.

The rain drizzles to a stop along the main road. The Hole is only another block away. It comes into view slowly, a lone soldier standing among the silence.

Man. The entire area is deserted, giving it a feel of twilight instead of breaking dawn. In almost every apartment building we pass, the lights are off and there’s no speck of motion. I take a sniff. This isn’t the first time it’s rained. The weather must have kept enough people indoors and away from the danger. Those who hit the clubs are now long tucked in their beds or someone else’s. Except for me and Emme.

Me and Emme.

Here I go yet again.

A car drives by, the opened windows giving me a hint of what’s inside. Instead of taking more of Emme in, I focus on those scents. The driver didn’t bother with a shower when he left his house. He skipped out for the donuts. A dozen fresh and glazed sit in a flimsy cardboard box beside him, a bag of bagels, closer to the dirty carpeted floor. They intermix with an old aroma of spilled beer.

Another truck follows shortly after that, the cabin reeking of rust, gasoline, and lawn clippings. Those two vehicles make the only sound with the exceptions of a few birds that have begun to chirp and Emme’s bare feet lightly slapping against the concrete.

Emme healed enough of her injuries and is trying to match my stride, to walk along with me, to bewith me. I forge ahead, trying to leave her behind. Without me, she’s safe. She won’t get hurt, and I won’t make her cry.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

Nope. Not even a little bit.

Emme is decent. She doesn’t belong with a wolf like me. She doesn’t need the tears I would cause. Nah. Emme deserves better than that.

She gasps, struggling to keep up with me. “Bren,” she says. “Why are you running?”

I’m trying to tire you out, dammit, so you can just crash in Danny’s bed and not,definitely notin mine. “Just stretching my legs, Emme,” I say like a douche. “Come on, it’s good for you.”

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