Page 7 of You Belong With Me

I widen my stance and tilt my head to the side, looking at her. “Forgot my key.”

Her eyes dart to the balcony door that’s to her right. It’s wide open, and I imagine she’s having thoughts about lunging for it. I hope she does. She won’t get away, but chasing her down and punishing her would be fun.

“Why are you here?” she asks, tripping over the words. She looks nervous, which is good. She should be.

My critical gaze rakes over her. She’s still wearing the dress she wore last night, her blond, wavy hair is a mess of tangles around her shoulders, and her eyes are red—like she just woke up.

Shutting the broken door, I step deeper into her studio. “You’re my consort,” I say, staring at the place on her chestwhere my pendant should be. It’s not there. “Where else would I be?”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “Now isn’t a good time.”

Is she fucking joking?

“Sorry,” I say, barely keeping a tether on my anger. “Next time I’ll be sure to clear my visit with your social secretary.”

Her eyes dart away again, and I step forward to grab her face, forcing her to look at me. I bring my head down, so we’re nose to nose. “This shit you’re doing has got to fucking stop, Wyn. You’re my consort. Mine. That means you belong to me.”

She glares at me. “I never agreed to that.”

I shove her face and take a step back, laughing. “In what world does that fucking matter?”

“Mine,” she says in that cutting tone that gets under my skin.

With a shake of my head, I walk over to her closet and wrench the door open. There’s a large pink duffel bag shoved into the corner behind a pile of shoes. I pull it out and start tearing random things off the hangars and shoving them into the bag. Then I move over to her dresser and grab a fistful of her underwear, stuffing those into the bag, too.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I glance over my shoulder at her. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing your shit because you’re moving into Rush House with me.”

“Why?” I can hear the exasperation in her voice.

I turn around to face her, my eyes narrowing. “What do you mean,why? I already told you why.”

She shakes her head, and I could be imagining it, but it looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “Lucas, there’s something you need to know…”

Fucking chicks, dude. They always want totalkabout shit. But me, I’d rather do the thing now and talk about it never. That’s my vibe. That’s how I roll.

I continue packing random pieces of clothing from her drawers and then I notice a couple of vitamin bottles on top of her dresser, and I take those, too. “Whatever it is, you can tell me in the car.”

I need to get her back to Rush House and back into my fucking bed—where she belongs. My blood is buzzing with the need to touch her. And after what she pulled last night, I’m desperate to fuck her, punish her…rip her to shreds.

“No, Lucas,” she says. “It’s important. And…I don’t know exactly how to say it.”

I pause and turn around again to look at her. She’s still on the bed, raised up onto her knees, and those wide moss-green eyes are pleading with me. It’s fucked up, but I can already feel my iron resolve melting.

Goddamn.I can’t allow this.

Grabbing the duffel bag, I turn toward the bathroom. Chicks require tons of toiletries, don’t they? Creams and oils and shit. I take a step toward the open door when Wyn’s voice rings out from behind me. “Lucas,wait!”

With a sigh, I turn back around and glare at her. “What?”

But she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at something over my shoulder, her eyes wide. I sense a presence behind me in the bathroom doorway. A presence that wasn't there three seconds ago.

Dropping the bag, I ball my hands into fists, and turn slowly to see who or what has caught Wyn’s attention…

As I turn back around, time slows down, and my breathing becomes heavy. There, in the doorway, is a face I never thought I’d see again. I blink, confused. My brain just doesn’t compute.

Gabriel is leaning against the doorway, looking very much alive. “Hey.”

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