Page 108 of Traitor

I clench my jaw, my grip tightening around my mug. I need to book a session with Dr. Monroe. I really do.

Because if I don't, I might start listening to that voice again.

It's late when Michael walks me to my door. The night air is crisp, the kind that should clear my head, but all I feel is irritation creeping up my spine. The date was... awkward. He's cute enough, and he tried. I tried. But some things just don't fucking click, and this? This was dead on arrival.

I sigh as we stop at my door. Time to end this.

"Look, Mike, tonight was okay, but there just wasn't anything there, you know? Maybe—"

Before I can finish, he kisses me.

No warning. No hesitation. Just takes.

His front teeth slam into mine, and in my surprised gasp, his tongue shoves past my lips.

What. The. Fuck.

It takes me half a second to process the absolute audacity, and then? I don't shove. I don't slap.

I grip his fucking balls. Hard.

Hard enough that he might never have kids.

He freezes. Stiffens like I just turned him into a goddamn statue. His lips rip away from mine, a strangled noise spilling from his throat.

I lean in, my voice a razor's edge.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Did I give you permission to kiss me? Did I ask for it?"

"I...I...I was just shooting my shot," he stammers, voice wrecked with pain. Dumbass.

I twist. Just a little. Enough to make his knees buckle.

"There was no shot for you to shoot, jerkface. Don't ever contact me again. I'll find someone else to handle my car. Forget my name, my face, everything. Or else? You'll fucking regret it."

I let go.

He stumbles back, nodding frantically, face drained of color. Not a single word. Just turns, hurries to his truck like a kicked dog.

I roll my shoulders and exhale, shaking off the grime of the night. This. This right here is why an arrangement like I have with Griffin is the better option.

Dating sucks.

Bones

I've been standing in the shadows for a week now, lurking just down the road from her home, since the moment I could ride again. Not to see her. Not to approach. Just to breathe in the same air. Just to remind myself that she's here. That she still exists in my world.

I know she's not ready to see me.

And I'm not ready either.

I need to fully recover, at least physically, before I go to war again. I need my mind clearer. Sharper. But tonight? Tonight is different.

I know she went on a date.

I saw that fucker pick her up. Followed them to the only restaurant in town. And then I followed them back.

From the window, I watched her smile awkwardly, forced, at whatever dumb shit he was saying. She wasn't enjoying herself, which kind of appeased the beast inside me. It's shitty, I know. But it is what it is. I still know her every laugh, her every expression and I'm certain that fucker has no chance with her after tonight. He bombed it.

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