Page 62 of Nemesis

I scream.

Shit. Fuck.

I’m not a screamer, but?—

Reese steps out of the shadows by the window. He blended in over there. I wouldn’t have even glanced in that direction, bypassing the living room to find alcohol in the dark and then retreating to bed.

He switches on a lamp.

His blond hair looks slightly damp, the strands darker than the last time I saw him. He runs his fingers through it, dragging the longer top pieces back. They flop right back into his eyes, and I hate that it gives him a devil-may-care appearance.

“Reese.” It comes out hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

What is it with guys these days?

“You could’ve called,” I point out. “Does no one here have a phone anymore?”

I throw my hands up and change direction for the kitchen. With him showing up, Idefinitelyneed a drink.

Reese’s gaze is on my back as I rifle through the cabinets without luck. Halfway through the second one, it occurs to me that Saint is 1) an asshole and 2) tall. So he probably shoved it in the back corner of the top shelf, out of my line of sight.

I climb up onto the counter, knocking travel mugs out of the way. I spot the red wax of a whiskey bottle, stretch, wiggle my fingers, and finally grasp it.

The next thing I know, I’m back with my feet on the floor and Reese taking the bottle from me.

Close.

He’s so close.

I catch his scent, cedar and smoke. The good kind, like a campfire.

Even so, I sidle away to put some distance between us. If I could get a damn minute to breathe, maybe I could figure out what I want to do. Or how I feel. But right now, everything is jumbled and I’m confused and I think I’m on the verge of a panic attack.

Yep.

A weight presses down on my chest. I struggle to keep my breathing even, but my muscles tighten so much it’s impossible to draw in more air. I stumble back farther, gripping the counter, and the room tilts.

I close my eyes, then open them again just as fast.

Reese’s back is to me. He doesn’t notice my struggle as I inch around the island and put more distance between us. I can’t tell if I want him to leave or tell me what he wants or hurry up and pass that bottle over.

When he faces me, his brows pinch together. “Jesus, Artemis. Sit down.”

I… I don’t think I can. I don’t want to follow his orders.

Between him sneaking in here—sneaking or breaking?—and Kade waking me up in my Bow & Arrow apartment, and Saint living here while hating me…

I can’t get a grip.

I can’t catch a fuckingbreak.

“Okay, okay.” Reese pulls at my wrists, carefully untangling my hair from my fingers.

I hadn’t realized I had done that, but my scalp aches. He keeps ahold of my wrists and directs me backward, until my calves hit the couch and my knees automatically bend. He lowers himself in front of me.

His gaze locks on the red marks on my neck. “Who gave you those?”

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