Page 67 of Tortured Soul
“I swore not to touch you inappropriately. Nothing inappropriate here, and since you won’t listen to your reason…”
Everyone stared as we crossed the main hall. Some eyes were envious. Most faces were curious. All mouths were gaping.
“People will be talking,” I muttered as he walked down the stairs of the entrance.
“Let them. You might not want to acknowledge it, but you’re my mate, and everyone already knows.”
Oh, I acknowledged it alright. I just didn’t know until a few hours ago…
And it looked like Carrie didn’t tell him about my missing soul and the whole reason why he might have thought I was just ignoring our mating link…
Chapter 21
Lola
Istopped fighting halfway between the City Hall and Arc’s house. It was pointless anyway as he didn’t seem to care that I was punching at his back relentlessly, and Dimitri wasn’t inclined to help me.
That fucker was obviously taking sides already.
However, my old lover was reluctant to leave my side when Arc showed him to his room while I was still hanging off his shoulder.
I was intrigued about why Arc lived in a place with so many free rooms when people had made it clear that it was difficult to fit everyone (in particular, binded groups that had to share really small spaces). I’d counted at least four rooms other than the one Arc was occupying. Carter seemed to be living in one of them as I was assaulted with his scent when we passed a corridor. Where was he now? I had no clue, but was glad he was away.
“Could you let me down already?”
Arc ignored me and kept walking at a steady pace. So I did what I did best; I kept talking until he’d eventually crack.
“I mean, I’m in your house, there really is no point to escape now.Plus, my friend’s here too. I wouldn’t dare abandon him with you, who knows what you might get up to, since you already seem on the same page about being asses and annoying the hell out of me. Where’s Carter, by the way? Still mad about our little tumble in the archives? Youhaveto admit, his apology was worth shit. He lives here, right? Did he move out because you brought me here? I do have some kind of memory about—ah!”
After a short fall, my back met the soft satiny sheets of his bed.
“I’m curious,” he said, leaning over me, his arms supporting his large body and making the mattress dip under our weight. “Are you pissing people off on purpose or is it an innate talent of yours?”
I scoffed, giving a dramatic eye roll. “I might have been the first to strike, but Carter deserved it.”
“I never said he didn’t. He’s a jerk, and he got what was coming for him. I’m asking aboutyoupushing everyone's buttons everytime and howeveryargument seems to be escalating when you’re around.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to put more distance between us. Lying on my back onhisbed while he was hovering above me, caging me between his strong body and the mattress made me feel strangely vulnerable.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Imean, that you keep riling people up. Why?”
“I don’t do that.”
“Youdo.”
My jaw clenched. His eyes drifted to the quick motion. Why did this guy seeeverything?
“You’re a brat,” he said, noticing I decided to stay quiet, pushing up to stand back up.
My lungs filled in a deep inhale, like his proximity was making me hold my breath.
Was it? Did I, subconsciously, hold my breath everytime he stood too close to me? I blamed that damn cinnamon and whatever it meant.
He turned to face a dresser, opening a drawer to pick up a T-shirt.
“Put this on; you’ll be more comfortable to sleep.”
