Page 3 of Sigma
As Linc drives off, I’m turning the key to my trailer, a bag of groceries in my free hand. And as soon as I set foot inside, my jaw goes slack, my spine goes straight, and fuck… my dick has gone hard. The bag lands, glass breaking as I haul my phone out of my pocket and call him.
“Yeah?” he answers.
“Three guesses whose scent is in the fuckin’ trailer!”
I’m outside. Ten feet back. I moved out of there so fast I don’t even recall it.
There’s a half-second of silence before he groans and says, “Cicely’s been quizzing me. She must’ve picked the lock.”
Picked the lock?
My vision blurs.
“Jared?” Linc calls out.
She picked the lock?
I blink away the blur. No, it’s not working. I’m hanging on by a thread. I still smell her. I smell her and I… I…
Cold shunts up my spine.
Fuck!
“Better lock me down...”
“Shit,” he replies.
“Hurry.”
***
The Next Day
“This is a problem,” Linc tells me through gritted teeth while unlocking the irons holding my arms.
He’s got the stun gun in his waistband. I’m not surprised after what happened the last time he was about to remove these irons.
“I know,” I say.
My wrists are free. Free and worse than chafed. They’re black and blue. So are my legs. I feel the bruising around my neck and my gut, too. Evidence of yet another night I have no memory of.
After a minute of loaded silence where I know he’s waiting to see if it’s safe to hand me the keys, he sets a sports drink down beside me and hands them over. I down the entire bottle before I unlock and undo the irons around my waist, neck and legs. I hang the key on the hook.
Lincoln’s brows are knit together.
I had him stun, tase, then hogtie me to get me here and he got it done but just barely before I had to give over to the urge to shift. It was beyond an urge. It was that icy-hot inky darkness spilling in until it flooded everything.
“Never thought I’d have that scent in my space like that,” I mutter, my throat raw.
“I shouldn’t have parked it outside her place,” he says with remorse.
I scoff but resist verbalizing my thoughts. No use. I knew the risks. I don’t want to know where she lives or ask why the fuck he parked it there.
“There’s a parking lot there,” Linc explains.
“Stop. I don’t want to know.”
I can’t know.
