Page 54 of Marked

I look up and see him walking into my kitchen, dressed in his slacks. His wide chest is still on full display, letting me admire the toned, bronze skin. “I’m thinking about Taylor.” I admit, tearing my eyes from him so I’m not distracted by his body again.

“We’ll find her,” he states confidently before turning to the fridge. He pulls out a jug of juice and turns back to me with a lifted brow. “Apple juice?”

I cross my arms defiantly. “Problem?”

“Are you a small child? Do you know how much sugar is in this?” He asks, a tilt of a laugh on his words.

“Yes, and?” I say, trying to keep my own lips from twisting into a guilty smile. “I like my sweets!”

He sets the jug down on the counter and shakes his head. “You’re not a hellhound, you’re a sugar hound.”

I can’t help it; I laugh. “Wait until you see my candy stash above the sink.”

Jack does just that, opening the cupboard that holds my two greatest weaknesses: sour candy and alcohol. “Gods Valkyrie!”

I laugh again, covering my mouth to try and stifle it at the disbelief at his tone. “I can’t help it!”

“Wait, what is this?” he asks, his tone losing its humor.

Clearly, he disapproves of the seven different liquor bottles I have stashed in the cupboard. A flash of embarrassment heats my cheeks. “You already know I have a problem,” I murmur. It occurs to me that saying this to him is the first time I’ve probably admitted out loud that I may have a drinking problem.

“No. What is this?” His voice is deeper now with an edge of ice.

I stand from the couch and walk over to him. I can see him from the living room but not what he’s looking at. I make my way to him but keep a couple feet away as his aura pulses. Smoothing down the hackles his energy rose, I look at my guilty pleasure cupboard. “What’s what?”

He gestures at the items, but at my confused expression, he grabs the copper chalice Seth left behind and all but shakes it at me. “This!”

I blink at the vehemence of his tone and cross my arms over my chest, trying to hide the apprehension I feel. “Calm down, Jack.”

A growl escapes his throat, and his lip lifts with a baring of teeth. He’s never looked more canine than in that moment. Is he also a hellhound then? “Answer the question!”

Defiance rises in me as he suddenly reminds me of Seth and his outburst. “Keep fucking yelling at me like that, and I won’t say shit.” His nostrils flare and his pupils dilate, but I go on. “So, you’ll go off on anyone who disrespects me, but you’re allowed to do so? I think the fuck not.”

He jerks like I slapped him. “No, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t you? Your aura is still pressing on mine, trying to push me into submission. I give you control in the bedroom, but that’s where it ends.”

His power instantly shrinks back, but the hair on the back of my neck is still standing. He runs his hand through his hair and lets it fall to the back of his neck, gripping it tightly. “I’m sorry.”

I rub my arms and look away from him. “Maybe you should go.”

“Don’t push me away again,” he says, voice soft. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, but you don’t understand. This is important.”

My brow furrows with irritation. “It’s just a fucking cup!”

“No,” he stresses. “It’s not. Please, just answer the question.”

I don’t want to talk about Seth. And I really don’t want to give in and answer his question after he shouted at me. It feels a little childish, but I don’t want him to think he can get away with talking to me like that. “Push the topic and leave or drop it and stay the night with me.”

Jack hesitates, and that’s all the answer I need.

My arms drop to my sides, and my face falls into a neutral expression. “It’s from Seth. He left it here the night I ended things between us. The wine he made is in there too if you want to question that as well. Why don’t you take both on your way out?”

“Valkyrie—”

I cut him off. “I’ll see you at work on Monday, Detective Khoury.” I turn and walk away from him, just like I did at the crime scene. Was that really just this morning? Fuck, it feels like days ago.

I feel his eyes on me as I walk to the living room and retrieve my phone. They continue to follow me down the hall to my bedroom until I shut the door behind me, blocking his view. I press my back to the door and hold my breath as I hear him shuffling around my small apartment. I can sense him near my door, so I close my eyes tightly and hold my breath, not sure I’ll have the willpower to send him away a second time.

Turns out I won’t need to.

With an audible sigh, he retreats from my bedroom door. After a few moments I hear my front door open and click shut. I wait a few more seconds, just to make sure he’s really gone before letting out a groan and pushing away from the door. I make my way to the side of my bed and sit down, barely feeling the mattress dip as my head reels with what just happened.

I was wrong, this isn’t like the crime scene at all. My lashing out at him had stemmed from my stress and anxiety, this time it came from hurt. He made such a big deal about others respecting me but then acted like a total fucking alphahole. Not just that, but I had just got done spilling my bleeding heart to him.

Yanking open the drawer of my nightstand, I pull out the bottle of whiskey and frown at the small amount left. After unscrewing the cap, I flick it off and let it soar across the room without another thought. Crawling up closer to my pillows, I lean back against the headboard and lift the bottle to my lips. I take a hearty gulp and remind myself that this is exactly why it’s so much better when I don’t let people get close to me.

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