Page 12 of Werewolf Heart

“Is it? You think I forgot when you threw me across a wall?”

Robert grinds his teeth. He can feel the other side of him—the beast, the wolf—scratching at the front door. It wants to tear Tom apart. Limb by limb. Rip off his arms and legs and offer Sara his head.

The young man breathes in, clutches his thigh. He needs to get his emotions under control.

“That happened one time,” Tom huffs. “And I didn’t throw you that hard. Jesus. You’re making me sound like one of those wife beaters.”

“Oh, you are,” Sara says, the dread bouncing off her as the courage rises. “If I stayed, things would have escalated, and you know it.”

“I don’t remember you being this rude,” he snaps. “What the fuck happened, Sara? Caught new dick and discovered your wild side, did you?”

Robert gets up, stands tall with rage bubbling under his fingertips. He’s across Tom in a second, who takes a step back.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” he says, voice tight. “Go back to your mates and stay the fuck away from us.”

He can smell the fear growing inside Tom’s chest.

“What, you gonna pick a fight in the middle of a pub?” Tom snarls. “Fucking hell, Sara. You sure know how to pick them.”

“Keep pushing.” Robert taps his chest with the lightest of touches. “See what happens.”

He sees Tom swallow something dry. The prick takes another step back, chest heaving.

Robert can feel his rage itching to get out, break something—throw this asshole to the ground. A voice cuts through.

“Rob, sit,” Sara says. “Tom, just leave.”

“Jesus, fine.” The prick tries to laugh it off, but Robert smells the panic. “Have fun handling all of that. You two deserve each other.”

“Goodbye, Tom!” Sara says, quite chirpy, and sends him the finger.

“Don’t come back,” Robert says instead.

He sits back down, breathes in and out as he steadies his anger. It feels like someone’s clutched his heart in their hands and only just now has he found relief.

“You okay, Rob?” And she sounds so worried. For him. He feels like an ass.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I know how to deal with Tom.” She holds his hand, and his body settles in the comfort of her touch. “He knows how to push people’s buttons.”

“I really wanted to hurt him,” he admits in one breath. Robert shies away, ashamed.

“Hey,” she squeezes his hand. He gazes back at her. “I wanted to hurt him, too. It’s okay.”

He nods again and again. It doesn’t feel okay.

“Let’s go home,” she says.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s about to rain anyway.”

Roberts nods one more time. “Okay.”

They pay what they owe, get on the tube, and reach their flat just as heavy rain starts to pour. Sara is soaked to death—but her sweet smell lingers under her wet clothes, which does calm him—she’s the first to take a shower, while Robert sulks in his bedroom. He’s so goddamn tired.

He closes his eyes. Blinks. It’s now 8:45 a.m.

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