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“Yes.” He shakes his head. “No. I don’t know.”
“Because I am a maid,” I say, fisting the sheet tighter and lifting my chin.
“I thought I made it clear last night that you are officially retired.” Dimitri shoots me a sideways look, and I feel my cheeks heat at the memory of his hand on my throat.
I swallow. “That’s not your decision to make.”
“I won’t have you scrubbing floors,” he says in a dismissive tone. “It’s beneath you.”
“It’s a living,” I growl.
Dimitri gives a small shake of his head. “They didn’t need to report on it.”
“I’m not ashamed of what I do,” I snap, my neck flushing with hurt and rage. “And if you are, then —”
“I’m not ashamed of you,” Dimitri grits out.
“Really?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and sticking out my chin. “Because it sure seems like you are. That’s why you’re mad about the article, right? Now the whole world knows I’m your maid.”
“What? No.” He thrusts a hand toward his broken laptop, which I’ve set on the edge of the bed. “I’m pissed that the article makes it sound as though I took advantage of you. The way they described our arrangement, it’s . . . fucked up.”
“Really?” I ask. “You’re not just upset that they implied you had to pay your maid to be your date?”
“It’s not about you being my maid!” Dimitri yells — his voice so angry that I take a step back.
His chest is heaving with every breath, and there’s a manic look in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. They’re that molten gold color again, but his face has gone ashen. He’s quivering with the force of his rage, and his muscles look as though they’re straining against his skin.
An involuntary tic makes his chin jerk, and for the first time since I’ve known Dimitri, I’m a little afraid of him.
“You’d better go,” he growls, staring at the floor. His voice comes out low and dangerous, but it only makes me angrier.
“What? No!” He doesn’t get to come crawling home with an apology, make love to me all night, and then dismiss me at the first sign of trouble. We’re in this together — whatever this is.
“Get — out,” he rumbles, his jaw clenching so hard I’m worried he might crack a tooth. “Before I do something I regret.”
Something like remorse breaks in his voice, but I don’t let him off the hook.
“You don’t get to do that,” I shoot back, taking a tentative step toward him. “I’m not your employee anymore, remember? You don’t just get to send me away.”
“I said — get out!” Dimitri bellows, all traces of his earlier tenderness gone.
I open my mouth with a furious retort burning on the tip of my tongue, but when the light falls across Dimitri’s face, I see that something’s really wrong with him. His spine has gone stiff, fists clenched at his sides, and his shoulders are hunched as though bracing for an attack.
I’m unprepared for the agonized growl that rips from his throat — or the sickening crack of joints.
I stare as Dimitri doubles over in pain, his face twisted in concentration.
Panicked, I take another step forward, but then Dimitri’s head snaps up, and I catch a glimpse of long white fangs.
My stomach lurches, and I jerk back, watching in horror as he bends double once again. I can see every bump in his spine straining at the skin on his back. He squeezes his eyes shut as another spasm hits him, and tears blur my vision when I hear the unmistakable crunch of bone.
The pain forces Dimitri to his knees, his whole body undulating in a retching motion as muscles ripple beneath his skin.
“I’m calling nine-one-one!” I say, my voice surprisingly steady despite my rising panic.
“Don’t!” he rasps, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes as though that one syllable cost him everything.
It’s then that I realize Dimitri’s body is changing. His spine arches as he writhes on all fours, his muscles and tendons rippling. What looks like fur is sprouting all over his body, and his facial bones seem distorted.
