Page 10 of Dark

Hayden laughed maniacally. I growled, pointing to the pair of cappuccinos over on the counter. “Wench. Table in the corner.”

“Do it and I will totally sing fifty verses of It’s a Small World,” she said a minute later, dropping the empty tray on the counter. “The heavy metal version. There will be broken glassware. Crowd surfing. Possibly a mosh pit—”

“Okay, Joan Jett, but it’s gonna go down as the first mosh pit in history for someone soloing on acoustic.”

“Bitch.” She flipped me off. “By the way, you have to pull the fire alarm if I suck.”

I flicked the end of her nose. “On it. I’m trouble. Haven’t you heard?”

And then she stared up into my eyes, so close I could see every streak of teal, dove gray, and dazzling iceberg blue in her irises, and said, “No, you aren’t.”

And I knew right then. I was screwed.

Watching Hayden play the guitar was like lying out in the bed of my truck at sunset as color bled in fiery streaks across the wide Texas sky. My hands twitched, hungry to grab a sketch pad even when I knew every pastel on earth couldn’t capture the beauty of the moment quite right. Some things were just a wild, terrible magic. Impossible to tame.

When Hayden sang, her voice captured fury and despair, hope and pain, all the things I’d never been good at putting into words. She was unassuming, unapologetic, and when her fingers clawed at the strings, in the moment she closed her eyes and whispered lyrics to that crowded room some irrevocably screwed-up voice in my head wished were only for me, I gripped the counter so hard my knuckles threatened to split, the feeling of wanting, the need for possession so naked, so raw, it took everything in me to force my wolf back.

It had been seventeen years since Ben and Sofia rescued me and August from the system. They were my parents now in every way that counted, the reason I eventually stopped screaming in the night, no longer expected to come home to a garbage sack containing my clothes on the front porch and quit hiding food in my bed like it was the last time I’d ever see it again.

In seventeen years, I’d never come so close to refusing a direct order as the moment Hayden Crowe’s eyes found mine across that dimly lit room. As if we were the last two people left in the world.

And in the moment she peeled the yellow post-it with the daisy from her ridiculous hot-chocolate-double-whip-extra-Thin-Mints-because-ugh-come-on-Ethan (which wasn’t even on the menu) and tucked it into her pocket while biting her bottom lip with a secret smile, I knew I was a goner.

It wasn’t the first time someone noticed. Pretty sure everyone around me had been able to tell for a while there was something there I should never have allowed to grow. And not just because Hayden Crowe was human, although that was part of it. I couldn’t ever be with anyone like that. Not without destroying them.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I said at last.

“You lied,” Hayden countered, all icy rage.

“To protect you.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Look how well that turned out.”

“Daisy—”

I started towards her. She swayed in place on those four-inch heels that brought her nearly to my height, visibly buzzing from the adrenaline. I balled my hands into fists, fighting to keep my heartrate down, the dizzying call of her blood thrumming through me like a siren’s song.

Her gaze flitted towards the door.

"Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

She shivered almost involuntarily, as if she could feel my voice licking over her skin. And wished it weren’t the only thing.

“Come here.”

Her eyes hooded at the command. Raw moonlust screamed in my blood, her pulse dragging mine upwards. Images slammed into my head. The two of us going at it up against the wall. Her legs wrapped around my waist. Dark nails rough in my hair. I was spreading her out on the table over in the corner, rucking that tiny black skirt up over her hips. And then I was down on my knees, her Docs scraping my back, my tongue—

That was when she bolted for the door. I knocked over a table, managing to catch her around the waist. Snarling, she slammed me into the wall, hard. Fingernails raked down my shoulder. Pain seared up my arm. Swearing, I shoved her back against the industrial refrigerator. She slapped me. I grabbed her wrists, forcing her face-down against the counter. Hayden writhed in fury, spitting every filthy name she could think at me.

“Let. Go.”

“Yeah, forgot to wash my red cape so the whole chasing-you-through-the-streets-while-you-inconveniently-eat-villagers thing won’t be happening.”

Twisting to the side, she sank her teeth into my biceps. I shouted, instantly going hard. The wolf roared up from my subconscious like a freight train. Something snapped into focus, my heart pounding so violently I thought it would explode. Nothing remained but the need to mark, to possess, to claim. Yanking Hayden’s hair to one side, I bit down, hard.

There was a second of struggle. Her sharp, shocked breath. And then the sweet rush of relief as the connection between us opened, tightened. Hayden Crowe, mine.

Mine.