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Not a single one of those deaths came from my guys or the Council. Instead, all the hunters died.
And, when we got back to the big house, Rain refused to give me back the folders I'd given him and he'd driven away with my Rover.
Both Simon and Trenton remained my shadows until Quinton got home.
Part of me hated them all.
Poor Marcus probably hated me when I called him later to tell him I’d left his borrowed SUV somewhere and he’d have to find someone to help go and pick it up. Though, he was Marcus, so he didn’t act upset in the slightest.
Chapter Twenty-One
Iwent to bed angry and woke up much the same. I also woke up annoyed because I was all alone in my big bed and the ginormous house was silent. I ran my hand over the middle and empty side of the bed, it was cold to the touch and I knew it had been empty the entire night. I'd slept alone.
I wasn't sure why sleeping alone bothered me so much and tried not to think too much into it. I was already in a horribly bad mood, I didn't want to poke at it and make it even worse.
I got out of bed and dragged my tired body into the bathroom where I showered and blow dried my hair while wrapped up in a plush, white, oversized towel that felt like heaven against my skin.
I padded on bare feet to the closet, still in my towel, and attempted to hunt down something I didn't hate to wear for the day. Later, I planned on driving over to Dash's—if I could locate my Rover and wrestle my keys away from Rain that is—and pack up some of my actual belongings so I could tote them back here with me. I didn't want to pack up all of my things, it would feel too permanent to me and I knew that if I moved in here for good I would never, ever be moving out again.
It seemed like every time I got comfortable in a home, the rug was ripped out from under me, and I was forced to find some place else to live. This time I hadn't been alone though and Dash had been forced to come along with me. We'd both been uprooted together this time and that made the whole thing a lot worse.
I felt like if I moved all of my things out of the cottage, that would be some kind of betrayal toward him on my part. We were a tiny team in the middle of the chaos that was always my life.
I was carefully pulling a pair of panties up my legs while trying to clutch the towel tightly to my chest when I heard the door to my bedroom open and then close. Footsteps padded across the floor.
Quinton stopped in the doorway to the closet. His eyes raked over my bare shoulders and dropped down to where I had my panties at my knees. I straightened quickly, dragging them up the rest of the way. His eyes heated as they followed my movements. A little smile graced his face as he watched me cross my arms over my chest and get ready to do battle with him.
"You're pissed," he observed in an amused voice, which only served to make me angrier than I had been before he'd walked in here.
"No," I said sarcastically. "I'm filled with joy—can't you feel it oozing out of me?"
His lips twitched like I'd amused him evenmoreandsomething terrible came over me. I turned around and plucked the first thing I could reach off of the shelf closest to me. It was a hairbrush I had never seen nor used before. Probably an expensive one too. That pissed me off even more.
I turned and threw the brush across the room, aiming right at his smug face. His arm shot up to protect his face, just in time, and the brush bounced right off his yellow and orange colored forearm. It crashed down to the floor uselessly in a clatter.
Slowly, he lowered his arm and the look in his eyes had me shuffling back a step, away from him, away from that look. It wasn't anger, like I was expecting, that was there just below the surface and starting to leak out of his gaze. It was hunger, and the raw intensity of it aimed in my direction terrified me.
"Get out," I whispered hoarsely.
He shook his head as he stalked toward me. "I don't think so, Ariel. Not this time."
I swallowed thickly. No ‘baby’ this time, that meant business, and the sweet side to Quinton that was only for me was nowhere to be seen. He was a predator as he prowled toward me, and I was his prey.
This was all a game to him. A delicious game I didn't know the rules to, and I wasn't all that sure if I even wanted to play in the first place.
I let out a startled noise when my back met with the shelves, and various things rattled, but thankfully nothing fell off.
"We should probably talk about why I'm mad at you," I said in a strangled voice.
He shook his head as he got right in my space, in my face. His hands went to my hips and he smoothed his palms up over the towel.
"The time for talking is over," he murmured.
His lips brushed over mine softly in a gentle caress that was hardly there.
"I—" I had no idea why I protested or why I'd been angry with him in the first place. He was fuddling my mind.
Quinton grabbed the edges of the towel and yanked it down. It unraveled from where I had it tucked in the front of my body and dropped to the floor.
