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I checked out, put the bags in my truck, ready to get the fuck out of there, when I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. I looked up to see Cyrus walking out of the pharmacy with a bag in his hand, drowning in a large coat. There was something different about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He had a beanie covering his head, his gaze angled down, his body looking almost curled in on itself.
It was wrong, entangling myself with him even more, but I slammed the door, boots taking loud, hard steps across the parking lot.
I didn’t know if he heard me or sensed me, but suddenly his head shot up, gaze locking on mine, just as a deep rumble started low in my chest. His hand shot up to cover his face, but it was too late, the black eye all I could see. My teeth grinded together, my nostrils flaring.
“Wh-o.” The single word came out broken, and suddenly, I hated that I didn’t use my voice enough for it to sound right, hated that the rage festering inside me made it hard to get out.
“None of your business.”
“Who?” I managed to push out again. I vibrated with so much anger, I thought my bones would break, just grind to dust right there.
“It’s over, and I dealt with it.”
I didn’t doubt he had. I could feel his strength simmering beneath the surface, like a lion stalking its prey. The brave little lamb had spent a lifetime protecting himself, and still stood tall. Had he ever had someone look after him? Care for him? He’d mentioned his mother being incredible—was she that person? I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life thinking I’d never had someone like that, and not realizing I needed it until I got my mother’s journal and discovered she’d been that person for me.
I’d never wanted to be it for someone else, hadn’t even fathomed that was a possibility for me. People were confusing, frustrating, and I didn’t like them…but I liked him. I’d wanted to take care of him when he’d sprained his ankle, the feeling even more intense now. Whoever did this to him, I would rip them apart with my bare hands.
I growled, low and angry.
Cyrus tried to step around me, but I moved in front of him, blocking his path. He tried to take a step in the other direction, so I did it again.
“I understand it…why you like it out here. Somehow the seclusion and quiet helps silence the voices in my head.”
I took his arm and began tugging him toward my truck.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Cyrus tried to pull out of my grasp, but I didn’t let him, just kept walking as he tried to work himself free. “What the hell, Crow? Unless you want me to kick you in the balls like I did the guy who gave me this black eye, you better tell me what the fuck is going on.”
He’d kicked him. I had to bite the inside of my cheek so I didn’t smile. The action nearly had me stumbling because it was so foreign to me. When was the last time I’d smiled? That last time wasn’t something I could think about.
When we got to my truck, I ripped the passenger door open and motioned for him to get inside.
“No.”
I motioned again, but he crossed his arms, bag still in his hand, and stood his ground. “What’s the point? You don’t even know me. What do you care if someone hits me?”
Another growl pushed past my lips because I shouldn’t care. But I did.
“Maybe I like to be roughed up. Maybe we were fucking and he—”
I pressed my hand over his mouth, unable to hear any more. He was trying to piss me off, trying to get under my skin, and it was working. Voice low, mouth close to his lips, I forced out, “Get in. The fucking. Truck.” Cyrus stilled against me, before a tremble ran the length of his body. I inhaled a deep breath, taking in the scent of him. The sweetness that was Cyrus and the fear, wrapped up in desire, was a heady combination that made my cock throb. “Now.”
When I pulled back slightly, our eyes met. He studied me, trying to make sense of this, make sense of me, but it was impossible. I wasn’t right. I was…unexplainable. The man who lived on the fringes.
Whatever he saw made a sigh fall from his lips before he got in.
I took the seat belt and wrapped it around him, clicking it closed.
“Are you trying to keep me from escaping? You know I can press a button.”
But he wouldn’t. I felt that deep in my bones. He wouldn’t because he didn’t want to.
I closed the door without a word, walked around, and got into the driver’s seat.
We were silent for the first few minutes as I headed toward the mountain. He fidgeted in his seat, and every once in a while, would raise his hand to cover his eye.
“I’m not weak. I might make stupid decisions, but I’m not weak, and I really can protect myself.”
I didn’t doubt that. Not in the least.
