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Bad Wolf(67)

By:Jo Raven


I think I've forgotten how to breathe.

"Well, I'd love a latte," Ev says, shattering the web, breaking the spell, and I fall back in my chair, sucking in much needed air.

"A latte it is," he says, his voice a bit rough, and he straightens, pulling out his order pad. "And for you, Embers?"

"Embers?" Micah frowns. "What sort of name is that?"                       
       
           



       

"Exactly my thoughts," I mutter.

Jesse sighs, shakes his head, bites his lip on a smile. He's unnervingly cute like that, and so sexy I ache deep inside from wanting him so much.

Holy crap. Not good. "A latte for me, too," I say quickly and push my chair back with a screech. "Be back in a bit."

"I'll come with you," Ev says and grabs her purse, but I shake my head.

"Need a minute," I whisper, and she stills, her eyes narrowing. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Jesse is staring hard at me, his gaze almost tangible, and I know everyone is looking, wondering why I'm taking off like that.

"She just needs the restroom," Ev says, turning to Jesse, and he blinks, as if coming out of a daydream.

"Of course. That way." He turns and points, muscles flexing on his bare arm, making his colorful tattoos dance. "If you want, I can show you, I'm going that-"

"No, it's fine," I snap and stride past him in the indicated direction. "No need."

"Jesse, stay," I hear Micah bark, and I have a weird urge to laugh as I bolt between tables, spot the ladies toilets and run to hide inside.



Someone taps on the restroom door as I wash my hands, stalling. It's a quaint little restroom, like the café that houses it, with flowery wallpaper and a wrought-iron mirror. A vase with dried flowers stands on a low table.

The knocking comes again. The handle starts to turn.

"Just a minute!" I shout and turn off the faucet, then reach for the paper towels. "Don't-"

A bass voice rumbles through, startling me so badly I let the paper towels fall to the floor. "Hey, Embers, just making sure you're okay."

The handle turns again, this time all the way-because of course the lock wouldn't work, typical of quaint little places-and the door opens.

"Wait!"

Too late. Jesse is standing in the opening, filling it from side to side and bottom to top, one muscular arm casually braced on the frame. "So are you?"

Unconsciously I step back, retreating until I hit the toilet. "Am I what?"

He cocks his head to the side. "Okay. Are you okay?"

He's blocking the door, and I feel cornered, trapped. My heart is trying to climb up my throat. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"Why are you scared of me?" He gives me his easy grin, and I want to scream. "I told you, I-"

"Back off, Jesse."

"Sure thing." A dark flash goes through his bright eyes, and his mouth twists briefly. Then he nods and gives me a ghost of a smile. "No problem."

He retreats, lifting his hands, and then he's gone, leaving the doorway empty, my escape route free.

I have a sudden, strange yearning to call him back, tell him why I'm acting this way. Antisocial by default, made worse by past events. Retreating into my shell when people are around. Hiding.

A yearning to tell him where my terrors crawl out from, where they are born, in that black pit of the past on which I tried to put a lid and failed.

But I can't. I can't open up, lay myself wide to anyone, much less him. Someone I don't know, someone who's so beautiful and arrogant he scares me to death. Truth is, I don't do people. I don't get close. Distance is necessary for safety.

Experience tells me not to give away anything, not even a shred of myself, or they'll tear me apart. Not to let anyone in or they'll eat me up from the inside and spit me out where everyone can see.

So I wrap myself up in my past, the memories I tried to bury for so long and failed, and sit down on the closed toilet lid. Damn, they're still inside of me, pieces of me, mind scars, fear grooves running straight to my nightmares.

Get yourself together, Amber. You're free. The bullies aren't here. It's been a while. They wouldn't even know you if they saw you. And you know how to defend yourself now.

Okay. There's a stitch in my side, as if I've been running. I suck in a deep breath and almost choke on it. All right. I can do this.

I'm stronger than this. I've fought it and beat it once before. I can do it again. So I sit and struggle to calm my pounding pulse and erratic breathing, try to calm my mind before I go out there and face the world once more.





Chapter Four





Jesse





The one chance I got to talk to Amber, and I scared the shit out of her.

Great job, J. No idea how I frightened her, but it's left a sour taste in my mouth and no frigging clue why I care. Girl only just arrived to town, never missed a chance to tell me off and make clear she doesn't want me around, and I just can't keep away from her.                       
       
           



       

Goddammit.

I've been out of sorts since the party. I can't stop thinking of her, and now I have a pissed-off Micah on my back, unhappy because he told me to leave her alone and I didn't. But hey, she ran off to the restroom, and she looked pale. What's a guy to do but check on her, right? God knows I've seen my fair share of breakdowns and panic attacks. Just wanted to make sure she was okay.

And, fine, I was hoping she'd stop glaring at me for a change. It's getting to me, turning me inside out. Ridiculous, I know. Stupid. I barely know her. But it's somehow important to me.

Besides, Micah should know that's how I am. Worrying at the bone, poking at the snake to see if it will bite. Scratching at the scabs to see if they'll bleed. Trying to figure life out.

Hasn't worked out too well so far. At least not where people are concerned. The only ones who've stuck around are Zane and his gang, and if you asked me, I wouldn't know to tell you why. Doesn't make a lick of sense to me why they'd want me around.

My concentration isn't the only thing I lost at that party. My leather wrist band is gone, too, and I'm pretty sure I wore it there. That band's important to me. This sucks.

I go back to work, an itch between my shoulder blades. When I bring the drinks to the guys' table, Amber's there, talking quietly to Evangeline, and I let my glance bounce off her. Ocean and Cassie are giving me intense looks I can't decipher-at least Ocean's, 'cuz I know Cassie wants in my pants-and I grin at them, pulling the mask back down over my face.

Thanks to Zane and Rafe, I'm learning a craft I love, I have a place to crash, and now I got this second job through Megan. I know I'm damn lucky to be here, and I won't fuck it up, I swear it to any god who might listen. Hell, I swore it to Helen.

I'll stay away from Amber and keep the smile on my face every day, even if it kills me. Nobody ever wants a sullen, whiny brat around.

"Here you go, guys." I put the cups on the table with a flourish, wink at Cassie who winks right back-see? Some people are easy to please-and avoid Micah's heavy stare. "Anything else you need?"

"Sit, have coffee with us," Ev chirps, and I give her a genuine smile, because she's so nice when she has no particular reason to like me-apart from the fact I work with her boyfriend at Damage Control.

"No can do, sweets, sorry. Gotta work."

"When do you get off work?"

I keep the smile firmly on. "In an hour."

"In an hour, then. We'll still be here."

"Right." I lift a hand, rub the back of my neck. "Fact is, I really need to run afterward. Gotta work."

She blinks.

"You still work at that taco place down the street?" Ocean asks. "I thought you'd stopped."

"Can't do that, man. Need the money for the rent."

"Isn't Rafe helping you with that?"

"He is. He has helped me more than enough. I need to start taking care of myself now. I'm a big boy."

I grin so widely my cheeks hurt, and I know Ocean isn't fooled, but fuck him. I'm telling the truth. I feel shitty knowing Rafe is still paying for my rent, even if it's not that much. Not to mention that the need to carry my own weight is eating at me. I need to be able to pay my rent on my own.

But that's not the only reason I need more money.

"Rafe rocks," Ocean mutters, and I nod in agreement. He does, and I'm grateful to him as I am to Zane who's taken me as his apprentice. Can't thank those guys enough.

Also can't deny that moving out of the apartment I'm sharing with three other guys would be so fucking great.

Shit, I'm not ungrateful. My roomies aren't bad guys, but there's only so much testosterone that can live peacefully under one roof, and I need some quiet. Some place where I can wake up howling from a nightmare without waking everyone up, or jerk off in the shower without one or the other walking in on me.

Yeah, I jerk off a lot. Hey, I'm a horny boy, and I like getting off. Takes my mind off the crap that sits on my mind.

Can't ignore the fact that I've been jacking off more often lately, especially now I have a certain prickly chick on my mind. Damn her curvy body and the heat in those angry blue eyes. Makes me hot as hell, which just goes to show. My body wants her, even if my brain knows I can't have her. She hates me, and even if I don't know why, it hurts.