As soon as I stuffed the last bite of fajita into my mouth, he reached for my plate. He still had half a fajita on his.
“You’re done?” I was surprised he’d gone through all the effort of cooking if he really wasn’t that hungry. Not that I would complain about it; dinner had been delicious.
“Yes. I’ve had enough.” He stood with the plates and brought them to the sink. He set them on the counter and turned toward me.
“Let’s go for the walk.”
I glanced at the plates behind him. He hadn’t scraped the plates, rinsed them, or anything. That wasn’t like him.
“Um. Okay.”
I went to the couch and grabbed my jacket and scarf. It was a struggle to loop the scarf the way the woman had shown me, but I finally got it, then put on my shoes. Carlos waited by the door the entire time. Though he was an emotional void as usual and didn’t fidget in the slightest, something about him rang with impatience.
“Don’t you need a jacket or a sweater or something?”
“No.” He opened the door and gestured me out.
“Are you impatient?” I asked, eyeing him as I walked out the door.
“Yes, Isabelle. Very.”
He closed the door.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
He held out his hand. I took it, and we started down the hall. I had to hustle to keep up with his long strides.
“I’m hoping we can go for a run.”
“Aren’t we already?”
He slowed down as we jogged down the stairs. Though I kept glancing at him, I couldn’t read anything from him.
“Where are we going to run?”
“Outside.”
I laughed at him, and the sound of it echoed in the garage. He pulled me toward the exit door, barely nodding to the guard there. As soon as we were outside, he stopped and turned to me.
His fingers glided over my cheeks, and he leaned in close to my ear.
“Run, Isabelle.”
I jerked back at his roughened voice.
“Whoa! Wait. Is this like the last time? You can’t...” I glanced around. There were still people everywhere. The guard watched us through the security window. “People will see.”
“I won’t change.”
His shaking, fisted hands didn’t convince me.
“And what are you going to do when you catch me?”
His gaze heated.
“Make out.”
My stomach thought it was a great plan and started doing aerobatic maneuvers. Anticipation coursed through me.
“I want a head start,” I said.
“I’ll count to ten.”
“Fifty.”
“Twenty-five, starting now. One. Two...”
I pivoted and sprinted away from him, pushing people aside. My stupid grin helped keep everyone’s alarm down. I pressed myself to run fast, then faster, using the emotions I accidently siphoned from those around me. Behind me, the sound of Carlos’ counting faded.
What was I doing? This was crazy. Crazy exciting!
I gasped for air but didn’t slow. My sneakers hit the pavement with resounding thumps. I turned a corner then dashed across the street, weaving between still moving cars. One almost hit me. I didn’t slow.
Was he still counting? Had it been twenty-five seconds? I bolted around another corner, putting more distance between us, and spotted a little café ahead. I briefly considered ducking into it, but that thought came to a screeching halt when I was grabbed from behind and lifted into the air.
I squealed and laughed.
“That wasn’t the reaction I expected,” a strange voice said a moment before the man spun me around and hit me in the face.
Pain exploded. I widened my stance to keep from falling as my ears rang. My vision was grey and blurry, messing with my equilibrium more. I tried to shake the feeling free and pull, but pulling made my stomach heave. I gagged.
The guy swore and grabbed my arm, spinning me away from him. My pulse throbbed in my upper lip and cheek.
“I’ve got one,” I heard him say. “She was alone but running. Get a car here, quick.”
Like hell.
I shook my head again and pulled hard. His grasp slackened, and I almost lost my fajita but the pull worked. I’d gained what I needed. Clarity returned in time for me to see the man fall to his knees. I punched him in the face. Twice. Then grabbed the phone from his hand. The man blinked at me stupidly.
Across the street, someone was yelling. I ignored that and put the phone to my ear.
“Who is this?”
“This is Blake,” a man politely said on the other end.
I saw red.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“Hi, Blake. Not nice to meet you. My name is Isabelle, and I’m out for your blood.”
He laughed.
“So refreshingly honest, Isabelle. I am truly sorry about your loss,” he said, becoming serious. “I hope we can meet, so I can apologize in person.”
I clenched my fists and looked at the man still kneeling beside me. He was starting to look a bit too alert. I pulled again, taking some of the anxious emotions from the people starting to crowd around the café. The coppery tang of blood coated my mouth, and I spat.
“The human’s death was unnecessary,” Blake said. “We only wanted to separate you from the filth with which you’ve been traveling so we might discuss the future.”
“The future,” I said. “Yeah, we have a lot to discuss. And I’m on my way to you. But not with your guy here.”
Carlos came around the corner at a run but when he saw me, he stopped and started to shake violently. Crap. He was going to go fur. I glanced around at the people staring at us from the café across the street. Not good. This would end with the kind of exposure Bethi didn’t want for the werewolves.
“Gotta go,” I said quickly, then disconnected.
I dropped the phone to the sidewalk, stomped on it, then pulled hard enough that the guy next to me slumped to the ground. Just as quickly, I pushed everything out.
Hurrying forward, I went to Carlos. His teeth peeked out from his upper lip as he stared at me.
“You caught me,” I said, cupping his face.
He growled, not at me, but at my bruised and bloody face. His gaze flicked to the man on the ground behind me.
“No way, Carlos. You promised me a make out session.”
His gaze shifted back to me, and I tilted my head back, offering my lips. He didn’t move to meet me, and I couldn’t reach him. We didn’t have time for his hesitation. No doubt some idiot had already called the cops. They were probably snapping pictures. Carlos needed to find his happy place fast.
“Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be playing hard to get, remember?”
I set my hands on his shoulders then jumped up and wrapped my legs around him.
“I feel like a frontwards backpack,” I whispered before touching my lips to his. It hurt. And I was pretty sure he tasted my blood. But I didn’t stop.
After a moment, his arms wrapped around me. His lips feathered over mine oh so gently, then skimmed over my hot and throbbing cheek.
“We can’t leave him. He’ll trace our scent back to the others,” Carlos said against my skin.
“We can’t kill him,” I whispered against Carlos’ throat. He shuddered. “Too many witnesses. Take me for a run. We’ll get a taxi, then go home.” I pulled back enough to look at Carlos. His teeth had receded.
His gaze drifted to those around us, then he turned and headed back the way we’d come. At the street, he didn’t cross but kept going straight. When I saw a taxi over his shoulder, I whistled—my cheek felt ready to fall off—and waved. The car pulled over.
“Got your wallet?” I said in Carlos’ ear.
He nodded and set me down. I got into the back and slid over for Carlos.
“We’d like to see some sights,” Carlos said, pulling out a benny and showing it to the driver. “What do you recommend?”
I didn’t catch the driver’s answer. My face was killing me.