LUCY
Shame on you, I say to myself, the words a jagged whisper as I rest my back slowly against the wall. I stay there for a long moment, catching my breath, catching my senses before they can spiral any further.
Shame on you, Lucy Drakonia.
I shake my head slowly, my hands going up to rest on my hair—ruffling it, flattening it, and then pulling it down in frustration. My skin still feels too tight, my blood still singing from a contact I never should have allowed.
"Shame on you!" I cuss out loud, the sound echoing off the narrow walls of the stairwell, when I realize my body yet tingles for him, reaches for him. The stranger. Tavric.
I stamp my feet on the ground angrily and hurry down the stairs, wishing—yet not wishing—that he was still outside. Perhaps he was as disoriented as I am. Maybe he was reclining against the exterior walls, gasping for air just like me.
But when I peer out into the night, there is only the thick darkness and the biting, windy air.
I wrap my arms across my chest, my eyes darting through the dimly lit street. I see no one. No one, at least, who looks like the hulk that kissed me and then simply vanished into the shadows.
What the hell? Is it a dare? Has he been dared to kiss me?
By who, then?
My mind spins with ridiculous theories before I catch myself.
What am I even doing—he isn't from around here! He doesn't go to the college; if he did, I would know. A man with that kind of presence would garner a following from his looks alone.
How dare he kiss me and vanish? Do I look like a slut, or some easy fangirl?
With each mounting mental question, my anger grows until it becomes a living thing. I kick the door, angry most at myself. Why did I return the kiss? Why did I lean into him like he was the very air I needed to breathe?
I cuss again when those traitorous tingles start in my lower belly as the memory surfaces. I will have to banish the memory to hell, just as the man has banished himself before I could even get his identity from him.
"Fuck you!" I scream into the night air, a useless challenge to the empty street. I wait for some sign, and when I see none, I scoff and start back into the hallway.
My gaze falls on the padlock. I cuss again when I see it was truly broken, the metal snapped like a twig.
The hell. It confirms what I already sensed: Tavric is just like my kind. He possesses that intense, raw strength that only surfaces when a wolf is triggered.
Did the kiss trigger him? And why would it even trigger him?
Giving up on the broken lock, I only slide the heavy bolt in place, hoping I don't get attacked in the middle of the night.
I start up the staircase again, but my feet feel heavy. I pause on the landing, the air still thick with the ghost of him. The whole thing seems like a fever dream, except for the fact that my lips still tingle and his scent—that cedar and rain—is pervading the entire staircase.
Steeling myself against that intoxicating scent, I march the final flight of stairs. I jam the key into my door and enter my apartment, the silence of the rooms hitting me like a physical blow.
I shut the door and make sure every bolt is in place, triple-checking the locks. Tavric isn't a good piece on the board. He is a wild card, a danger. I already don't like him.
Sighing, I flick on the light. The yellow glow doesn't make the place feel any warmer. I drop my bag on the couch and dump myself onto the cushions in the same vein.
I should take a long bath to wash him off my skin. I should eat a real dinner. But I'm just too tired, my muscles too lax from the sudden drop in adrenaline.
I lie straight on the couch, staring at the ceiling, until my eyes furrow as they catch sight of the packaged gift sitting on the coffee table.
Well, look at that. I actually forgot.
Today is my birthday.
In the spirit of loving myself more every day—of forcing myself to push through the gray fog of this new life—I had ordered some beauty products online a few days ago.
I had received the package during my shift at noon, hurried home to drop it off, and then returned to work, leaving the unboxing as a treat for when I returned.
Sighing, I force myself to my feet. My joints feel stiff as I go to the fridge and take out a little bento cake from the freezer.
I had bought it from the café downstairs, somehow managing to hide it from Harlen and Vera. I wanted to mark this first year away from home alone.
I sit on the floor, settling onto the plush rug. I slowly tear the tape off the beauty package, but the excitement I expected isn't there. It just feels like more things to fill a void that has no bottom.
I set the box aside and open the clear packaging of the cake. The frosting is slightly smudged from the move.
"Happy 22nd birthday, Lucy…" I whisper, leaning my head against the edge of the coffee table.
The sound of my own voice in the empty room is the final straw. A single sob breaks through, followed by a flood.