Carlos watched me as I speared a clump of eggs and put it in my mouth.
The flavor took me off guard. It tasted good. My stomach rumbled until I finished the eggs. I set down my fork, using my fingers to bite into a piece of bacon. The saltiness was delicious. I chewed slowly, wondering why this food tasted so different. I wasn’t starving. I’d been eating. A little.
I realized the food hadn’t changed. I had. I was still angry, still devastated, but something was different.
A beep distracted me. I started chewing again and watched Carlos get up and go to the waffle maker. The thing he brought back was the size of my head. Probably the right portion size for werewolves.
Carlos set the plate before me then sat. I drowned the waffle in syrup and took a bite. It was good, just like the eggs had been. We ate in silence, and I tried not to think too much. When I did, my thoughts always found a way back to Ethan.
Just before I took my last bite, Clay, Gabby, Emmitt, Michelle, and Jim came in.
“I smell pancakes,” Jim said. He looked at Carlos and me for confirmation.
“Waffles,” I said when Carlos remained quiet.
“Just as good.” Jim playfully pushed his brother out of the way to get to the waffle maker first.
I turned away from their playful antics and waited for Carlos to finish. When he stood, he took both our plates.
“We’re supposed to meet in room 237 at ten,” Emmitt said to Carlos when he noticed us getting ready to leave.
Carlos nodded and threw our plates in the garbage. I followed him from the room with no intention of going to another one of their little packed-room meetings. Just the thought of it made me twitchy. Hiding out in my room sounded like a better plan.
When Carlos turned down a side hall, I didn’t question it; I’d been watching my feet on the way to the lobby. He turned again, and I absently followed until he stopped. I looked up, realizing I’d been watching my feet again, and saw where we were. An exercise room. The food in my stomach soured.
“No.”
He was too quick, though. He moved around me to close the door and stand in front of it.
“Yes.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and almost got mad. But I didn’t. It was too much effort. Besides, my anger was reserved now. For Blake and his kind.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Just five minutes.”
“No.”
He studied me for a moment then stepped away from the door. His gaze didn’t waver as he advanced. There was something predatory in his moves that had me taking a step back.
“No,” I said again.
He seemed not to hear as he slowly stalked me. He would step forward. I would step back. Until there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go.
“I don’t want to spar.”
He didn’t stop until we stood toe to toe. Then he tilted his head to the side.
“I know.”
If he understood, why had he just broken my personal bubble? I stared at him, trying to guess what he meant to do. Did he really think he could make me fight?
After taking a moment to study my face, he slowly lifted his hands. My pulse leapt when they settled on my shoulders. His gaze didn’t waver from mine as his thumbs moved on my skin. Just tiny circles. It wasn’t aggressive, but it gave me an idea of what he was thinking. And that made me angry.
“Back off, Carlos.”
“No.”
His hands started to move, tracing down until his thumbs rested on my collarbones.
My arms were up between his, breaking the contact before he could move further.
“Got a problem?” he said calmly.
His words gave away his intention, but it didn’t change my answer.
“Yeah. You.”
“I’m not your problem, Isabelle.”
His calm tone worked its way under my skin, and before I knew I’d fisted my hand, I jabbed him in the right shoulder. The image of Ethan’s bruised shoulder flashed in my mind. My stomach pitched and tears threatened until Carlos spoke.
“You don’t need to baby me, Isabelle.”
Like I’d babied Ethan?
“Shut up and finish what you started.”
I gave him twenty minutes instead of five.
He didn’t comment when I finally stepped back. Nor did he say anything as he followed me down the hall. Ethan would have been making little comments, trying to tease me into a better mood. Guilt hit me with that thought.
I used my keycard to open the door to our room, then quickly grabbed my bag and shut myself in the bathroom. Staring at my reflection, I let the tears fall. I’d hit Carlos repeatedly in the right shoulder, just like I had Ethan. What was wrong with me? Why did I have to be that way?
Turning away from my reflection, I started the shower. I let the warm water wash away my tears. After a good cry, I felt a little better.
When I reemerged, my skin was pink from the long, hot shower; and a billow of steam followed me out despite my use of the bathroom fan. My clean leggings had been a bugger to tug on.