“My parents sent Gregory and Mary down,” he said as he wiped down the counter.
I paused putting away the lunchmeat, giving him my full attention.
“They can’t leave the Compound themselves and were curious about the girl who has captured their son’s attention.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me that before?” I asked in mild exasperation.
He didn’t answer right away, so I tossed the jar in the fridge and turned to him with my arms crossed.
“I didn’t want you to worry about meeting them.”
“When Nana said people were coming, bringing their sons, I thought it was going to be like Blake’s all over again.” I swallowed hard and looked away from him.
“No,” he growled. “How many times do I have to tell you?” He backed me against the counter.
“You. Are. Mine.”
His knuckles brushed my neck as he moved my hair aside, and he leaned forward, lips running along my jaw.
At first contact, my heart thundered painfully and heat burst in my chest, radiating outward. I reached up, fisting my hands in his short hair. It was just long enough to grip.
I wanted to pull him closer, to move beyond this limbo stage. Instead, I tugged him back by his hair. He didn’t move at first.
“Emmitt, stop. I can’t think like this.”
He pulled back. The pupils of his eyes swallowed the midnight blue of his irises. The tips of two sharp teeth poked out from under his upper lip, drawing my attention to his mouth. I’d stared at his chest plenty, but never really his lips. I blinked slowly. What would it feel like to have them pressed against mine? I wanted...
“Do it,” he whispered.
“What?” I breathed out the word, my gaze flying to his. Blood rushed to my face, and I nudged him back. He sighed and gave me room. Not much, but I could think again.
“Nothing.” He gently brushed his fingertips along my collarbone. “I’m going to check on the boys.”
I nodded and watched him leave, wondering how long Gregory and Mary would be staying and what kind of report they would take back to Emmitt’s parents.
I spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in my apartment, too chicken to find out the answer to either of those questions.
Emmitt came back hours later and convinced me to join everyone for a picnic dinner. Liam and Aden sat near Paul and Henry, a new sheen of hero worship in their eyes. We lingered at the table after they ran off to play.
Mary asked me how I liked living at the house. The innocent enough question felt like a graded essay. Did his parents disapprove of me living in the same house? Should I say it made me uncomfortable? No. They would sense the lie. I weighed my choices and finally settled on admitting the truth; I felt safe there. She smiled kindly and asked if I’d given any thought to the future. I looked at Emmitt helplessly.
“We should probably go up and get everything ready for tonight,” he said, standing and rescuing me. I followed his lead and started gathering plates to help clean up. “Paul and Henry can crash at Jim’s,” he continued. “You’re welcome to use my place.”
Mary nodded her thanks as I made my escape inside.
Emmitt and I worked together, quietly putting condiments away in Jim’s fridge, then headed upstairs.
Sensing my mood, Emmitt put in a movie and steered me to the couch with a stern order to relax. He came in once during the middle of the movie with a pillow and a light blanket, which he set on the couch in anticipation of his overnight stay.
I woke in the middle of the night, heart hammering from my vivid dream. The man from town had tracked us, and I’d watched as he had scaled the outside of the house to reach the third floor. He’d had vicious, sharp teeth. Not just his canines, but all of them. As he’d walked around the porch, he had dragged his nails along the siding, making a terrible screeching noise.
Throwing off the covers, I got up to close the window. The cool night air felt nice, but a mere screen separating me from the outside world didn’t feel very safe. I tiptoed to the boys’ room and closed their windows, too. It was cool enough in the house, anyway, because of the recent rain.
When I reached the living room, I paused. I’d forgotten about Emmitt. His dark form sprawled on the couch. In the dim light, I caught the glint of his eyes and knew he was awake and watching me.
“Bad dream,” I said quietly.
He sat up and opened his arms in invitation.
Still shivering from the image of the man scaling the porches, I quickly went to him. I sat on the couch and leaned into his side, resting my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Go to sleep.”
I liked that he didn’t ask me to share the dream. Talking about it would make it too real and harder to sleep again. His warmth eventually relaxed me, and I curled into him, getting more comfortable.
Werewolves made comfy beds, I thought sleepily. He kissed the top of my head, and I slept.
Chapter 15