Taking a break, we found a restaurant for a real meal. I felt exposed walking into such an open normal space. I wanted food, but I wanted safety more. Luke held the door for me, and I felt his troubled gaze as I passed him, but he didn’t say anything. Picking a booth, I slid in and he surprised me by sitting next to me.
“Relax,” he breathed a moment before the waitress came. She gave us menus and asked for our drink order, barely looking at us in her hurry. When she walked away, Luke turned slightly toward me draping his arm over the back of the bench seat. I met his gaze. He smiled and spoke his next words softly so only I heard them. “Maybe I should have bought you a gun.”
The absurdity of his comment struck me, and I laughed as he intended. “I don’t think it would have made a difference.” I hesitated playfully, then said, “Well, maybe it would have.”
His grin fell, and he grew serious. “I’ll buy you an arsenal if it would help you feel safe.” The gruff words and the affection behind them tugged my heart making my stomach twist crazily. His hand moved slightly, so close to the side of my face.
The waitress came with our drinks, and he straightened in his seat leaving me in confused frustration. He ran so hot and cold. He wanted me. I knew he did. But yet, he didn’t. Why was he fighting it?
Our waitress asked if we were ready to order. Without looking at the menu, I ordered a burger and fries. She took note of it and looked at Luke. Her smile grew just a bit brighter and she shifted her stance, cocking her hip in a flirty way. I rolled my eyes.
“He’ll have two burgers and an order of fries,” I told her before he could speak. She gave me a fake smile, wrote the order on her stupid little pad, collected our menus, and walked away.
“Twat,” I mumbled.
He gave me a look.
“What? There aren’t any kids around, and I was quiet.”
His lips twitched, and he turned toward me once again.
I mimicked his pose careful not to touch him. I didn’t want to freak out my stomach or fall asleep. I watched his eyes for a moment, liking the amusement that still danced in them, but decided we needed to address some real issues.
“You know they will be waiting for us, right?”
“Let’s talk about something else,” he said softly. “I like it better when you have fire or laughter in your eyes instead of what I see now.”
“What do you see?”
“Fear.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Pardon. Despair.” He spoke softly, his unwavering regard making me feel vulnerable.
I couldn’t help the despair. It lived and breathed in me. Sometimes, he helped me forget though. Distracted me. Like when I tried to bite him. A blush crept into my cheeks as I remembered my failed attempts.
His gaze changed. A glimpse of coveting sparked in the depth of it as he lifted his hand from the back of the bench. I dropped my own arm out of the way. He reached forward just a bit and lightly ran the back of his forefinger along my cheek.
I barely felt his slow, soft touch, but my heart stuttered anyway.
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I see your despair and it makes me...” He exhaled slowly, before opening his eyes. His intensity pinned me. “I want to hurt whoever put that emotion in your eyes.”
“I don’t get you. If you feel that strongly about me, why can’t I Claim you?”
He abruptly shook his head, “Let’s talk about something—”
“Else,” I finished for him, annoyed. I paused for a moment, seeing the waitress approach again. “You’re a twat, too.”
He threw his head back with a laugh just as she stopped by our table. Her eyes glazed over a bit as her eyes swept his face and throat. I briefly considered clawing her eyes out before reining myself in. Whoa, where did that come from? Biting my lip, I quelled my immediate need to freak out over the strong surge of possessiveness that just rushed me. Nature set him up as a possibility for me so of course I’d feel that way. It didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t actually stupid enough to fall for him. But, until we reached his friends at the Compound, if I couldn’t bite him, no one else would be allowed to nibble. Because...well, just because.
“Can I get you a refill?” she asked him softly.
“He’s fine,” I answered, staring her down.
He kept his eyes on me, and they danced with silent laughter. Yeah, I wanted to smack him again.
She walked away to check on her other tables.
“If we can’t talk about them or us, what should we talk about?”
“You. What do you like doing? What are your interests?”
My mouth popped open. “Are you serious?” We were running toward what I considered our impending deaths, and he wanted to get to know me?
He nodded, and I rolled my eyes. “I like breathing and am interested in staying alive.”
“Bethi,” he practically growled.
Maybe this would help convince him. “Okay, okay. So, interests. Well, before I started losing my mind I—” What had I done? I went to school, hung out with friends, sighed over boys, worried about clothes. “I was self-centered and immature. My interests don’t really matter beyond that do they? Not after everything I’ve seen.