“Wait. What?” Frosty called from the sidelines.
Yeah. What? Frosty had led me to believe Cole would want me to be with him.
Cole frowned at him, and I think the two somehow engaged in a silent argument with their eyes.
“Can’t wait,” I said, drawing Cole’s attention back to me.
“I wish... Well, it doesn’t matter.” He rolled his shoulders, the tension back and clearly too much. “I have to be with Lucas tonight, and I have to be alone.”
Something about his tone... It was the gruff one he used whenever he spoke about his secret. He had to be with Lucas because...he was spying on him? Emma had mentioned spying.
Or was I just giving him an excuse for not wanting to patrol with me?
Ugh. I hated this. Hated that I was taking everything he said, everything he did, and dissecting it, looking for hidden meaning, trying to give myself a reason to hope for reconciliation I knew wasn’t going to happen.
Stupid. Put your hope in the right thing, and it would be a lifeline. Put your hope in the wrong thing, and it would be a noose.
“I was serious. Be careful out there.” He ghosted his knuckle across the curve of my jaw. “Stay alert.”
I stepped back, out of reach. I wasn’t sure what he’d meant by the touch—and I wasn’t going to try to figure it out. I also wasn’t allowing him to touch me like that anymore.
He frowned.
“By the way,” I said, “I saw the rabbit cloud. I’m pretty sure the zombies will be out tonight.”
His features hardened, chilled. “You tell me now, after I decide to send you on patrol?”
What, he’d thought the zombies would stay in tonight, and that was the only reason he’d opted to send me out? Anger sparked. “If you hadn’t already broken up with me, I would absolutely be breaking up with you right this second. You’re a grade-A douche bag, Cole Holland.”
“According to your grandmother, it’s douche purse. And if I’m going to do something, it’s good to know I’m giving my best,” he replied, unfazed by my insult. “You’re a great fighter, and I have no problem throwing you into the heart of battle—when you’re well—but you’re still recovering from Justin’s bite, on top of everything else. Tonight, you’ll stay in.”
I felt my hand curl into a fist. Felt my elbow draw back. Felt my arm dart forward, my knuckles crack into Cole’s jaw. I couldn’t stop myself.
His head whipped to the side, and blood leaked from a cut in his lip.
Behind me, gasps of shock abounded.
“I’m recovered,” I said. “Believe me now?”
Those violet eyes slitted when they found me. “Assault and battery is illegal.”
“So have me arrested.”
He closed what little distance there was between us. Suddenly I could feel the warmth of his breath caressing my skin, could smell the decadence of his scent, the heat of his skin. “How about I put you over my lap and spank you instead?”
“How about I knee your balls into your throat?”
“If you’re going to play with that particular area, I’d rather you use your hands.”
“My hands aren’t going near that area ever again.”
A pause. Then, “I bet I could change your mind,” he whispered huskily.
“I bet I could bash yours.” I drew back another fist, but he was ready and caught me midswing. His pupils dilated, a sign of arousal. Another sign: he began to pant. He was acting like I’d just tried to unbuckle his jeans rather than smack the fire out of him.
“Hit me again,” he said, still using that same whispered tone, “and I’ll take it as an invitation.”
I was just as bad. I trembled with longing I couldn’t control and struggled to catch my breath. “An invitation to do what?”
His grip loosened, his fingers rubbing my skin. A caress, not a warning. “I guess we’ll find out together.”
What the heck are you doing?