The scent of her desire wrapped around me. I held still, waiting for the feel of her teeth on my skin.
Anger replaced desire in a wave.
“Did you maybe forget to mention that biting you would have meant we were engaged?” she said.
A growl ripped out of me at the realization she wasn’t going to Claim me.
“Yeah, that’s how I feel. What was that run last night? Another trick?”
She pushed at me, and when I didn’t move, she pinched the inside of my bicep. I winced and pulled away.
“I don’t like liars, Carlos. Watch yourself.”
She picked up her bag and stormed off toward the stairs. I grabbed my bag and trailed behind her. I hadn’t lied. She never asked questions about me or our relationship. Yet, I knew what she meant. I would make sure she was aware of my intent next time. Because there would be a next time.
When we reached the lobby, the rest were already outside near the vehicles. They started loading up as soon as Isabelle pushed the door open. She stopped just outside, her hands fisted at her sides.
I walked out and started toward the car.
“I’m not getting in the car with you,” she said.
I stopped walking but didn’t turn.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not following the rule.”
I turned to study her.
“What rule?”
“The don’t-touch-Isabelle-or-she’ll-break-your-damn-hand rule.” She glared at me, angry and wanting a fight. I didn’t fall for it. I saw behind the anger.
Slowly, I closed the distance between us.
“You’re afraid,” I said.
Her face flushed, and she brushed past me on her way to the car. She yanked the door open, got in, and slammed it closed, making it clear that I was in for another long, silent ride.
For three hours, she looked out the window with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. The whole time I tried to figure out how I could make things better between us. The trouble was that I didn’t fully understand the problem.
“What is it you don’t like about me?” I finally asked, risking annoying her further.
“Your persistence.”
I glanced at her, unsure what she meant.
“I don’t understand why you keep trying,” she said. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’m not biting you. I’m not dating you. I’m not doing anything with you.”
“Okay.” Despite her heated words, I’d smelled her desire in the hallway and knew it hadn’t been due to my emotions. That had been her. Her real feelings for me. This was her fear talking.
“I just want you happy,” I admitted.
“Then just be my friend,” she said quietly. “I need one.”
Her gaze pleaded for me to understand. And I did.
“All right.” I would be anything she needed me to be when she needed it.
After that, she relaxed. We drove for a while longer, stopped for another group fight lesson, and then continued driving on until lunch.
The restaurant was like many others before it, a little ma-and-pa place. Isabelle and I were the first ones to the entrance.
I held the door for her and watched her look around the small dining room. Of the ten tables, three of them were already taken. I moved to the clear side of the room and pulled out a chair for her. She gave me a small smile and sat.
The jump in her pulse was easy to hear as I sat across from her.
“Can we sit with you?” Michelle asked, coming toward us. Emmitt stood just behind her.
“Sure,” Isabelle said.
Michelle gave Isabelle a shy smile as they joined us.
“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being hard on you,” Isabelle said. I knew she was referring to the roadside practices. Isabelle’s instruction often came out harshly due to her frustration at their lack of skill.
“You are being hard on us, but I understand why.” Michelle’s understanding changed to pity. “I’m really sorry about Ethan.”
Grief swelled from Isabelle as she nodded.
“Bethi said you two grew up together. How did you meet?” Michelle asked.
A smile tugged Isabelle’s lips as she explained.
“At school. On the playground. He was the new kid, two grades older. He wasn’t like the other kids who’d fall asleep if I tried to play with them. He was angry. All the time. He took a ball from a girl I knew. When I asked him to give it back, he tried hitting me. I was already in self-defense classes so I blocked it. It was our first spar.”
“How did you learn self-defense without putting the instructor to sleep?” Michelle asked.
“Back then, my pull wasn’t as strong unless I really tried. Plus, grownups hide what they feel more than kids do. Where I put a kid to sleep, a grownup usually barely felt it. It wasn’t until I hit my teens that what I could do grew stronger.”
The waitress came over with waters for everyone and asked if we wanted anything else to drink as she handed us menus.
“We’re fine. Thank you,” Emmitt answered.
We all heard Jim say, “We’re going to starve,” just then.
Charlene shushed him.
“He misses Liam and Aden,” Emmitt said.
“Who are Liam and Aden?” Isabelle asked.
“My brothers,” Michelle said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a photo of two little boys standing in the spray of a sprinkler. “This is from last summer.”
Pride and love clouded around her.
“They mean a lot to you,” Isabelle said, studying their faces.
“The world. That’s why I’m here. Blake, the man controlling the Urbat, kept me prisoner for my premonitions. He used my brothers to keep me in line.”
Isabelle frowned.
“Where are your brothers now?” she asked.
“Somewhere safe, I hope.”
I felt a slight tug at the wall as Isabelle breathed in. As I watched, Michelle’s mood shifted from melancholy to contentment. Isabelle handed the photo back to her, and they talked about Michelle’s brothers a bit more while the waitress slowly took everyone’s orders.
When it came to Isabelle, she asked for a simple BLT, no fries. It wasn’t enough. Or it shouldn’t have been.
The waitress brought the food, and I watched Isabelle nibble her way into half of the sandwich. Each time Jim made a sound of enthusiasm, Isabelle moved her shoulder as if trying to shrug off an unwanted hand.
Tell Jim to contain his emotions. I think he’s wearing on Isabelle.
As soon as she finished that half, she scowled at Jim and rubbed her face.
“Are you all right?” Michelle asked.
“I want to kill Jim,” Isabelle mumbled through her hands.
So did I. Michelle patted Isabelle’s arm sympathetically.
“I’ve been there. Hungover because of Jim, I mean.”
“And because of yourself,” Jim said from the other side of the room.
“Quiet,” Charlene said in a low voice.
“Do you want something for your head?” Michelle asked.
Isabelle dropped her hands and looked around the room. She had everyone’s attention.
“No. I think I’ll just step outside for a while.”
She turned a shade paler as she stood and made her way outside. She hadn’t seemed so hungover prior to stopping. I rose and trailed behind her. She took a deep breath just outside the door then moved away from the building, walking toward the sparse trees near the back of the property. She gagged near the dumpsters, which weren’t too bad, then leaned against the first tree she came to.
“It’s more than a hangover, isn’t it?” I asked.
She jumped slightly.
“The hangover isn’t helping. I think I’m more sensitive to everyone’s moods because of it.”
I walked around her so I could see her face.
“Then we need to do something about it.”
She cringed.
“I’ll throw up if I have to spar. I just need a few minutes.”
I studied her increasingly pale face and shook my head.
“No, I think waiting will make it worse.”
“I’m not fighting, Carlos.”
“What if you tried pushing again?”
She frowned.
“We’re too close to people.”
“Then let’s go for a walk.” I held out my hand.
She glanced at the offering then ignored it and strode further into the trees. I went with her.
“It would be better if I did this alone. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I was fine yesterday.”
“Fine. Stay.”
We were a good way in when she stopped. She looked up at a squirrel that chittered at us from its branch above.
“You know, I’m going to be really upset if dead rodents start falling on my head because of this.”
I stayed behind her and watched her roll her shoulders and try to relax. It didn’t work. I could see tension in her shoulders and the way she held her hands at her sides. She took several slow breaths then turned to look at me.
“Why isn’t it working?”
“What’s different from last night and today?
She shrugged.
“Last night you were more relaxed,” I said.
“I’m trying to relax.”
“But you’re still worrying. You need to let it all go.”
“You think I’m worrying? About what?”
“Hurting me. Hurting the squirrel.”
She looked up at the squirrel again, sighed, then turned to me with her hands fisted and up. I immediately did the same.
“I might puke on you. If I do, I’m really sorry.”
“I can handle it.”
“I can’t.” She executed a loose jab, which I swatted away. She needed to try, or she would never feel better. So I swung at her. It was an obvious swing. One she could see and block. But it did the job. It annoyed her.
“What the hell?”
“Fight,” I said.
“I hope I do puke on you.” Then she started to swing like she meant it.
She gagged twice within two minutes, but I was quick to move away. After that, some of her color started to return, and I picked up the pace.
“Do you know what?” she said, dancing out of the way of my swing.
“What?”
I blocked the next jab to my head.
“I want a sandwich. Just a plain ‘ol PB and J.”
Her request surprised me, delaying my block, and her fist clipped my jaw. The green fire left her eyes, replaced by concern. Concern wouldn’t drain her. So I pressed her, swinging faster than we usually sparred. The worry left as she struggled to keep up.
“What kind of jelly?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m just tired of the heavy restaurant food. And I want cereal for breakfast.”
She stepped back suddenly, and I stopped.
“I’m done. For now. If I get any sweatier, it will just annoy me more than we’re helping me.”
I nodded.
“Thanks, Carlos.”
My heart gave a squeeze.
“Anytime, Isabelle.”
It finally felt like we’d made some real progress. Like there was an “us” in our future.
She started back toward the restaurant and killed some of my contentment with her next question.
“Would it be all right with you if Winifred and Bethi took your place in the car? Just for a little while?”
“Why?”
“I have some questions.” She sounded nervous, and it took a moment to realize what questions she might have that she wouldn’t want me to hear.
“All right. When it gets to be too much, tell Winifred to let me know. We can stop for a break.”
“Thanks,” she said, glancing at me.
An unexpected grin tugged her lips, and her scent sweetened enticingly. Why?
“You’re happy,” I commented, opening the door for her.
“I am. I think I just had a brilliant idea.”
She didn’t explain. Instead, she went inside and smiled at Bethi, who was watching for Isabelle. While she went to ask about the driving arrangements, I asked the waitress for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to go.
Isabelle would like you to drive for a while, I sent Winifred.
Why?
I think she wants to talk to you about Mating.