Home > Roman (Wolves of Winter's Edge #2)(5)

Roman (Wolves of Winter's Edge #2)(5)
Author: T.S. Joyce

Blaire had stopped crying, and the smell of pain and black magic dissipated as Mila stroked her fiery locks away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” Blaire said suddenly, sitting up. “I panicked, but I’m okay now.”

Mila would have had an easier time believing her if Blaire didn’t still have blood on her face. Gentry’s mate began scrubbing her face with snow so Mila stood up and dusted off her jeans. “You should tell him.”

“He’s got so much on his plate right now with settling the inn and re-opening Winter’s Edge. I don’t want to worry him more. I’ll figure it out. I’m just new and bad at Changes, but I’ll learn.”

Mila didn’t know how it worked for Turned wolves—not many humans survived the bite—but she was pretty sure it shouldn’t be this hard for Blaire to call her wolf. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the bar.”

“Okay,” Blaire said quietly as she wiped her face on the sleeve of her black sweater.

“Look, Gentry will smell the blood on you.” Mila shrugged one shoulder up. “You’ll have to hide that stuff better. And maybe talk to the witch about what she did to your wolf.”

Blaire’s gaze flicked to Mila and then away into the woods as she began walking back toward Winter’s Edge. “If you were me, would you ask Odine for help?”

A moment of memory from the night Odine had bound Mila to Rangeley was enough to warrant a quick response. “Hell no.”

Blaire gave a sad smile. “I’ll figure it out on my own.” Her voice held a false note to it, though, as if she didn’t really believe that herself.

Roman stood leaned against the building near the side entrance when Mila came out of the tree line.

Blaire gave her a little wave and tromped around the building, but Roman was watching the redhead with narrowed eyes. He scented the air, his nostrils flaring slightly as he lifted his chin. “Is she okay?” he asked Mila.

Mila couldn’t lie to a werewolf, so she shrugged and made a beeline for the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” Roman asked, trailing her.

“Home.”

“Why?”

“Because I shouldn’t be here.”

“But you are here. You got up early and put on those cute fucking clothes, that cute fucking scarf, and that pink, little hat. Even matched your lip gloss to it, didn’t you? For me?”

“Roman, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

He drew up in front of her and planted his feet, stopping her in her tracks. “You’re different than before. You feel different. Still a chicken but…more.”

“Games, Roman. I still don’t play them.”

“Yet you’re here,” he said lifting his chin higher. The man was standing so close she could feel his body warmth through her layers. He’d always run hotter than any person she’d ever met. She’d forgotten about that. Hot Roman, she used to call him in her diary. Hot as a Roman candle.

“Five minutes. Come on,” he urged. “There are three people in there applying for jobs, and they are all boring as hell.” His lip snarled up with mischief. “If I’m going to work that bar, I want someone fun to play with.”

Irritated, she dared a quick look to his eyes before she ducked her gaze again. Her wolf was reacting strangely to Roman’s. Cowering, but she wanted to be closer. It was as if she couldn’t make up her mind, and it was putting Mila in an uncomfortable in-between state of fight and flight. “So you aren’t leaving then?”

“Oh, I’ll leave as soon as I’m able, Chicken. Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun while I’m in town.”

Mila shook her head, angry at how much his flippant talk about leaving again hurt her. She knew better than to get attached to a Striker. Runners, the lot of them. That had been the point of her warning him, right? To chase him off? To save him from Rhett’s wrath? To save him from the teeth of the Bone-Rippers? So why was she angry that he had admitted he was leaving soon?

Because you’re broken.

She huffed a sharp breath and sidestepped around him. “Good luck hiring for Winter’s Edge. You’ll have this place crawling with humans in no time.”

“Whoo, you sounded bitter just then. Did you hear yourself? Since when did it become us and them, hmm? Humans and wolves.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, Roman. Things are different in this town now. It’s not like the outside world anymore. It’s best to stay separate.” She gave a glance to the front door. Blaire was inside that building scrubbing the rest of the blood from her face in the bathroom. She’d been human, and healthy, and now look. Mixing got people killed, both wolves and humans.

“I’ll drive,” Roman said, hooking an arm around her waist and steering her away from her black Jetta toward a silver Jeep Wrangler. It was a monster, big tires, black-out rims, mud flaps, cable hooks on the front for hauling people out of ditches, the works. Sharp icicles that hung from the front end looked like teeth.

“Drive us where? I thought you had interviews.”

“Asher can handle them. He loves social interaction.” Roman laughed at his own joke, and despite herself, Mila cracked a grin. The oldest Striker brother had never loved people. “There’s this breakfast place I want to try. Jack’s. You heard of it?” Roman asked, bumping her shoulder.

She locked her legs against any forward motion and frowned at his back as he kept walking. “What are you doing?”

   
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