the paper, then freaked and smoothed it back out again. He brought it to his nose. It smelt like her. So little to say, but the essence floored him. She cared. She truly did. But why such a short note? Had he pissed her off again? He could see her railing at him, ranting and swearing at him for leaving—for taking too long to get back—but this note didn’t convey anything beyond concern.
She had to be safe. He just needed to find her. Go to LA. Start there. Maybe. How could she get there? Had she learned to shift?
Confused, frustrated and needing to hit something, he stalked from the room, already planning his next move. First go to the coffee shop here, then go to LA. If she was there—
He growled and tossed everything from his worktable, watching the neat piles of books land on the floor and knock into the trash bin, spilling its contents.
Did she want him? What did she mean leaving him such a short note for fuck’s sakes? Where was the passion, the fury at him he’d witnessed before? Had he blown everything by leaving her alone? She’d barely been able to drink bagged blood with his help each time. What if she hadn’t been able to drink without him?
He kicked the trash bin on his way to the fridge, stumbled and landed on his face. “Shit!” One of the crumpled papers from the trash rolled near him. He immediately recognising Joey’s flowing script and reached for it.
Damn it! I waited and waited for you Jaxon! I am so pissed at you. How could you do this? Rip out my heart again! Wasn’t it enough the first time, you jerk?
She did love him. She did. Holy hell, did she love him.
Relief shot down his body, making him weaker than when he’d dug himself out of that salt tomb. He fell back on the stone floor with his arms wide, then rolled over and crawled to where he’d scattered more balled-up pieces of paper. He found ten more scratched-out notes, all in different degrees of cussing him out or crying over him being hurt and her unable to come to him.
Shit. He stumbled to his feet, slipped on the paper, hit his knee on the floor, but jumped back up, already racing to his closet. He had to go. He had to find her. Grinning like a crazy man, he flattened each note, folded them neatly and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He’d find her. Oh, man, would he find her. Fighting was over for him, at least for a while. At least until he trained her to stand by his side. He shoved his hair off his eyes and scanned the room. She belonged here, with him.
Soon, soon, baby, I’m going to find you and damn, I’m going to enjoy making this up to you.
Chapter Nine
Joey stared at Evan’s pale, almost blue face. The song by The Fray, Never Say Never , played on the radio, making this harder than it already was for her.
Evan had always been so full of happiness. His easy smile and laughing eyes had always been there for her when life had just been too hard. His warm personality and intelligence had aided her through some rough times. Odd that when she’d returned home to Washington, she’d not sought him out.
Maybe because this was just a pit stop. Not a full return. How could it be? She shouldn’t have come. She should have never come.
Now, Evan was dead.
Would she have missed this? This new pain? First Jaxon, then her granddad and now Evan. There was no one else. Not one person she could call or go to and know they understood her, let alone cared enough to drop whatever they were doing and be there for her.
No one ever had.
She brushed his blond hair off his forehead. He’d always done that—shoved his hair off his brow—if he’d not been wearing his cowboy hat. An image of him, smiling at her from a fence, popped into her mind. They’d been at a rodeo. She’d run barrels, he’d ridden a bull. She’d been terrified and excited for him in equal measure. He’d won first place, and she’d hugged him tight afterwards. She could even remember his warm, safe heartbeat against her. The
She had to be safe. He just needed to find her. Go to LA. Start there. Maybe. How could she get there? Had she learned to shift?
Confused, frustrated and needing to hit something, he stalked from the room, already planning his next move. First go to the coffee shop here, then go to LA. If she was there—
He growled and tossed everything from his worktable, watching the neat piles of books land on the floor and knock into the trash bin, spilling its contents.
Did she want him? What did she mean leaving him such a short note for fuck’s sakes? Where was the passion, the fury at him he’d witnessed before? Had he blown everything by leaving her alone? She’d barely been able to drink bagged blood with his help each time. What if she hadn’t been able to drink without him?
He kicked the trash bin on his way to the fridge, stumbled and landed on his face. “Shit!” One of the crumpled papers from the trash rolled near him. He immediately recognising Joey’s flowing script and reached for it.
Damn it! I waited and waited for you Jaxon! I am so pissed at you. How could you do this? Rip out my heart again! Wasn’t it enough the first time, you jerk?
She did love him. She did. Holy hell, did she love him.
Relief shot down his body, making him weaker than when he’d dug himself out of that salt tomb. He fell back on the stone floor with his arms wide, then rolled over and crawled to where he’d scattered more balled-up pieces of paper. He found ten more scratched-out notes, all in different degrees of cussing him out or crying over him being hurt and her unable to come to him.
Shit. He stumbled to his feet, slipped on the paper, hit his knee on the floor, but jumped back up, already racing to his closet. He had to go. He had to find her. Grinning like a crazy man, he flattened each note, folded them neatly and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He’d find her. Oh, man, would he find her. Fighting was over for him, at least for a while. At least until he trained her to stand by his side. He shoved his hair off his eyes and scanned the room. She belonged here, with him.
Soon, soon, baby, I’m going to find you and damn, I’m going to enjoy making this up to you.
Chapter Nine
Joey stared at Evan’s pale, almost blue face. The song by The Fray, Never Say Never , played on the radio, making this harder than it already was for her.
Evan had always been so full of happiness. His easy smile and laughing eyes had always been there for her when life had just been too hard. His warm personality and intelligence had aided her through some rough times. Odd that when she’d returned home to Washington, she’d not sought him out.
Maybe because this was just a pit stop. Not a full return. How could it be? She shouldn’t have come. She should have never come.
Now, Evan was dead.
Would she have missed this? This new pain? First Jaxon, then her granddad and now Evan. There was no one else. Not one person she could call or go to and know they understood her, let alone cared enough to drop whatever they were doing and be there for her.
No one ever had.
She brushed his blond hair off his forehead. He’d always done that—shoved his hair off his brow—if he’d not been wearing his cowboy hat. An image of him, smiling at her from a fence, popped into her mind. They’d been at a rodeo. She’d run barrels, he’d ridden a bull. She’d been terrified and excited for him in equal measure. He’d won first place, and she’d hugged him tight afterwards. She could even remember his warm, safe heartbeat against her. The
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