47
Savannah
The walls of Jaxson’s apartment shook as he slammed the door shut.
Suffice it to say our escape from Mexico was not our finest hour, but with my shadows, Damian’s wings, and Jaxson’s ability to hotwire a vehicle, we didn’t die.
Frankly, it was a freaking miracle. Maybe Alejandro’s relics were real after all, and a bit of God’s own luck had rubbed off on us. I’d need whatever I could get to deal with the beast in the room.
He stood at the counter, his eyes golden and body rigid. The tension in the air between us was so thick, I swore I could taste it zinging off my tongue, electric and violent.
We’d been deathly silent the entire way home from Damian’s house, but there was no way we were going to outrun this fight.
“You’re angry,” I said flatly. Understatement of the millennium.
“Angry?” He slowly stalked around the room, circling me, his fists clenched. “That was a fucking disaster.”
Indignation tore at me as I backed away. Mixed with the aftereffects of Alejandro drinking my blood, I felt absolutely combustible.
“You say that like it’s my fault. But tell me, Jaxson, what exactly was a disaster? The part where I got us an audience with Alejandro Rivera like we wanted? Or the part where you wolfed out and staked him through the heart before we got the finger?”
His jaw tensed, and his fists tightened. “Alejandro would have drained you dry. Had I known how he’d react, I would have murdered him the moment we arrived.”
There was no doubt he meant every word.
I kept my distance as we circled each other. He watched me like a hunter, ready to strike, and though my instincts rang out, telling me to run, I was glued to him like the Earth orbiting the Sun—a tiny space rock inching closer to its fiery demise.
“In hindsight, it was a bad decision. But it was my decision, not yours,” I said. “And you didn’t have to kill him!”
He approached me slowly, his body shaking with frustration, as we continued our dance. “Do you think Alejandro would have stopped once he’d had a taste of you? I thought maybe it only affected werewolves, but your blood is a drug. Had I let him live, he would have hunted you to the ends of the earth.”
But I knew it was more than that.
My blood heated, and my fingers tingled. “Were you worried about protecting me or about your own ego?”
Resentful fury burned in his eyes. “What do you mean by that? You’re my mate. You were in danger and being tortured before my eyes. My very soul was insane with horror and rage.”
I knew it was true, too. I’d felt his pain, felt his soul dying as he watched while Alejandro helped himself to my blood.
Jaxson had ripped through the magical chains and tore down the wall to protect me. But as much as that made my pulse race, it didn’t excuse his actions.
“You were insane with jealousy and possessiveness,” I hissed.
His jaw tensed. Before I could take a breath, he was in front of me, his hand gripping the back of my head. He tilted my face to his. “That is also true. Because you’re mine.”
His words released an inexplicable shiver of delight along my skin while the electricity of his touch arced through his fingers and sent a burst of heat to my core. My eyes dropped to his lips, inches from mine, begging to be tasted.
But in spite of that, righteous indignation burned under my skin.
“I am nobody’s property.” I twisted out of his grip.
“You know what I mean,” he said gruffly as I evaded his grasp.