Page 22 of Immune

Plink.

Plink.

It fills the silence between us until my nerves start fraying at the edges, like they’re trying to chew through my skin. Kaito remains still. A little too still for my liking. There are no sudden movements, no angry demands, no Alpha growling about disrespect. He isn’t even attempting to turn the situation around, not once bursting with dominance to try and push against the thin wall of my control.

You’d think it would make me relax.

You’d be wrong.

I’m far too familiar with waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing ever comes this easy, and I’m not about to let my guard down now, just because he isn’t behaving like the others I’ve encountered over the past six years.

“What’s the actual reason for you following me?” I ask shortly.

“I’ve already told you. I was making sure you were heading somewhere safe, that’s all,” he answers, and I despise how genuine he sounds.

“I don’t believe you,” I admit, not sure if I even believe myself at this point. “It’s a noble reason, but much too suspicious.”

Kaito’s head tilts, his dark hair rustling against the barrel of my gun. “Why? Is it suspicious because I’m an Alpha or because I’m a guy?”

“Yes,” I answer quickly.

One of those funny little choked sounds comes from him again before he strains, “Okay, that’s fair.”

My fingers tighten around the gun. It’s such a simple answer. Fair. No argument, no offense, no wounded male pride charging through the room like an overgrown toddler in combat boots having the temper tantrum of the decade.

Fair.

I actually hate that more than if he tried to argue his case.

“Turn around,” I order bluntly.

Surprising me a little, Kaito slowly turns, his hands still in the air. I step back as he does, keeping my gun aimed at his face. In the dimmed living room, he looks rougher than he did at the school. Blood has soaked through the bandage at his side, dark against his shirt. His black jeans are torn, his dark hair mussed from the fight earlier, and the bruised stain of shadows marks the skin under his almond eyes. It makes his face look sharper somehow. Edgier.

He’s tall, toned, and much too steady for someone currently one bad decision away from getting shot in the forehead.

Kaito’s own gaze flicks over me once. Not down my body, and definitely not in the way that scarred Alpha from the pharmacy did. This is different. He looks at my face, then to the gun, quickly followed by my injured arm, and then the exits. He notices the room before he notices the person holding him at gunpoint, and there’s something interesting about it. Not safe, by any means. But definitely interesting.

“You’re bleeding again,” I point out before I can think better of it.

His lips twitch. “Is that the sound of worry I hear?”

“Just an observation,” I refute.

His lips twitch again, like he’s holding back a smile that’s trying to fight its way through, right as he says, “Huh. Sounds like a fancier word for worry.”

Oh, this asshole.

Narrowing my eyes in an unimpressed glare, I grumble, “Very original. Don’t steal my lines.”

Those damned lips of his quirk a little more, the battle he’s fighting a lost cause at this rate. I raise my gun a little higher, and that smile vanishes entirely. That’s better.

“You can leave now,” I tell him.

He nods. “I could, yeah.”

“You should,” I force out.

“You’re probably right,” he agrees.