Page 39 of Masked Instincts

My phone dings in my pocket in the moment of silence.

“Don’t. Eyes on me,” Jax grumbles before I can even think to look at my phone.

I listen. My eyes bore into his.

“See. You’re always such a good girl.” His eyes fill with lust, want, and need. His hands trail down my chin and along the curve of my neck. “You’d look much better listening with your clothes off.”

“I don’t want this,” I swallow.

“You don’t want this,” he stares and anger is lacing his tone. It sounds like it’s coming from the depths of him.

I shake my head at him, suddenly finding the strength to tear away from him. Jax stands there dumbfounded. Something in his eyes changes. He no longer has anger, lust, or anything else he held in those emerald pools. Something along the lines of understanding. He lets his arms fall to his sides before he fidgets and runs his long fingers through his beard.

He looks so damn tired.

“Very well then,” he says.

“You need to take a minute to think about what you want in this life. It’s not healthy. The way you live: demanding and forcing. Take what is offered to you because there isn’t a lot you can do,” I begin. My hands gesture to the house surrounding us. “This is a luxury. To have a mother who loves you enough to help you and wants to see you have what you can given your circumstances.”

His eyes flicker with awareness. My words settle as he realizes that I never had parents who loved me like his mother loves him.

“Live here with me,” Jax blurts out as if he wasn’t expecting to say the words. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to hear them.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t deserve me at your disposal. Plus, I need to finish school. Failing, remember?”

“You just confessed your love for me, so I think I do. Plus, you can finish school from here.”

“Yeah. I do love you, and that’s the tragic truth, but I won’t live here.”

Jax groans like an angry toddler who lost their toy.

I begin to retreat backward, and I fully expect him to fight me for it, but he lets me go completely. I was driven here, but I don’t even care. I’ll follow the woods until I find the road and hitchhike for all I care.

“How are you expecting to get home?” Jax calls out. I stop before the door and turn to look over my shoulder.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“At least let me bring you home,” he pries.

“No, Jax. No. Let me walk out of here. I don’t care if I have to walk.”

“You’ll walk all night and freeze.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

Jax stares at me, anger prominent on his face. I know he’s not angry at me perse, but furious at the danger I’m willing to put myself in. I’m surprised he hasn’t grabbed me and put me over his shoulder like some barbarian.

“Fine. Leave if that is what you so desperately wish for.”

“Don’t make me the bad guy here,” I say with all of my rage filtering through that one line. Before he has time to fight back, I’m out the door.

The wooded area around Jax’s house takes me an hour to walk. An hour of my time and I have barely reached the main road. Now, every time a car drives by me, my body tightens, and my breathing picks up. I’m putting myself in a very vulnerable place, out in the dark, with nothing as a weapon—nothing but the moonlight to lead my way.

When I see headlights from behind me, I duck deeper into the lining of the trees to protect myself from being seen, hopefully.