Moonlit Feathers by Sarah Makela Page A

cracked his knuckles and threw my other lamp to the side. "You would've liked working for him, and now it just might be too late. But I'm supposed to bring you to him, so don't act dumb. If you do, I might not be able to save you from yourself and your stupid choices."
    I looked toward the window, clenching my fists. There was no way I'd be able to open the door and get out of there without him getting his grubby paws on me. But I really didn't know if I wanted to break through the window again, because if I did, I might be in worse condition than if I just tried to stay and fight him. None of my options were good.
    On top of that, I looked at the things smashed to pieces to see that my picture of Ezra, the one we'd taken together in Eastern Europe, had been crumpled beneath the asshole’s feet like it was trash. I wanted to pick it up and clutch it to my chest. Maybe making out with Cody had been the wrong thing to do. I couldn't help but feel like I'd betrayed Ezra. My heart fell into the pit of my stomach, and I wanted to just sob. My life was falling apart.
    The thug stalked closer to me, and I took a few steps backward. I'd done all I could to distance myself from the world, and now I was surrounded by people who’d somehow found my personal information, and who I didn't want any part of dealing with. What had I done to deserve this? I'd turned clients down before, and no one had ever come after me because of it. I grabbed a candlestick from a side table and turned back toward the glass door. I swung it back, but before I could hit the pane, I was pulled back by my T-shirt and thrown to the floor.
    I stared up at the big man, who had taken the candlestick from me. He lifted it up as if to hit me with it, but instead he threw it to the side. I jerked to my feet in a graceful flow of movement and lunged after the makeshift weapon, but before I could get far, pain exploded in the back of my head. I collapsed to the floor, darkness swallowing my existence.

Chapter Sixteen
     
    Cody
    I'd walked far enough into the forest that I could have some distance from her, and she wouldn’t catch sight of me changing from her living room. The idea of her watching me strip just didn't do it for me right now. After that argument, all I wanted to do was punch something, but I’d settle for the next best thing: running as fast and as far as I could, and just burning off all the negative energy I was feeling. Going back there wouldn't help anything. It'd only make our tension flare that much higher, and unfortunately this tension wasn't the kind I'd been hoping for when we'd settled into the evening. My coyote wanted to feel her body pressed up against us, not have her tell us to leave and push us away the way she had. Her scent lingered inside my head, in my nose, and I found it hard not to long to smell it again.
    I growled under my breath and kicked a nearby tree. It groaned a little under the assault, but I had a feeling that in the morning I'd be feeling the impact a lot more than the tree would. I patted the trunk, remembering my grandmother's teaching that all things had life in them. If that was true, I shouldn't be taking out my anger on a tree. What the hell was wrong with me?
    Leaning up against the tree trunk, I stared up into the branches. My emotions were so off-kilter that I was having a hard time recognizing myself. The full moon wasn’t for a few weeks, so that wasn't the problem. I glanced back into the trees toward town. If I wanted to leave, I should be going. I stripped my shirt off, folded it, and put it in the small duffel bag I'd shoved in my back pocket while I'd been in the house with her.
    I’d unbuttoned my jeans, and was just about to push them off, when my sensitive ears picked up a loud crash and a scream. I fastened my pants back up and took off toward the house, cursing myself for leaving her. This was one of the things I'd feared, and it was my fault for flying off the handle in the first place. I was