Taste of Torment by Suzanne Wright Page B

condition. But no. For the past five days, Jared had been nothing but positive and optimistic. Maybe refusing to accept the possibility that Evan might die was his way of facing it, of dealing with it, and avoid falling apart.
    My way of dealing with it? I didn’t have one.
    With a groan, I let my head flop down onto the desk. My forehead met the oak with a thud. Ow.
    There was a sigh that – annoyingly – had a trace of amusement in it. “Come here, baby.”
    “No.” I was quite comfortable where I was.
    “Why?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
    “I don’t need a reason.”
    “Come on, come to me.”
    “I’m busy.”
    “You’re going to end up with a red mark on your head.”
    “So will you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
    He chuckled. “That’s my girl. Now come over here.”
    I finally lifted my head. “What do you want?”
    “To hold you. I’ve missed you.” He gave me a meaningful look that I easily interpreted. It was fair to say that I had been snappy and impatient with everyone, even him, for the past few days. Rather than taking the let’s-face-this-together approach and allowing us to be each other’s strength, I had emotionally pulled away. It was in my nature to deal with things alone, to disappear into my own head while I worked it out. I was a ‘thinker’, my dad had always said. I’d silently ponder over things, explore the matter in my mind, rather than confide in anyone. It was a good thing, really, since my parents hadn’t exactly been interested in anything I was thinking or feeling. My conception had been an accident, a bad accident, and they had never let me forget it.
    But retreating into my own head wasn’t fair to Jared, was it? Not now that we were Bound.
    What made me feel even guiltier was that he hadn’t complained, hadn’t even commented on it, despite that he must have wanted me with him one hundred percent right now. He’d given me that time, that space. But that time was apparently over. With a heavy exhale, I rose from my seat and went to him.
    He swivelled his chair to face me and gripped my hips, pulling me to stand between his legs. “Hey,” he said gently.
    Resting my hands on his shoulders, I bit my lower lip. “I’m sorry.”
    Slipping his hands under my t-shirt, he pressed them against my back to pull me closer. “So you’re done?” No judgmental words or looks; only total understanding – now I felt even guiltier. “I know you’re worried about the guys. I wouldn’t expect anything different. But you’re letting the stress of it all get the better of you.” Again there was no judgement there. “I hate seeing you like this.”
    I understood, since – likewise – I’d hated seeing him an absolute wreck after the wacko brothers had kidnapped me.
    He squeezed my hip gently. “You don’t have to go it alone when shit happens, Sam. Not anymore. I’m here.”
    “It’s like a mental reflex, but I’ll work on it.”
    “Good, because I want my mate back. I miss her. I miss her giving me attitude, and teasing me, and cursing me to hell and back.”
    My smile mirrored his. “And she’s missed you.”
    “That’s an extremely good thing because I plan t o ” He paused at the knock on the door. “Yes?”
    “Antonio is here to see you,” announced Fletcher. There was an odd note to his voice that made me frown.
    Jared rose to his feet. “Let him in.”
    Antonio breezed into the room with his guards and pit-bulls in tow. He also had two unfamiliar Kejas with him. “Sam, Jared…I would like you to meet Eloise Montana and Fredrick Collins.” Really? Because he didn’t sound as if he’d like us to meet them at all. In fact, he didn’t appear pleased about their presence either. “Fredrick is also one of my vampires.”
    “I’m the first vampire he ever sired,” added Collins, cocky and self-satisfied by that fact.
    I hadn’t met many vampires that had been sired by Antonio, so I was instantly curious about him. The