Free I Thought It Was You by Shiloh Walker Page B

ass?”
    â€œHmmm. No. No, I don’t think I do. Are you going to get tired of pretending to be the polite host when we both know you want to boot me out on my arse?” Ren replied, kicking back and propping his feet on the table. Even as he said it, he told himself to shut the hell up.
    But for some reason, he couldn’t.
    He had an angry, edgy beast in his belly, and he couldn’t shut it up.
    It wasn’t just jealousy, but that sure as hell was part of it.
    Even though he knew in his gut, in his heart, that he didn’t love Elle the way Michael did. Even though he knew in his heart that Elle hadn’t ever loved him the way she loved the man before him.
    Jealousy, loneliness, rage, it was a bad, ugly mix and it prodded him to uncoil from his chair and move to stand in front of Michael, cocking a brow at him and giving him a wide, taunting smile.
    â€œCome on, mate—can’t be easy having me here, after all. You just got her back after how many years? A few centuries? And she’s spent much of the past hundred years with me …”
    â€œIf you’re trying to pick a fight with me, it’s not going to work,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I might not much like you, but I know she does—you matter to her, and I’ll be damned if I do something to hurt her.”
    Those words were as effective as a sucker punch—or a splash of cold water.
    Spinning away from Michael, Ren snarled.
    Fuck . One hand curled into a fist, and if he hadn’t been the middle of what he could tell was a pretty, rather new kitchen, he might have punched a hole through a wall.
    Darkness edged in on his mind, pushing at him, hard, fast.
    Too hard.
    â€œMy apologies,” he bit off, his voice harsh and brittle. “I’m…not myself.”
    It took every last bit of his control just to force those words out before he started for the back door. Yes, he fucking knew he was supposed to be waiting here for some so-called assignment, but Will was out of his mind if he thought this was a safe arrangement for Ren’s state of mind.
    It wasn’t like his state of mind was stable even in the best of times.
    â€œDamn it, Ren…”
    Abruptly, a hand touched his arm.
    It was a smaller hand, softer, yet strong.
    Familiar.
    â€œThom.”
    Looking down, he met Elle’s brilliant blue eyes.
    Swallowing, he shook his head and said, “This was a bad idea, me coming here, princess. Go back to your prince charming and leave me be. Will can find me when it’s time and I’ll trot on back here like the good angel boy he wants me to be. But for now, just leave me the fuck alone.”
    â€œNo.” Then she moved in closer and slid an arm around his waist, pressing her golden head against his naked chest. As she pressed her cheek against him, she said, “What is wrong, Thom? You’re in chaos—I feel it.”
    Chaos .
    The blackness of his mind tried to edge closer, and memories—so unwanted, so unwelcome—tried to overtake him.
    He sucked in a breath, and for some reason he felt something draw tight around his throat, although it had been years—more than a century, really, since that had happened. And he didn’t even remember that, not truly.
    Get a fucking grip .
    He heard a gasp. The hands touching him fell away and he stumbled, his shoulders slamming against the wood and glass of the back door.
    Voices rose, but he barely heard them.
    Swearing, he lifted his hands, pressed them to his eyes.
    No, no, no, no, no…
    Vaguely, he heard Elle, recognized her voice.
    Heard Michael, sensed the fear and concern there.
    â€œDamn it, would you just stop it? I’m not leaving him like this!”
    But he couldn’t think about that—had to focus.
    Then she was here again, her hands gripping his wrists, forcing his hands down from his face, those large, lovely eyes of blue gazing into his. “Thom…damn it, Thomas,