Page 81 of Scarlet Wars
Sean’s grin widened.
Crap. He’d caught me staring at his best friend. Obviously.
“No idea what you mean,” I said stiffly.
Sean leaned back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes glinted with amusement. “Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not convinced.
“Drop it.”
“I mean,” he drawled, “if ye want to talk about it?—”
“Drop it, Sean.”
“Talk about all those warm mushy feelings ye have?—”
“I will slit your throat,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “I’m sure ye will.”
I snatched the nearest piece of bread and launched it at his head.
He ducked with insulting ease, laughter spilling out as it smacked harmlessly against the wall.
“Missed,” he said, grinning like an idiot.
My vision narrowed. “Next time, I’m aiming for your dick.”
His grin only widened. “Big enough target to hit. Even for ye.”
I flipped him off without looking back, already moving toward the door.
My steps were clipped, and I barely made it a few steps out of kitchen before someone grabbed me, and yanked me into an abandoned room.
The door slammed shut behind us, James’s grip releasing but his presence still pressing in close.
“We need to talk,” he growled, while vibrating with barely checked anger.
I arched a brow, already bracing for the lecture. “Then by all means, talk.”
He closed the distance in two steps, and on instinct I edged back.
“You’ve been shutting out your grief for weeks,” he bit out. “Burying every dark emotion, instead of dealing with it like a godsdamn adult.”
I snorted and flicked my hand.
A solid stone translated into his palm. His hard expression faltered for a second, caught off guard.
I shrugged. “Seemed like you were about to throw some stones in this glass house you’ve built. Thought I’d get you started.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked once before he translated the rock away with a snap. “You think I’m joking about this? I’m serious, Emma. You can’t keep bottling this shit up until it spills out of you in the middle of a fucking battlefield.”
I crossed my arms, my glare clashing with his. “How I cope with my emotions is none of your business.”
“The hell it is!” he snapped. “It is when your way of coping means strangling every human who so much as breathes wrong in your direction.”
I rolled my eyes. “My gods, James. I strangledoneperson. And he’s not even dead. I mean…he might wheeze a bit every time he climbs a flight of stairs now, but that feels more like character development than manslaughter.”
James blinked, disbelief flickering across his face. “How can you be so cavalier about this? This is not who you are.”
