Page 81 of Death Rydes Shotgun

Xander shifts closer, his hand sliding up from my arm to gently cup the side of my face, his thumb wiping away a tear from my cheek.

I freeze.

The air between us turns strangely thick and heavy.

I lift my head, looking into his eyes, expecting to see the same quiet sympathy he’s shown me for the last thirty minutes.

Instead, I glimpse something else. A dark, opportunistic hunger.

Before I can process the shift, Xander leans in, tilting his head as his lips press firmly against mine.

Shock electrifies my system.

I immediately put both hands against his chest and shove him backward with every ounce of strength I have left, breaking the contact.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, scrambling backward in the mud, my gaze wide.

Xander stumbles back onto his heels, looking mildly surprised, but a slow, irritated smile quickly replaces his sympathetic mask.

His voice shifts from gentle to a smooth, compelling tone that he thinks will draw me in. “Harmony, come on. You’re hurt, you’re shivering... I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

“No.” My tone laces with absolute boundaries.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my wet sleeve, my stomach churning. “You’re completely misunderstanding the situation, Xander. My best friend was just murdered tonight. I’m grieving. I’m not looking for that kind of connection.”

Xander stays crouched, but his posture changes. The easygoing, helpful guy from the road vanishes, replaced by a cold, entitled douche bag.

He scoffs softly, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at me in the dim light.

“Misunderstanding?” His bitter laugh cuts through the fog. “Harmony, I just drove you miles out of my way in a freezing rainstorm at three in the morning. I walked you deep into the middle of nowhere, into a pitch-black forest with a killer on the loose, just so you could talk to an old well.”

I stare at him, a sickening knot tightening in my chest as I realize the turn this is taking.

“Well, who the fuck asked you to pull over, Xander?”

My blood boils over at his audacity.

“I was being nice.” Xander takes a slow step toward me, his eyes locking onto mine with the intensity of a pressure cooker. “I helped you. I gave you my coat. I think I deserve at least a little appreciation for everything I’ve done for you tonight. You owe me at least a kiss.”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing.” My fear instantly morphs into a cold, defensive rage.

I reach underneath my sweater, my fingers wrapping tightly around the cold, familiar leather hilt of my father’s hunting knife.

“Back away from me, Xander. Right now.”

Xander’s gaze drops down to where my hand rests under my top, catching the metallic flash of the pommel sticking out beneath my sweater.

A sharp, ugly chuckle escapes him, his demeanor souring into pure disdain. “Are you serious right now?”

He sneers, taking another aggressive step forward, closing the space between us until he looms directly over me.

“You’re going to pull a weapon on me? After I gave you a ride? After I listened to you whine about your dead friend all night? You women are all the same. You act like you want help, but the second a guy expects a little basic human gratitude, you turn into psychotic, ungrateful bitches.”

My pulse thumps loudly in my ears, a bitter, metallic taste coating my tongue. “I said, back the fuck up. I won’t tell you again.”

“Or what, Harmony?” Xander leans down close, his hot breath hitting my cheek, completely ignoring the boundary I set. “You’re going to stab me? With your trembling, perfectly manicured hands? You don’t have the guts. You couldn’t even save Blaire, and you sure as hell couldn’t save Noah. You’re just a broken, pathetic little girl hiding in the woods.”

His words hit like he just stabbed me in the chest, tearing fresh gashes through my raw heart.