Page 196 of Problematic

The helplessness I felt burned away in one hard rush.

The same powerless body that men kept underestimating heated from the mark down, hunger waking under my skin with a slow, vicious stretch.

I stood.

Something that had been asleep under bills, bad coffee, old loneliness, and every year I had spent making myself invisible was waking up.

The floor trembled.

A glass rattled in the sink. The new couch groaned under the shift. Somewhere under the building, pipes clanked hard enough to make Sam gasp.

Heat flooded my skin. Hunger followed, old and bright and vicious, curling through my stomach, up my throat, into my mouth. My tail lashed once behind me. My eyes burned hot.

“I might be upset with him,” I said.

The walls shook. Kalon took one step back.

I lifted my chin.

“But no one touches my mate like that.”

Chapter 29

Liv

“We’re going to get him back,” I blurted, which was a problem, because, fun fact, I had no idea how we were going to do that.

Mandi stared at me from beside the television, one hand holding the remote, her mouth half open and viciously delighted in a way that suggested she had been waiting years for one of us to snap into our villain era.

Sam looked scared, and Kalon looked sick.

He stood near my door, broad shoulders tight, blond hair falling over his forehead. “I’m going with you,” Kalon said.

My head jerked toward him.

His jaw flexed. “I won’t let you do this alone.”

My tail, traitorous little nightmare ribbon, curled around my ankle as if it too had concerns about my leadership.

“Kalon.”

“No.” His voice stayed calm, but his hands were not. His fingers flexed once, then stilled. “I came because Vale ordered your protection before everything went dark. I stayed because you are my friend. I am not here for Lux. I am not here because of a command. I am here for you.”

“You know this is stupid.”

His mouth pulled tight. “Painfully.”

“And you’re still coming?”

“Absolutely.”

I swallowed.

Kalon’s phone vibrated against his hip. He pulled it free, though it was not the sleek personal phone I had seen him use before. This one was thick, black, and ugly enough to survive being thrown through a wall.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Old Guard channel.”