Page 87 of Burning Embers
For some reason, Desiree’s words from before pop to the forefront of my mind.
“I’m just saying, if you freak out or get jealous, you’re going to scare her away.”
Did Desiree somehowknowthis was going to happen? Did she have a vision?
Does she know that Izzy is my mate?
Ourmate?
Question after question swirls around in my mind, and having something to focus on calms me down some. The rage bubbling in my chest turns to a low fizzle instead of an inferno of heat.
“Em?” Izzy’s soft, worried voice trails across my skin like fingertips.
My body instantly relaxes just at the sound of it.
I glance down, grateful to see that my claws and fur have both receded, and then do a quick mental inventory. Confident I’m not going to wolf out and attack the entire school, I spin towards her with a cocksure grin.
“Hey, pretty girl.” I try my damnedest not to look at the number painted on her cheek.
Fuck, she looks gorgeous. Her shirt hangs off one shoulder, revealing the dark strap of her bra, and her skirt moves like pools of ink around her thighs when she walks.
“You okay?” she asks with concern.
No doubt, I looked like a complete idiot with my forehead pressed to the locker and my hands curled into fists to hide my growing claws.
I sling an arm around her shoulders and begin to guide her towards her first class of the day.
Is it creepy to admit I have her schedule memorized?
Probably. But I’m not looking into that too closely.
“Of course.” I roll my eyes as if to say she has no reason to worry and then flash her a toothy grin. “Just worried about the game tonight.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to kick ass.” She pauses, tilts her head to the side, and then amends her previous statement. “Or is it tackle ass? Kiss ass? I’m not caught up on football lingo.”
I actually laugh out loud at that. “I dare you to tell Ashton to kiss ass tonight.”
I chuckle at the thought. He’d probably look at her in disbelief for a solid five minutes as he struggles to get his thoughts in order.
I’ve always wanted to see his brain put up an OUT OF ORDER sign and for smoke to billow out of his ears.
Izzy’s nose wrinkles adorably. “Hell no. He already doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true,” I counter immediately.
She quirks a golden eyebrow at me. “It’s totally true. Ever since I arrived here, he stares at me like a bug he wants to squish.”
I distractedly scratch at the nape of my neck as I debate what to say next. I desperately want Izzy to know that it’s not her eliciting this reaction from Ashton. He’s always been a paranoid fucker, and I can’t even blame him. Losing his mom and the majority of his fathers shattered something in him, something he can’t get back.
AshtonlikesIzzy. I can see that in his eyes. He’s intrigued by her, and maybe it’s the way a scientist is intrigued by an endangered species, but it’s better than his usual cold detachment he offers everyone else.
Instead of saying all that to Izzy, though, I change the subject. “You still coming to the game tonight?”
Last I heard, she signed up to take photographs on the sidelines with Ansel for the yearbook.
“Yup.” She pops the P. “I’ll be there taking photos.”
“I’ll try not to pick my wedgie too often,” I deadpan, and she laughs.