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What the hell was he doing here?

Pain flashed so bright through me, I moaned.Why was he doing this?Gods.Not again.I battered the pain back with rage, pushing it down as deep as I could get it.Anger was much better, much easier.Much safer.

Dropping the curtain, I strode around my bed, snatched my phone from the bedside table, then stomped back to the window, where I jerked back the curtains and held up my phone.The massive hound blinked up at me, then shifted smoothly, going from four legs to two, black fur giving way to muscled, tattooed skin.Naked, he scooped up the jeans beside him and pulled them on, and then took something from his pocket, his phone.

I didn’t want to talk to him.I didn’t want to hear that deep gravelly voice, so instead, I messaged him.

Sutton:Why are you here?

I watched as he looked down at his phone, reading my message, then head bent, he tapped out his reply.Boo flew over to me, took a look out the window, then obviously unbothered, flew back and carried on eating.My phone beeped.

Jagger:Loth saw you tonight.Don’t want you hanging around Poe.That fucking demon is trouble, understand?

I knew exactly the kind of trouble Poe was, but what the hell did it have to do with Jagger?He’d made his position clear.

Sutton:Who I spend time with is none of your business.

Jagger looked back down, and even from here I could see his shoulders stiffen.He stabbed at his phone screen with those long, thick fingers and my phone chimed again.

Jagger:It’s my concern when you’re kissing that piece of shit.

What now?Oh my freaking gods!My fury shot higher, so hard and fast that I felt dizzy.I couldn’t ever remember being this angry.Even when I was kicked out of my coven, I hadn’t reached this level of outrage.

I couldn’t smile, I couldn’t push down all the pain, not this time, not tonight.

He didn’t want me, refused to admit we were even mates—and no, I didn’t want Poe touching me, and certainly not kissing me, but Jagger didn’t know that.He didn’t want me, but no one else could have me either?Was that how this was going to go?

He’d been gone close to a month, nearly four weeks of no contact, because I didn’t exist to him, I wasn’t important—until he thought someone else wanted me?

How dare he toy with me like that.My fingers flew across my phone screen as I typed my response.

Sutton:Your arrogance is astounding.Seriously something special.I don’t know who the hell you think you are?Not mates, right?So who I kiss is none of your business.You made your choice, Jagger.Now you need to back the fuck off and live with it.

I watched him read my message, then tap another reply, and when he looked up, his eyes had turned red.

Jagger:My instincts to protect you aren’t going anywhere, Sutton, so you’re going to have to get used to it.

I hissed, so incensed I wanted to open the window and throw my phone at his head.

Sutton:I don’t want your protection.Get that through your thick skull and leave me the hell alone.I don’t want you.I’m over you completely.

He read it, typed his reply, then looked back up and flashed his teeth.

Jagger:You’re wearing my shirt.

I looked down at myself in horror.I was.I didn’t even think about it.Every night, I told myself not to, and every night, I couldn’t stop myself from putting it on.It smelled of him, even after I washed it, and being surrounded by his scent, it gave me comfort.I hated that I still felt that way.

I would not let him think I needed him, because I didn’t.He was the one showing up at my place in the middle of the night.He was the one acting all jealous.Well, he couldn’t have it both ways.

My vision turned red, my anger flipping the switch inside me, and I felt as if I was outside my body watching as I tossed my phone on the bed.Then snatching my knife from my bedside table, I yanked the curtains wider.Light from the sign across the street hit me as I climbed onto the wide windowsill.

Jagger froze, his hand still gripping his phone lowered to his side.

Grabbing the neck of the shirt, I lifted my razor-sharp knife and sliced, hacking and slashing it right down the front, destroying the shirt.

Hopefully, he got the message—I didn’t want him either, or his fucking shirt.

Jagger