Page 186 of Incompatible

I suppose I have been living under the illusion of safety. Alphas are fucking gorillas.

But this is not important now, and I press my hands to my temples.

I’m about to go crazy.

The body! I don’t want to look at Oswald’s body.

"I killed him! I have no idea how, but I killed him," I blurt out in despair and resignation.

My dark protector approaches the bed and slowly leans over Oswald. He turns him to the side to glance at his face; there is a short silence. Then he straightens up.

I don’t know why, but the stalker doesn’t seem particularly shocked. At least not in his body language, since I can’t see his face, the dark mask is tilted toward me, and the room is quiet.

Eh, crap. I don’t know what to say. I clench and unclench my fingers, stare at him, and then it dawns on me that he is also an alpha and I am still in heat!

Would he… will he?

But there are more important things right now.

Reluctantly, I force myself to glance at the still shape on the bed.

"Will you help me with this?" I whisper weakly, probably the kind of thing any panicking first-time killer would say after committing a crime…

The man slowly turns his head toward Oswald again, as if thinking it through.

Since the room is dim and the only light comes from the living room, I reach toward the nightstand lamp. I turn it on. Now the whole crime scene is perfectly visible.

Oswald’s pants are down to his knees, his skin so gray he looks like he’s been dead for days.

When the man sees it, he slowly turns back to me, then points at Oswald and then at me.

I’m not sure what he’s asking, but I give the only answer I can think of.

"He didn’t shove it in," I mutter. "He was about to, but then something in me snapped…" I let out a shaky breath. "And I just… took his life energy, or something," I say, realizing how absurd it sounds, how impossible it should be.

Feeling like I’m about to faint from stress and shock, I slide down to the floor beside the bed, resting my forehead against it.

"Something is wrong with me," I whisper.

I wish I knew everything about what happened when I was born, because something inside me, some leftover, subconscious information, tells me something strange took place back then.

The man stays silent.

The room is eerily quiet; the only thing I hear is the deep, steady, soothing beat of his heart.

And closing my eyes, I listen to it, sink into it…

"Your heart," I whisper. "It beats beautifully; it reminds me of someone I once loved," I murmur, lifting a hand to my neck, searching for my little tab pendant.

Then suddenly I ask the question.

"Why did you come here again? How did you know? Are you stalking me for real? All this time?"

The man stays silent, unmoving.

Somehow I don’t expect him to answer. But I think about it for a moment.

And then the thought flashes through me again. I remember what Bay once told me in an almost shy, uncertain way. That he could sense a danger to him and… to me. It was why he ran off from the school then, on Halloween.