Is she the object of your sole focus now, that lucky bitch?
He barely shook his head, allowing a hint of a smile to play at his lips. “No one you should be thinking about.”
When the light changed, Ronan kept his hand on my back. As we walked, it slid up my spine until his long fingers curled around my nape. His nonanswer clawed at my brain, but I wouldn’t ask again. It really wasn’t my business, even with the blurred lines between us. His fingertips gently stroking the side of my neck went a long way to distract me from what my question had been in the first place.
My townhouse was in sight when Ronan spoke again. “I very much liked the new song you played.”
“You did?” He hadn’t exactly been the intended audience of my ragey girl anthem. I was fortunate to have a band who supported me singing about my personal truths, things that didn’t touch them directly.
“I did.”
I gestured from me to him, then sang a line. “It’s not even safe to walk down the street. They said you gotta have a man at your side to protect you from his brethren.” The bitter fucking irony of the situation floated between us like a specter.
He hummed. “You write what you know.”
“Have you listened to much of our music, Ronan?”
“Some.”
“Did you listen before or after you knew who I was?”
He squeezed the back of my neck and turned me to face him. We were in front of my house, but he made no move to escort me inside.
“After.” His fingers traveled through the back of my hair, tangling in the long strands.
“Did you get hard?”
His nod was barely perceptible, but it was enough for me to suck in a shuddering breath.
I picked up his tie and wound it around my hand like a ribbon on a package. “If you weren’t my bodyguard, I’d invite you inside right now.”
His fingers balled in my hair. His gaze burned into mine. “You wouldn’t have to invite me, Iris.” His head dipped until his mouth was only inches from mine. Warm wisps of his breath caressed my lips. “I’d already have you up against a wall right inside your door.”
My heart thrashed wildly at the same time my stomach churned with disappointment. I wanted that, but it wouldn’t happen. Ronan was far too controlled to cross that line.
“Too bad…” I unraveled my hand from his tie and ducked out of his reach. His brow crinkled, but he made no move to reclaim me. In fact, he stood his ground and watched me go. I wondered if he felt as untethered as I did in that moment.
My keys trembled in my hand under the weight of Ronan’s stare on my back. I might not have made it inside if Mrs. Kraus hadn’t opened the door for me. She started talking before I could even take a breath.
“Oh, I know I shouldn’t have opened it, but it didn’t have a name and you know me, I’m a curious bird.” She held a crumpled white paper and a ripped envelope in her hand. “As soon as I saw your name, I stopped reading. I didn’t even open it all the way. I’m no snoop.”
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and understand what was going on. “This is my mail?”
“No, dear.” She squeezed my upper arm and pressed the paper in my hand. “It was with the rest of the mail, but no stamp. Someone slipped it through the slot, I suppose. The envelope was blank.”
“Don’t worry. Seriously. It’s probably junk.” I patted her shoulder and we chatted for a minute, but I was too distracted to be interesting to her, so she let me go and went back upstairs to her apartment.
I kicked off my shoes as soon as I locked my door and took the envelope with me to the kitchen. I cracked open a beer and took a long pull from the bottle before slipping the folded paper out. My name was printed on the outside in bold letters. I believed Mrs. Kraus hadn’t opened it all the way as soon as I saw what was on the inside.
In the center of the white paper was a picture printed from the internet of me emerging from the alley behind Skinwalkers with Ronan at my side. I looked shellshocked and slightly pissed off. Ronan could have been made of stone, impenetrable as ever.
Below the picture was a printed message.
You’re nothing, bitch. You mean nothing. Nothing but a bad memory. Go away while you can and take your disgusting disease-ridden pussy with you. No one wants you. Do everyone a favor and disappear, whore.
Fan mail, wow. Someone was angry.
I almost dropped it in the trash, but a chill ran down my spine when it dawned on my tired mind that this had been personally dropped off. The person who hated me enough to type this message and print it out knew where I lived.