I spun on the spot, panting and panicked, to see Byron standing there. Hesitating. Filling it up to the brim with all of him – all of him and his concerned, enraging face. Something about his sympathy made me bristle with rage, threatening to boil over.
Despite that, I could see he was fighting with himself. Almost rocking back and forth on his heels as though he were deciding whether to enter the dragon’s den.
That made me snort. And almost appeased my anger.
If only to cool it to annoyance. “What do you want?”
Our last run in hadn’t been a pleasant one. I doubt either of us were keen for a repeat. But I couldn’t stop myself from being snippy with him.
He finally stepped through the door, eyes scanning across the chaos that was unfolding before us.
Clothes, the more practical i
