“That’s okay, we can—”
“What’s for dinner?” I asked, cutting her off as I stared at Steve.
I swear to Christ, her head whipped toward me so fast she was lucky she didn’t get whiplash.
“Make your own fucking dinner,” she hissed, her face growing red.
The kid looked between us a few times before reaching down to gather his shit. “We can just work on this tomorrow.”
“Seriously, it’s fine—” Trix tried again.
“I’ve got plans, anyway,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I’ll text you later.”
He left the apartment slowly, taking his sweet ass time packing up his stuff, and the longer he was there, the closer I came to putting my boot in his ass to get him moving. As soon as he was gone, I flipped the deadbolt and stomped back to the kitchen to get a beer.
“What the fuck was that?” Trix yelled as soon as she saw me, stuffing her books into a bag.
“You tell me,” I replied, grabbing a beer and using the countertop to take off the cap—just to piss her off.
“I was studying, you know the thing you do when you want to pass your classes?” She sneered, “Oh, wait, you wouldn’t know about that.”
I ignored her jab. I’d never done well in school—it just wasn’t my thing. But I could piece together any car or bike from scratch. If she was trying to get under my skin with that shit, it wasn’t going to work.
“You always have men over when you look like that?” I asked calmly, even though I was feeling anything but calm.
“In shorts and a t-shirt? Yeah, pretty much,” she huffed.
“You even wearin’ a bra?”
“You are frigging unbelievable!”
Trix stormed out of the kitchen, which was probably a good thing—I felt ready to snap. Little Steve had obviously been there to study, but something about it rubbed me the wrong way and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I’d always been possessive of Bellatrix, but this was something else. Something beyond the need to keep her to myself.
The kid was too clean cut. Too fucking personable. Too easy to forget.
And the thing that made the hair on my neck stand up more than anything else? He hadn’t been afraid of me.
Chapter 6
Trix
I was so pissed I could have screamed as I dropped my backpack on the foot of my bed.
Fucking Cameron.
I’d known he was possessive. I’d always known that he considered me his, even before the afternoon when he’d practically beat his chest and growled “mine!” my senior year of high school. Possessiveness didn’t bother me. In our world, it was a sign of love, no matter how outsiders chose to perceive it.
My dad had always been super growly and handsy with my mom when there were other men around, it was just his way. She didn’t have friends that were men. Her relationship with Casper was completely transparent, but I’m not sure that she’d ever spent time with him without my dad—and that guy had taken a bullet for her. But on the flip side of that same coin, my dad had no women friends, either. He didn’t spend time with other women at all—not without their husbands present—and single women? My mom would have gutted him. It was a sign of respect, of loyalty.
So it wasn’t Cameron’s possessiveness that had me slamming things around my room. I understood that.
It was the way he’d embarrassed me in front of my classmate.
When Steve had called to ask if we could work on our group project for our marketing class, I’d jumped at the chance. It was hard as hell to get the group together with everyone’s busy schedules, and as it was, our third member had been at work and unable to come over. I hadn’t thought twice about it, I’d just been happy that we could get part of our project done.
I should have thought it through, but to be fair, Cam and I were brand new. Did I think about him constantly? Yes. It’s not as if I’d forget him when I’d seen him naked for the first time only an hour before. But I hadn’t yet wrapped my mind around the little things I’d have to do to make it work with him.
Like not having a man over to the house when he wasn’t there.
I knew that he trusted me¸ that wasn’t the issue. Not really.
But that didn’t appease my anger. Not even a little bit.
“You gonna stay in here all night?” Cam asked from the doorway, just as I’d begun scooping laundry off my floor and tossing it into the hamper.
“I’m pissed at you, go away.” I grabbed a pair of dirty jeans from underneath my bed and tossed them across the room. How the hell did jeans get that far under my bed?
“You’re pissed?” He laughed nastily. “Right.”
“Seriously, Cam? You were a total dick.”