Reclaimed

“It’s me. Open the door.”

“Who? I’m sorry, but I must make sure. You could be either Elijah, or Isaac. So, which is it?”

Which are you hoping for, my dear?

Teeth gritted, he snapped, “It’s Isaac. Let me in. Now.”

Dead silence met his ears, and he stared incredulously at the door as he wondered if she would actually refuse him entry. He measured the strength of the barrier, computing where it would be best to deliver the force of his impact to crash it open. Within seconds of breaking it down—he’d even backed up in preparation—she unlocked the door. As soon it swung open, he pushed his way inside. Not a chance in hell he would give her time to change her mind.

Sabrina studied Isaac’s angry face and promptly walked away from him. Judging by his scowl, he didn’t look any more agreeable than he had earlier. If he wanted to talk to her, he’d follow. She’d had enough of trying to explain what had happened last night. It was his turn.

He sat beside her. She turned to him and arched an eyebrow. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Were you planning on keeping me out? If so, I should warn you a simple door wouldn’t stop me if I didn’t want it to.” His chin jutted out in defiance, and his eyes glittered. “And the knife is useless, too.”

“Maybe so, but it would still be damn satisfying to make you bleed right now.” She toyed with it in her hands, spinning it in slow circles. Okay, maybe she didn’t want to actually stab him, did she? “I didn’t know you were going to be coming in, first of all. You haven’t been in a talkative mood today. Second of all, you once yelled at me for opening the door before I made sure it was you. So I was being careful. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? And last but not least, I want my damn knife back.”

He flushed and refused to meet her eyes.

Score one: Sabrina.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. I seem to be capable of doing nothing but yelling at you today.” He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “And the knife is at my place. I’ll get it to you as soon as possible.”

“Fine. Make it soon. And yelling seems to be something I bring out

in people,” she drawled.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he snapped. “Is Elijah here, hiding?”

She stared at him in surprise, caught off guard by the change of subject. Not to mention the loud clash of thunder shaking her house. “Elijah? No, why would he be hiding here?”

“Seeing as you seem to have fallen in love with him, I figured he’d be here to gloat. Well, he can come out, and I’ll tell him right here and now I—”

“Stop it right there, buddy. First off, calm yourself down. Second, where did you possibly get the ridiculous notion I love Elijah? Did you think I’d somehow mistaken the two of you last night when I told you I loved you? When you ran away from me?

“Because, call me crazy, but a man who runs when a woman declares her love for him really has no right at all to even attempt to be angry over what he thinks is her love for another.” Her voice shook at the force of the emotions inside her, and by the time she finished her tirade, she’d poked him in the chest to emphasize her words.

Isaac stared at her in a mixture of admiration, anger, and shock.

“I don’t know. I’ll tell you what I do know, though. I know I found you kissing Elijah. I know we fought. I know he pushed you and took advantage of my distraction to knock me out. I know when I awoke, you were in his arms, again. I know after I left last night, he came here. That’s what I know.”

When he mentioned Elijah being inside her house last night, her mouth dropped open, and her face must have betrayed her shock. “How did you—?”

“How did I know? Oh, what a cute story. You see, your sister told me all about the nightmare you had, and how you were yelling my name, and some stranger’s name. Whose could it possibly be?”

“Oh, knock it off,” she grumbled. She gripped her knees in an attempt to stop the shaking of her hands.

“I remember...Elijah. How ironic. And after you sent her to bed, you left. She tried to wait up for you, but alas, she fell asleep in the kitchen. Imagine her relief when I, being the loving man I am, carried you inside and snuggled you until you fell asleep. Isn’t it abso-fucking-lutely heartwarming?

“But wait just a minute.... I went home last night. I went to sleep worrying about whether you were okay. So that means I couldn’t have been here, holding you in my arms. Which leaves only one other person who could have been. I don’t think I need to say his name. Nor will I,” he snarled.

She cringed, but glared. “Maybe if my loving man hadn’t left me alone on the lawn, he wouldn’t have left room for another to sweep in and comfort me.”

Isaac paled and whispered, “What?”

“Did you really think I would just shrug and walk away after you left me? I told you I loved you, and you ran away.”

“You didn’t even mean it!” he yelled. His clenched fists rose to his chest before he lowered them. “It was nothing but a lie, a guilty gesture at best.”