Split at the Seams (2 page)

“What?”

“Do you want to do something today?”

“Don’t you have a bookstore to run, or something?” Papan’s green eyes twinkled.

Jonathan’s jaw tensed. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at the way they were behaving but didn’t want to make things worse.

Jonathan had been hounding me about kicking Papan out since I moved him in here. But giving Papan somewhere safe to stay was the least I could do after he’d gotten shot while trying to save my life.

In fact, Papan hasn’t been back to his apartment or office—aside for an initial clothes and personal supplies run—since the night Vixen, the werewolf hunter, tried to kill him. The same night I found out the private investigator I’d been crushing over for so long was actually a werewolf.

Still, discovering his true nature hadn’t been the biggest shock I’d received this summer.

“Sierra and I have already made plans,” Papan said with a wink.

I could feel the heat of anger radiating from Jonathan. “Oh, so that’s why you’re not going to work.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Strange, isn’t it? That you never took any time off for me, but for him…”

“Jonathan, don’t.” I didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Not with Papan in the same room, and certainly not when my head was aching.

“Why not? I think we need to talk about this.”

“Now’s not the time.” I glanced quickly at Papan, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. I didn’t want to be embarrassed like this in front of him. How did we go from innocent flirtation and a nice day of doing nothing, to an argument with my
boyfriend?

Papan took a step. “I agree—”

“Maybe you should stay out of this,” Jonathan said. “I think it’s time you moved back to your place. You look fully recovered to me.”

“Jonathan!”

They glared at each other. Whenever Papan was around, Jonathan turned into a possessive caveman—especially after he walked in on us one night in my office after we’d had an argument, and Papan and I had been pretty close to kissing. Papan and I have been friends for three years now, and aside from the one kiss, he hadn’t shown any indication of wanting to become more. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would now.

Secretly, I wanted him to.

Though I still cared for Jonathan, the way he insisted on sticking so close was making me claustrophobic. I needed space to sort through everything, and he obviously didn’t trust
me
. My trust issues with him were not in regard to other women. I had no doubt he was faithful, but I no longer trusted his intentions for wanting to be in my life.

I touched Jonathan’s arm and he finally turned to face me.

“Can you calm down?”

“I don’t think I can calm down while you keep this guy inside your house like he’s handicapped or something,” he said. “We both know what he is, and he’s overdoing the injury so you’ll let him stay longer.”

“He needs to stay here, and it’s not just because of his injuries. You know that!” How many times did we have to discuss this?

He glared into my eyes, as if he was trying to read something in there but couldn’t find it. “Let’s go, we can have lunch.”

“I’ve already eaten.”

“We’ll go for a drive, a walk… Anything but stay here.”

I shook my head. Because we were both now part of the same supernatural community, I’d been stalling the breakup conversation, but it was now or never. “Jonathan, I don’t want to go anywhere right now.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” I said. I lowered my voice and added, “I don’t think this is working.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes were glistening.

I took a shallow breath. “I don’t think this relationship is going to work.”

“Sierra, don’t say that.” He reached for my hand, but I stood and left the kitchen before he could grab me.

By the time he caught up I was already in the corridor just outside the living room.

“Sierra, what the hell’s going on with you?”

I kept walking until he grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. I nearly lost my balance but he caught me in his arms and held me steady when I made a move to take a step back.

“Jonathan, I think you need to leave.” I
wanted
him to leave.

He tightened his arms around me. “You don’t mean that.”

Before I could respond, he caressed the side of my face and lowered his mouth to mine. His lips were warm, familiar, and so willing, that for just a moment I forgot I didn’t want this. Almost forgot Papan was in the other room and could probably hear everything.

I pulled out of the kiss. “Jonathan, don’t.”

“Come on, it’s been so long.” His mouth moved lower, licking a line down the side of my neck.

“Jonathan!” I pushed him away. “I told you to stop.” I struggled to catch my breath. He was trying to gloss over what I’d said in the kitchen, the reason why I walked out. This was his idea of reclaiming his territory but I’d had enough. I certainly didn’t belong to anyone and meant what I’d said. This was over.

His dark eyes burned with desire. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Don’t do this. I already told you what’s going on—”

“You didn’t mean it.”

I met his gaze. “I did, Jonathan. This isn’t working anymore.”

“It’s because of him, isn’t it?” The desire fizzled out of his eyes and was replaced with anger. “Don’t you think he’s milking this injury to his advantage?” He stepped closer, his brown eyes intense on mine. “He’s faking being hurt so you’ll let him stay.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s really going on. I have to keep him away from the werewolf hunter. I’ve already told you that.”

His jaw was clenched so tight, a vein wobbled. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You’re right, because this isn’t your problem anymore.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Anger rolled around inside me, blinding me with rage. “Like I said, it’s not your problem.”

“You’re enjoying playing nurse with the dog. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t want me anymore.” He shook his head. “You’re actually choosing him over me.”

My cheeks burned and I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Papan’s a friend. I’m just helping him stay safe.”

Jonathan stepped closer and leaned down, his lips near my ear. “Has he been warming your bed? Because I know I haven’t. You’ve refused every attempt at physical contact I’ve tried since he’s been here.”

I pressed a hand against his chest to push him away and slapped him with the other. “How dare you! Just get out!”

His eyes were shiny as he recoiled.

I didn’t move, just glared at him. My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

“Why are you so gung-ho about protecting him?”

“He saved my life!”

He closed the distance between us and grabbed me by the shoulders, digging his fingers into my skin and pushing my back against the wall. “This isn’t over. I think you’re just upset right now.”

“Get your hands off me.”

Jonathan grinned, and it shook me to the core. I’d never seen him act like such a jerk, but I was glad he was showing his true colors now. This violent, jealous streak was making this a hell of a lot easier.

“You’ve always wanted him instead of me. I was just a temporary filler, wasn’t I?”

“Just go.” I glared into his eyes, ready to tell him the truth when I caught a glimpse of Papan standing in the doorway.

“You better get your hands off her before I make you,” Papan said, flexing his hands at his sides.

Jonathan’s smile widened when he dropped his harsh grip on me.

I hated the way things were turning out, but what had I expected? There was bound to be some sort of casualty in all of this. I tried to keep my hands from going to my shoulders to rub away the pain.

“Sierra, I know you didn’t mean any of what you just said,” he whispered. His chocolate-brown eyes had darkened to almost black, and his olive skin looked a little waxy. I’d never realized how much jealousy could affect a person physically. “I’ll call you later.”

Don’t bother.
My heart was still pounding so hard that I couldn’t get the words out.

Jonathan finally turned away and headed for the door.

Papan stepped in front of him, towering several inches above him. “If you ever lay your hands on her in anger again, I’ll break them.”

Jonathan laughed, smacked him with his shoulder and kept walking to the front door. He slammed it shut behind him, and I could hear his manic laughter all the way down the driveway.

“Are you okay?” Papan’s voice had lost its edge. He sounded softer, concerned, but he kept his distance.

I nodded, trying to calm my racing heart with shallow breaths. Jonathan had dug his fingers into my skin so hard I could still feel the bruising pressure. “He’s just having trouble dealing with what I said to him. And he’s jealous.”

“That’s no reason to grab you like that.”

“No, it’s not.”

“So…does he have a reason to be jealous, Foxy Lady?”

I looked up and met his gaze. “I don’t know—why don’t you tell me?”

Papan took a step forward, just the one. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard what you said to him. I’ll never forget what you’re doing for me, Fox.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I think you know how I feel about you. If you don’t, maybe I need to spell it out for you.” His sexy grin returned and a shock of dark blond hair fell over his eyes. “Are we playing the same game again, where you pretend you don’t know what’s really going on?”

“Why didn’t you do anything when you had the chance, months ago?” Oh, God, my heart was running for a different reason now.

Papan took another step and shrugged. “I guess it took some jerk that smells funny to make me realize.”

“What do you mean, he smells funny?”

“I’m not sure what it is, but he smells like sulfur and dirt. But let’s not talk about him.” As I stood there with my arms around myself, waiting for Papan to reach me and have all of the fantasies I’d been dreaming about lately come to life, a knock stopped him in his tracks.

“Damn!” he cursed, pushing a hand through his hair. “Are we ever going to get this out in the open?”

“It’s probably him.” The last thing I wanted right now was to see Jonathan again.

Papan sniffed the air. “It’s not him. You can open the door.”

“Are you sure?” My skin burned but I chased away goose bumps with my fingers. I took a moment to collect myself, sighed, and then walked past him as I headed for the front door, calling, “Hold up, I’m coming!”

Papan grabbed a hold of my hand as I passed him and rubbed his thumb along my palm. I paused long enough to meet his gaze, before he dropped my hand.

I somehow made it to the door and pulled it open. Oren McKee charged inside in a blur of black-and-white. He always wears black everything, and his hair is white and long. Today, it was in a tight braid that swung down his back. His wardrobe also doesn’t seem to take any notice of the seasons. It’s always long-sleeved shirts, pressed trousers and shiny shoes.

“I thought you weren’t home. Thank God you are!”

“What’s up? What was so important you couldn’t just call?” So I could finally get this thing with Papan sorted out. I was looking forward to hearing what he had to say. Surely I hadn’t just imagined my ex-boyfriend—I’d just broken up with Jonathan, right?—roughing me up and Papan coming to my rescue. Not that I needed rescuing. I could take care of myself, but it still felt nice to know he cared enough to warn someone away from trying to hurt me.

The thought made me sad. Was I becoming one of those girls who made up excuses and put up with someone’s crap to spare him the pain?

Oren stopped in the foyer, didn’t even seem to notice Papan, who disappeared into the living room.

The blare of the TV echoed out the doorway seconds later. He knew to stay out of Oren’s way. He also knew the old man might be annoying but he didn’t mean me any harm. If anything, he was always trying to help.

Oren McKee and I have a fragile relationship, if you can call it that. I get pissed off with him a lot. Sure, he’s charming, mysterious and has a groovy Irish twang embedded into his Aussie accent, but he also happens to be a powerful witch, and my biological grandfather. A fact I recently found out. I can’t say I’m thrilled with the revelation.

“Sorry to barge in on you, Sierra, but I think I might’ve gotten a lead on your grandparents,” Oren said, his light blue eyes staring into mine.

My heart skipped a beat. He was helping me track down my missing grandparents, who are both ghosts and were somehow snatched after a tear in the fabric between patches—the different lines of spiritualistic existence—made it possible.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Sorry, it’s not something I can simply explain, I need to show you.” His light eyes were wide.

“Right.” Everything with him was always about showing. The last time he said something like this, we ended up in the cemetery and he stole a bit of essence from me. That’s when I found out he was a witch who also happened to hunt witches. “I’ll need a little more info than that.”