Chapter Twenty-Two

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Dylan

This kid is literally so freaking creepy. He just stares off into space and every now and then he'll grumble something under his breath. The first time he did it I asked what he said and instead of responding he just glowered at me. I've never felt such a mixed energy off of anyone. Thanks to countless hours and days training with Dre to get more in touch with my foresight I've gotten a lot better at reading people's auras and energies. It's like a part of him wants to be happy, it's clawing and fighting tirelessly to come out, but another part of him, a darker part, won't allow it. It's almost like he's forcing himself to be unhappy. Sad stuff, really.

Initially when Dean told me he was going to stay with me to watch my back tonight I was uneasy since I always have gotten a vibe from him but I went along with it, knowing how important tonight is. But once he got here with that look on his face, I wanted to send him right back out the door. I'd rather take my chances alone.

"So," I drag out the word, "Are you hungry?"

He shakes his head no in reply.

My eyes drift in an arch to the high ceiling and then back to him, only to find his eyes are already on me. His dark brown gaze chills me to the bone but I don't look away, I can't. It's like we're caught in a dangerous staring contest, one I refuse to lose.

He raises his eyebrow slightly and a smirk quirks the corner of his mouth as if I amuse him.

I take the time to observe him. His hair is an inky black and spiked up like bed hair, his eyebrows are thinner than most guys, like he threads them, his nose is straight and slightly broad. Those lips of his still wear a slight smirk but it isn't appealing or funny, it's frightening, like he's planning my death in his head. His top lip is much thinner than the bottom and pointy ears lead down to the gauges in his lobes. He has the finest amount of peach fuzz along his rounded yet angular jawline.

He looks away first, rubbing that same peach fuzz as he mutters under his breath again.

"What is your problem Kid?" I ask, a lot sassier than I intended, my true feelings coming through.

"First of all," he starts, slowly turning his head back around to me, his voice deeper than I expected, "I'm not a kid. And second, if you must know, I'm missing out on an extremely important op because I'm babysitting you, Luna." The name is an acidic curse from his lips.

"Well I-," I stop myself from apologizing, "I didn't ask for you to be here. I would've rather had Grey stay with me." I really would've rather had Dean here but that's none of his concern. If he's not going to make an effort to like me then I dḁmned sure will do the same.

My response seems to spark his interest as he sits up straighter on the sectional. "I'm sure you would've but Karter left me here so that should tell you something."

"Yeah that he didn't want to have to deal with a tantrum throwing child tonight," I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.

His eyes widen and a vein appears in the middle of his forehead as if he's restraining himself. He opens his mouth to speak but immediately closes it and starts to mumble under his breath again.

"There you go with that old man grumbling," I gripe, getting up to walk to the kitchen, "Maybe you're right you aren't a child, you're an eighty year old grouch stuck in a twenty year old's body."

I hear him shoot up from the couch behind me, the leather protesting loudly.

"You're very disrespectful you know that?" he asks rhetorically.

"So are you," I reply with a shrug.

He hops up to sit on the counter across from me. "Well I'm not the Luna of a pack now am I?"

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