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XIV - Brewing Storm
I took a lungful of air. The overwhelming smell of wet dogs flooded my nostrils. When Carlisle said that the Los Angeles Sanctum was under attack, I knew who to blame in an instant. The monster who pretended to be a one-time lover. My blood revolted at the thought of falling for his treachery. I remembered feeling his tongue sliding down my neck. His saliva drenching my skin. His moans piercing my ears. Vladimir Randall. I shuddered. “Who could it be?” asked Jason, taking me out of my trance. “I thought the Sanctum was supposed to be a safe house?” His words were both a question and an accusation. “Who else but the criminal after your asses?” Despite what transpired earlier, Carlisle answered him. I really do not understand men. One minute they were fighting, the next they’re talking
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