Or so angry. He kissed her. He forced her to Shift. In front of everyone. But the worst part, the most agonizingly wretched part, was the way she had responded. She hid her face in her hands and groaned as she remembered it. The way her skin began to tingle and flush even as she was trying to fight him off, her mouth opening to accept his tongue, his scent filling her nostrils, his hands an inescapable vise around her face, the hard length of him suddenly pressed against her, holding her captive. Arousing her. Making her lose control. In front of them all. Damn him. Thank God it was dark in here. She didn’t have to look at herself in the mirror; she didn’t have to meet any more jeering, hostile eyes. She could hide. She wished she could hide here forever. She buried her face into the arm of a heavy wool overcoat. She burrowed into it, slipped it off the wooden hanger, wrapped it around her naked body. She folded up the collar and turned her nose to the silk lining. It smelled like him.
