Bane of My Existence

Chapter 11

Kinsey drove like a bat out of hell to work. Her car was miraculously parked in the slot she always parked in at Sabrina's place when she woke up this morning. One of the only things that had gone right for her so far.

Not only had she had a very late night, she slept terribly, beating herself up for not finding the courage to sleep with her incredibly hot date. As a result, she slept through her alarm. Sabrina, who was well known amongst their friend group for sleeping in, had woken her up.

Kinsey skipped breakfast. She dressed, brushed her teeth, and ran out the door.

She hurried passed the security desk. One of the guards slipped out from behind it with incredible speed and forced her to an abrupt halt into his chest.

He glared down at her with cold, black eyes; she might as well be gazing into the endless expanse of the Mariana Trench. It gave her the chills. "Why the rush?"

"I'm going to be late," she huffed. It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming at him. Kinsey Ashe was never late, and here he was, tarnishing her good record!

He lowered his face so it was level with hers and sniffed her unabashedly. "You smell like one of them."

"I'm sorry?"

She inconspicuously gave her hair a sniff but clearly didn't smell whatever he did for him to be glowering at her like that. She stepped back--right into another one of the big, bulky security guys. She felt like an ant wedged between two imposing rocks.

"Can I go to work, please?"

They didn't budge.

"Why do you smell like one of them?"

"Who?" she snapped irately. "Who do I smell like?"

People in the foyer were beginning to stare. Thankfully, the guards weren't loud enough for everyone to hear how smelly she was, saving her from that embarrassment, but she was sure everyone would be talking about Carissa's sister who was evidently sketchy enough to be stopped by security twice this week.

"A shifter."

She blinked at him. "Aren't you a shifter?"

That didn't make any sense. Why would he be so angry for smelling like his own kind?

Snarling, he grabbed her shirt and shoved her back into the man behind her, clearly insulted she had lumped him in with shifters, which he apparently wasn't.  Except he had fangs like Damon's and looked ready to tear her throat out, like so many shifters had wanted to do in the past.

"Echo, Lima--back off."

A wiry man dressed in a black turtleneck and cargo pants rushed out of the security office.

Echo, the man in front of her, growled in her face, ignoring the newcomer.

"Now." The man in black held up a small device. It looked harmless, like a small TV remote, but it made the burly men stand back and allow the newcomer to usher her for the elevators. "Sorry about that."

He glanced over his shoulder to security, who begrudgingly went back to the desk, then looked her over nervously, brushing the wrinkles off her shirt--and padding unnecessarily over her breasts. She swatted his hands away, fully capable of dewrinkling her own clothes without being groped.

"Again, I'm so sorry about those two. We're still working out the kinks."

He definitely wasn't sorry for touching her inappropriately. His eyes were glued on her chest; she didn't wear shirts that advertised the size of her breasts, and he seemed to be engrossed by the fact they had felt bigger than they looked.