by Erica Woods
He proceeded to feed us both. I always got the first bite, and Ruarc seemed to only eat when I was busy chewing. It was nice. Intimate. And when we were done, it seemed very natural for me to throw my arms around his neck, bury my face against his chest, and close my eyes.
41
JASON
It had taken me ten minutes to realize how badly I’d fucked up after the debacle in Ash’s office. But by then, the damage had been done. I’d hurt her. By not looking at her, by staring at my feet while she tried in vain to catch my eye, and by losing my temper like a bloody child, I’d hurt her.
Of course, she didn’t know I’d spent a sleepless night shaking with a mix of anger and blood-curdling terror. And that being near her brought it all back; how the air had smelled of fear and blood when Zakh and I had come back from our run. How I’d seen Tim’s empty eyes staring at nothing from a skull that was no longer attached to his body. How my heart had been pounding as I sprinted up to the house, searching for a second body.
Hope’s body.
And then bursting into the kitchen only to see her half-naked, shivering, a hole in her pants, the stench of fear permeating the air around her until the bitter taste coated the back of my tongue.
That moment had been like the end of a thousand feet fall, when you splatter against the pavement and your body is torn to pieces.
When she’d seen me, wrenching sobs had spilled from her like her heart was breaking.
And mine fucking had. It had cleaved straight into two deformed pieces and bled the kind of caustic blood that burned when it touched flesh.
I’d lost it. Utterly lost it. And when dawn had arrived and Ash informed me we had to tell her everything, I’d still been lost.
In the office, I hadn’t been able to look at her for fear she’d see pain in my eyes and mistake it for pity. Or that she’d pick up on the anger jabbing at my temples—why the fuck had I not been there to protect her? Twice I’d failed her now. Twice!—and think it was directed at her.
It had taken all my energy to not look at her, to hide my emotions so I wouldn’t pile on the hurt—or pressure her when her world was already being changed by what she was learning—and then . . . then she’d let it slip that she and Ruarc were a bloody couple.
Where had my damned smile been then? My jokes, my good humor, my fucking mantra of smiling until things no longer hurt? Why couldn’t I have laughed it off instead of acting like a jealous dick?
I’d spent the rest of the day alternatively cursing Ruarc for being the first with a claim on Hope, and myself for my damned self-destructive streak.
But enough was enough.
I knew I had a lot to make up for if I were to bridge the gap that had opened between us like a giant, gaping chasm, but by god, I’d bloody well fix it.
What still got me was that Ruarc—grumpy, hard-headed Ruarc—had managed to win her over while I’d gallantly decided not to pursue her. To protect her. And then it hadn’t even mattered, because Tim had attacked her and suddenly we had to tell her the truth.
And if that wasn’t the piss-icing on the shit-cake I’d been forced to shovel down, it sure as hell was the appetizer.
The main course—doubling as a kick to the nuts—was being hit in the face with the depth of my feelings for her when I’d done my best to keep them from getting involved at all.
How had that happened?
It was fucking terrifying to realize I’d gladly give up centuries of my life if it meant having a few decades—or even just a few days—with a person who gave me a reason to smile other than to numb the pain. I’d never thought I would truly want someone to know me. Not after I’d spent my whole existence trying to wipe out all memories of my past and who I really was.
And along came Hope, all bruised eyes and haunted expression, and I suddenly found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, she’d accept the part of me that was too ugly for me to ever want to bring into the light.
So that evening, I marched myself down to help Ash make dinner. Ruarc was out hunting the Stray that had carelessly left his scent too close for comfort, and I was here, determined to at least soothe the ragged edges of the wound I’d inflicted and to once more make Hope comfortable around me.
After that . . . well, I had time, didn’t I? And if Ruarc could get the sweet, little human to see past the grump-parade that was one of his main settings, then maybe I could convince her to look past my far more numerous flaws and finally claim a little piece of happiness for myself.
Once we were all seated around the table—minus Ruarc—Hope’s subdued demeanor prickled at my conscience. Needing to fix what I’d broken, I forced a grin and nodded in the direction of the fridge. “I made pudding for dessert, love.”
She didn’t seem to know what to say to that, just kept her gaze locked on her food. “W-where’s Ruarc?”
I gritted my teeth against the urge to yell at her, to force her gaze up and on me, to make sure she understood that she didn’t need Ruarc when I was around. I, too, would take care of her. I, too, wanted her.
“He will be back in a few hours.” Ash’s face revealed as little as his words, but when Hope remained still, staring down at her place of mostly uneaten food, he tipped his head to the side and uncharacteristically added another morsel of information, “Pack business.”
“Oh . . . okay.”
“Not hungry, love?” I asked.
“Not really.” She speared a carrot with her fork and brought it up to her mouth. I suppressed a groan as those full rose lips parted and imagined it was something else she was putting between them. “It’s very good, though,” she assured us as she finished chewing.
“You should eat up, regardless,” Lucien inserted. “You would do well with some added weight.”
Even though I agreed with Lucien, I couldn’t stop myself from sending him a fierce frown when Hope paled and looked away. The shame in her expression didn’t belong there. I wanted to wipe it off and watch her face fill with laughter and joy instead.
She needs to smile more.
“Only eat what you want, Hope. We often have leftovers,” Ash said.
That was a lie. It was a rare occasion where food remained on the table after a meal. Being a lycan was hungry work.
“Want to play some cards, love? We can bring the pudding.” I wiggled my brows, willing her to laugh.
She still looked uncomfortable, but her lips tipped up in a tiny, careful smile. “Okay.”
Once she pushed her plate away, I went around the table and pulled out her chair, guiding her to the living room.
It was time to start rebuilding our friendship and get Hope to agree to spend some more time with me.
Alone.
A predatory grin pulled at my lips. With Ruarc busy with enforcer business for the next few hours, a plan began to take shape.
“You win again, love,” I said affectionately as I placed my cards face down on the table. I had to work hard to hide my grin when her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Really?” She reached for my cards.
“Ah, ah,” I admonished, putting them back in the deck. “You know the rules.”
A cute, little frown appeared on her face—two tiny lines emerging between big, guileless eyes, mouth pursing in a way that made my mind leap to other, more interesting things.
“Then how do I know I won?”
I made my eyes go as wide as they could. “Are you insinuating that I’m letting you win?”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe.”
“The whole point of poker is to win, love. I wouldn’t pretend to lose just to see your gorgeous smile.”
She blushed, a pretty pink stain over hollow cheeks.
She needs to eat more.
Scooping up the last bit of pudding, I put it in her bowl. “Eat up, love,” I said with a grin. “Winning is hard work.”
She eyed the pudding with a look that was part yearning, part apprehension. “I feel like it’s
talking to me,” she admitted with a rueful smile.
Intrigued, I leaned forward. “What’s it saying?”
“Well . . . it’s a particularly arrogant pudding.”
My interest grew. “Oh?”
She mimicked my posture, resting her elbows on her knees, and moved closer. “It thinks very highly of itself. Brags about its sweet taste, its chocolaty goodness.”
“Then what’s holding you back?”
Humor sparkled in her brown eyes. “It reminds me too much of you.”
“Really?” I drawled. “You think I’m sweet?” Satisfaction curled in my stomach. Maybe she was recalling the last time we played poker; the intimate moment I’d all but ruined with my insecurities and insensitivities.
“I think you think you’re sweet. Just like the arrogant pudding,” she quipped, peeking up at me.
The little minx.
I threw my head back and laughed, happy when her uncertainty slipped away and her smile widened. My little jokester was not used to having fun. Definitely not used to telling jokes. But despite being a little awkward and uncertain of her reception, I found her incredibly charming.
And completely alluring.
“In that case,” I murmured with a wicked smile, “I think you should enjoy it.”
Her face flooded with color. “W-what?”
“The pudding, love,” I said, pretending not to understand where her mind had gone. I pushed the bowl toward her and grinned. “Enjoy.”
“Oh!” The way she stared at me—unfocused and a little bit lost—made my jeans uncomfortably tight.
With a jerk of my chin I indicated the bowl sitting under her unmoving fingers. “Before it runs away from you.”
She shook herself out of her daze—a shame when she was so damned cute all flustered and sweet-looking. “Right.”
While I dealt the next round, Hope finished off the pudding. Fulfillment swam in my veins when her bowl was empty. It felt good providing for my little human and making sure she ate. I couldn’t wait to see the gaunt look be replaced by some flesh. She would look great with rounded cheeks, I decided as I stared at her beautiful face. How had I ever thought her plain?
The mere notion was ridiculous.
When she smiled her whole face glowed with warmth. It transformed her from merely beautiful to absolutely stunning.
“Wish me luck, love,” I said as I picked up my cards. Her delicate snort made me hide a grin behind my hand. When had this girl’s happiness become so closely tied in with my own?
I froze.
Being dependent on someone else for my own joy was not something I’d ever wanted. It was downright scary.
We make our own happiness.
How many times had I told myself that as I stared at my reflection, forcing a smile until the act itself pressured my mind into feeling something resembling a shred of contentment?
What would I do if Hope didn’t feel the same way? She was human, after all. She’d been through trauma. A trauma I knew next to nothing about. She wasn’t wolf, wasn’t brought up with the possibility of multiple mates. The concept might shock her. Repulse her.
And then where would I be?
My smile felt stiff, so I forced my face to relax and moved my mind away from thoughts better ignored.
“I bet two,” Hope’s melodious voice called out.
“Two what, love?”
She bit her lower lip. “Uh . . . two of these?” She held up two white chips.
“That’s two dollars.”
“You know that I don’t have any money, right?”
Giving her a slow grin, I winked at her. “You do now.” I laid out my cards, face up this time. “Nothing. Not even a pair.”
Staring down at the cards, eyes wide with shock, she let out a trembling breath. “I . . . I really won?”
“You’ve been winning this whole time, love,” I replied, choosing not to tell her this was the first hand I couldn’t have beaten—unless I’d kept my three queens instead of discarding two of them.
When she lifted her head a wide, earnest smile spread across her face and lit up her eyes. “I’ve never won anything before,” she confided.
My chest swelled, heart aching with both sweet delight at her clear pleasure and agonizing misery that her life had been so filled with pain that something as simple as winning a card game made her this happy.
“I have a feeling your streak is just starting.”
“Can we go again?”
In that moment, with her eyes shining with excitement, I realized there was nothing she could ask me that I wouldn’t do.
It was bloody terrifying.
“Of course, love. Why don’t you deal?” My hands shook when I handed her the deck. With perfect clarity I suddenly saw my whole future laid out before me. One road began with Hope and was filled with unknown twists and turns. It was a shorter journey, sure, but one filled with excitement, joy and . . . maybe love?
The other journey continued my current existence. Part of a pack, a family I loved, but . . . without her. It stretched before me. Unending. Straightforward. Flat. And steeped in the same loneliness I’d existed in for years.
But hadn’t I been happy? Or had I just been so good at pretending I’d even fooled myself?
42
HOPE
“Here you go, love,” Jason said and pressed a twenty dollar bill into my hand.
I stared at it, half expecting it to jump up and bite me. “Jason . . . I can’t take your money. I didn’t have any to play with in the first place.”
“You won it fair and square, love.”
No part of me thought it was right to take the money, but something about the stubborn tilt to his jaw convinced me not to argue. Maybe I could slip it into his room another time?
“Well, thank you.”
My grumbled, insincere reply pulled a laugh from Jason, and just like that I was mesmerized.
I loved it when he laughed, both the sound—rich and full of amusement—and the way he did it—full bodied and with all his heart. His head was thrown back, and my eyes were drawn to the strong column of his throat.
When his laughter died down, I was squirming in my seat, uncomfortable in a warm, tingly way I couldn’t explain.
Jason watched me as I fidgeted. Tilting his head and taking a deep breath, his gaze flickered over my face and lingered on my mouth.
Then he moved his eyes down my body and smiled, playful and with enough teeth showing to remind me of Ruarc. “You need to buy some clothes.”
I followed his gaze. Ruarc had swapped out the old clothes I’d borrowed with some of his. All black, of course, and very comfortable, the sweats were so large I could have quadrupled in size and still had room to spare.
“I . . . I have to wait until I start working—”
“Bullshit.”
I jerked back. His tone wasn’t really harsh, but it was short. Not like Jason at all. “I don’t have money yet and I—”
“Ash already told you he would take it out of your future salary.” His voice gentled. “The truth, now, love.”
“I . . .” Hanging my head, I racked my brain for a believable response other than; ‘I’m too afraid to leave the house.’ But was that still the truth? I’d left with Ruarc and Lucien, and nothing had happened. Well, not nothing. Discovering the Hunters were looking for me didn’t count as nothing. But they hadn’t found me, and by now they would’ve moved on. The town was small enough that I’d have been surprised if they looked for more than a day.
Jason slid closer and threw an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Talk to me.”
To say yes would probably be stupid. Careless, even. But I wanted to. And not because I was dying to get new clothes, but because I wanted to be brave. I wanted to stop making choices solely based on fear.
And if part of the reason I wanted to say yes was because I didn’t want to disappoint Jason, was that so bad?
“You’re right.” I let my inner self lo
ose for a victorious dance at Jason’s startled look. “I’ll go.”
“Tomorrow, then,” he said with a wide grin, having already swallowed his surprise. “I’ll take you tomorrow.”
The room shrunk around me, compressing my lungs. “T-tomorrow?”
“Yep.” A flicker of uncertainty flashed through his amber eyes, and I knew then that I couldn’t say no. Not any more. “Unless you have plans I’m not aware of?”
“I . . . no.”
“Excellent!” Genuine excitement shone on his grinning face. He gave my shoulder a squeeze before pulling back, looking vibrant and alive and so handsome that my breath hitched. “Shall we say, right after breakfast?”
“O-okay.”
Jumping to his feet, Jason looked down at me with a beaming smile. “You’ll have a great time, love. Take a moment and write a list of all the things you want so you don’t forget anything.” Without waiting for me to reply, he sprang up from the couch, flashed me a grin, and left.
I guess I should make a list? Dread mixed with excitement. I’d never been shopping before, at least not that I could remember. While in the Hunters’ care I hadn’t really thought about clothes or material goods, although I often longed for books or movies—the few I’d had access to had been taken away years ago as punishment for my first escape attempt, and despite the physical pain they inflicted, losing those items had been the far greater blow.
I shook my head, dislodging painful memories, and pictured Jason’s face just as I’d agreed to go. He’d given me one of his rarer smiles, the ones that went all the way to his eyes and made them shine with warmth.
Shopping will be fun, I decided as I got to my feet.
Maybe I could even get Ruarc to come with us, get his opinion. If not, I’d at least have Jason. The clothes he wore suited his personality, looking both stylish and comfortable. He’d know what I should buy.
Deciding I would let Jason or Ruarc pick out my clothes dissipated some of the dread coiling in my stomach. I wouldn’t have to make a fool of myself by showing them I had no idea how to dress or pick out clothes.