by T. S. Joyce
He released her hand and locked his fingers behind his head. “You were hurt and I was losing you, and dammit, Corin, it felt like I was losing myself too. My people were pissed. No. That’s a colossal understatement. They were ready to skin me alive, and I could either put my head down and barrel through it, or give in and let them have Bear Valley. Fuck.” He flung his hands away and stopped. Facing her, he said, “I killed my own people, Corin. You should know what kind of man I am. I killed my own.” His eyes were tortured and filled with unchecked grief.
She placed the palm of her hand against his chest and he winced and angled his shoulder away.
“How many?”
“Nine, just at my hand. And I wasn’t the only one fighting to kill.”
Nausea bubbled up the back of her throat. She didn’t even want to know the final head count of how many had been killed. “Why?”
“Because if they lived, they would kill me and anyone who supported me, and then they’d take Bear Valley. They’d take you.”
“Was Mace one of them?”
“He led them, yes.”
“And him coming for me, that was his last move?”
Anger flashed across Brooks’ eyes, and he focused his gaze somewhere above her shoulder. “He was desperate. He got what he deserved at the hands of your clan.”
Inhaling deeply, she cupped his cheek with her palm and brought his eyes back to her. “You’re changing.”
The sound of his whiskers scratching accompanied the rough texture against her palm, and she smiled at the contrast of the cold, empty man she’d first met at camp, and the reachable man who leaned into her touch now.
“In a good way or a bad way?” he asked, his expression raw and vulnerable.
“In the best of ways,” she said, her breath hitching. “Don’t let the souls of a battle you couldn’t avoid rest too heavy on your soul, Brooks. They would’ve killed you and any good you had done their clan if you didn’t defend yourself. You’re changing in a good way, and you’re changing the Long Claws for the better too. Everyone spoke of how Nathan was supposed to make history for his clan. It was you who was fated to ally the clans. Only an ancient bear with a heart as strong as yours could bring peace to the Long Claws.”
His fingers slid up the length of her arm and rested on her hand, pressing it to his cheek. “I’m no good for you now, but someday I will be,” he promised in a low voice. His eyes were so steady, so serious, and she believed him.
“Tell me how you came to be with the Long Claws, Brooks. Tell me once and I’ll never ask again. Best you get it out of you and share it with someone who will understand. With someone who was there when you were taken, who knows the sacrifice you made.”
“Corin, please…” His face crumpled in on itself like he was utterly lost and couldn’t go on.
She hugged him so tightly, burying her face against his shoulder. “I won’t even look at you. Just tell me once. I love you, and whatever you have to say won’t change the way I feel. I promise.”
Breath ragged, he slid his hands slowly around her back and pulled her closer. “I don’t remember being hurt, or waking up or anything like that. It’s just bits and pieces before Magdalena. I didn’t have any memories, and she told me I was hers. I thought it must be true because she acted so natural, like I’d just hit my head or something and it pushed my childhood memories away. She was older and strict. She taught me how to hate, and then she taught me to feel nothing at all. She loved me until I wanted to die, so inside, I did.”
A tear slid down Corin’s cheek and made a dark spot against the navy stretch T-shirt pulled taut against Brooks’ chest. “Did she hurt you?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes and hated the question that tumbled from her mouth. “Did she touch you?”
He sighed, long and unsteady. “Yes. She was a Long Claw. She had been trained to take what she wanted, and she had a taste for young boys.”
“Where is she now?” Because if that bitch was alive, Corin was going to kill her slowly.
“She died in a battle against Blood Den. You smell angry, and you’re shaking. Speak.”
“You were supposed to grow into a man beside me. I was supposed to be your first and only, and you were taken from me the day I lost everything.” A sob escaped her lips and she shook her head to ward off the tears that were threatening to spill and never stop tumbling down her face. “And I was taken away from you. Were you even allowed to be a child, Brooks? Were there any happy moments in your life after you awoke a Long Claw.”
He didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes on how dark his life had been. No. He was trying and couldn’t even conjure one good memory that outweighed the bad. No wonder he was so empty when she’d first seen him again. Over the course of a decade, he’d been stripped to nothing but vengeance and darkness.
“It doesn’t matter what they made you do, Brooks. You are already good enough for me. You are worthy of love, and you are redeemable. Magdalena doesn’t have you anymore. I do, and I promise my love will be the gentle kind you deserve.”
A helpless noise wrenched from him and he eased back only far enough for his lips to collide with hers. Gripping his shirt, she grazed her teeth over his bottom lip. Fuck the old Long Claws with their heartless hooks in his soul, and Magdalena with her toxic love that ruined the boy she knew. Corin would be patient and would never give up on him. She would fill his life so deeply with love that someday, he would learn to feel again.
Today, he was incapable of loving her completely, but someday, somehow, she would give him the tools he needed to find happiness again.
Chapter Fourteen
Nervous flutters lobbed around inside Corin’s stomach as she led Brooks up the dirt path to her house. This was the first time he would see how she lived, and a huge part of her wanted him to approve of her tiny cottage—of her tiny life.
Intimidating to the core, the alpha of the Long Claws probably lived in a large house among his people. But she had to serve tables for a living and her home wasn’t much more than an efficient one room shelter. She loved it, and she hoped he would too.
Shooting one last glance over her shoulder at his stoic expression, she pushed the door open and watched his face. He took in the scuffed wood floors, and the sunny wildflowers on the small dining table. He took in the matching daffodil colored curtains, and the brightly painted walls.
The smile started slow on his lips, and as he looked around, it grew deeper. Her breath caught as the dimple she had thought she’d never see again notched his left cheek.
“You always liked purple. I remember,” he said in a deliciously deep baritone voice.
She couldn’t take her eyes from his beautiful smile. His unexpected grin filled her with such a feeling of home, and she pressed her thumb against the mark, the last needed proof that Brooks had been the boy she loved. Now, he was the man who held her heart.
“You like it?” she asked as shyness forced a blushing heat up her neck and into her cheeks.
The smile dipped from his face as his gaze met hers, only to return at the corners. “It’s just right. Come here.” He dropped his duffle bag by the door and gripped her waist, his fingers finding their way under the fabric of her shirt.
Slow trails of warmth followed his fingertips and she dropped her eyes to his sensual mouth. She wanted to taste the smile that still lingered there. Rising on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his, and he backed her slowly to the bed.
“Did you touch yourself when we were apart?” he asked against her lips.
She should be embarrassed, really she should, but she was comfortable with him. He didn’t play games, she knew that now. He was curious. No agenda, no gathering ammunition to use against her later, this was just how he communicated, stripping conversation to its barest elements and eliminating meaningless words until he asked for only what he wanted to know.
“Yes.” The back of her knees hit the bed and she folded onto it.
&nb
sp; As she scooted backward, he began to stalk her, his burning eyes never leaving hers.
“And did you think of me?” he asked, lower and huskier now.
His dominance was eking out of him, but she fought the urge to drop her gaze. He should see the truth in her words. “I’ve always thought about you.”
“Good,” he rumbled as he tugged her ankle gently to stop her backward motion. Settling between her hips, he lowered himself onto her and kissed her ear, her neck, the tip of her collar bone. “I’ve thought about this moment a lot. I thought I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming into you like a rutting beast, I wanted you so badly.” Her shirt bunched helplessly in his strong hands, and he pulled it over her head and tossed it to the floor. Eyes smoldering, he raked a hungry gaze down her chest and to the waist of her jeans. “But that night in the tent was the first time I took it slow with anyone, and I want that again.”
Corin rocked her hips against the length of his erection. “And what if I don’t want it slow?”
He growled and met her hips, driving a long, hard stroke against her jeans as he growled deep in his chest. Gripping her hair and arching her head back, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t tempt me to lose myself, woman. You’re still new at this and need a gentle touch until you’re stretched to take me easier.”
Holy shit, if he kept talking like this, she was going to detonate. The button of her jeans snapped and the sound of the zipper pulling slowly filled the room. Panting, she tried to pull his shirt over his head.
In a rush, he balked and grabbed her hand. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His dark gaze held silent warning.
“Okay,” she breathed, stung that he was still posturing in the safety of her home. She wasn’t a dominant, nor would the thought ever occur to attack him if she realized how hurt he really was. His lack of trust was a bitter taste in her mouth. She could almost feel another wall slamming down between them as he hovered over her, studying her face.
Quietly, he said, “This can wait.” Then he slid off the bed, and strode for the door.
He was leaving. After a few blinding moments of happiness together, he was running again.
Anger burned through her veins, igniting her bold tongue. “Why are you so afraid of me?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” His voice sounded strange. Defeated, maybe, but his tone held only honest notes. He really wasn’t afraid of anything. Shouldering his duffle bag, he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
The tap to the shower sounded, and she stood, staring at the door with a frown so deep it hurt her face.
What was she supposed to do? Give him space to pull away from her even further? No. Whatever he was thinking, whatever darkness he had holed up in him would eat at him from the inside out. If she didn’t knock his demons loose, who would?
“Fuck.” His muttered oath drifted through the closed door. Pain, anger and something more tainted the word and made the tiny hairs on her ears lift in discomfort.
The entire house was beginning to smell like ozone. Like the power that came after a big storm and every step she took toward the bathroom made her stomach tingle with disquiet.
Whatever was happening in there, he wanted hidden, but he was hers. Didn’t he understand that? Whatever dark secrets he harbored were safe with her. She was strong enough to share the burden.
The knob was cold under her hand, unnaturally so, but she twisted it anyway and pushed the door open. Wads of bandages filled the trashcan, fragrant with blood in different stages of drying. Her bear came to the surface, intrigued by the scent and worried about her mate.
Her mate?
Brooks stood in the shower, hands on the wall, staring at her through the glass door as steaming water rained down onto his shoulders. The stream near his feet ran burgundy, and his eyes churned an inhuman mercury color.
Dropping her gaze, she slipped out of her jeans and folded them neatly onto the sink. Her bra and panties were next, and, holding her breath in hopes that his bear wouldn’t shred her, she opened the shower door and slipped in behind him. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested them gently against his taut abdomen. It seemed to be the only place he wasn’t injured.
His body had been cut and sliced, and scars in every shade of age and healing crisscrossed his skin. He had obviously been fighting for his life, for her life, and for the lives of Bear Valley at the cost of his flesh.
Pressing her cheek against his back, the raining water hid her tears. “I’m scarred too,” she whispered. It hadn’t bothered her much until now, when she realized Brooks would never see her unmarred. “Will you show me?”
“Why?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“Because you sharing everything with me will only make me love you more.”
His hand slid up her arm and held her hand in place against his stomach, and a shuddering sigh escaped him. His voice sounded strangled when he said, “Why do you keep saying that. How can you love someone like me? I’ve killed people, Corin. Ten years of killing just like every other Long Claw.”
Turning her face, she rested her forehead against the tensed muscles of his back and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “You didn’t know any other way. The Long Claws molded you into the enforcer they needed. What’s important to me is how you live your life from here on. You won’t scare me off, Brooks. So stop trying.”
Straightening, he turned and lifted his chin as she studied his shredded chest. His eyes were expressionless, emotionless—as empty as the first time she’d seen him. She hated that he could turn it off so easily.
The water had washed away the old, dry blood, and the extent of his injuries made her shake her head back and forth in denial that he could sustain such abuse and still be upright. It was a testament to how strong he really was that he’d survived the Long Claws at all.
And his eyes, so cold as he watched her…she wanted to embrace him until he softened under her touch once again.
Turning to give him her back, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Now, we match.”
He ran a light fingertip over the clawed scars that ran down her spine and sides. She only looked at them when she was putting on the medicines Anya had made for her.
“I’m going to take care of you,” she promised. “You don’t have to hide from me, Brooks Butler. The fates have given us another chance, and I’m not wasting the time they gave us chasing you. Stop running from me.” She turned and glared at him through her damp eyelashes.
The strong cords of his throat moved as he swallowed. “What do you want from me?”
“Everything.”
His chin lowered and tilted as he stalked her. “Done,” he said, just before his mouth came down on hers.
Brooks dipped his tongue deeper and deeper against hers, and his jutting erection pressed against her belly. If she was hurting him, he showed no signs of it as he spun her and pressed her back against the cold tiled wall.
All of the gentleness had melted away from him and she was glad. She didn’t want him forcing himself to be soft. Not this time. She wanted him as he was now. Not as the dim memory she harbored of Daniel, but as Brooks, dominant alpha and mature, ravenous man.
“Please,” she begged, biting his bottom lip as a snarl ripped out of him.
His fingers gripped her hair and arched her neck. He trailed biting kisses down her sensitive flesh and shoved his knee in between hers, widening her stance.
Shower water splashed against her cheek and she closed her eyes to better lose herself to Brooks’ affection. Now he was rutting, insatiable and rough, and she found it incredibly alluring. She had the power to make one of the strongest bear shifters in the world lose control.
He slid a hand between her legs and pressed a finger inside of her, as if testing that she was ready to take him. Pushing his hand away, she growled, “No. I want you. All of you, Brooks. Now.”
His breath came in short pants as he reared back a
nd thrust into her. She cried out as he stretched her, and pleasure began to build on the second plunging stroke. Propping her arms on his shoulders, she gripped his hair as he set a punishing pace, powerful hips flexing with every thrust. She met him, arching into him over and over. His kisses left her lips swollen and throbbing, but still she wanted more.
She was so close and he lifted the back of one of her knees, his muscles straining as he rammed into her even deeper. This was it. “Brooks,” she panted. His name on her lips seemed to send him over the edge with her.
“Aah,” he yelled as he bucked against her hard one last time.
Throbbing heat shot into her as she exploded around him. Floating and falling all at once, she closed her eyes against the dizzying ecstasy. She wanted him inside her forever, connected just like this. Here she could see into his soul. He shared himself with her when they were bound like this.
“Corin.”
“Mmm?”
“Corin, have I hurt you?”
Was she sore? Hell yes. The man was huge, but hurt her? No. It was the only way he knew to show her the affection he was incapable of doing when they were just talking. Such intimacy with the man she adored could never hurt. Inhaling deeply against his throat, she smiled and shook her head.
His shoulders relaxed and he slumped forward with a relieved sounding chuckle. She lived for that sound on his lips and she smiled wider as she nuzzled his neck.