Rogue Heart

by Samantha Wolfe

  Suddenly, the painful and lonely melancholy that I usually keep hidden away deep inside myself clenches at my heart, and Lyric immediately looks up and frowns at me. I realize it's because she can feel it too.

  "Ronan?" she asks. "Where is your pack?"

  "Don't have one," I say, my voice coming out in a low rasp. I look away from her, not wanting to see the sympathy in her eyes that I can already feel through our connection. It feels entirely too much like pity for my tastes.

  "What about a family, or friends?" she asks.

  I turn to meet her concerned eyes with a blank mask as I try to battle my emotions. "Dead and gone," I say as my eyes sting.

  "I'm sorry," she whispers as she reaches up to cradle my cheek in her palm. Her touch and her sincere sympathy only make me feel worse as more pain and sadness hammer into me.

  Somehow she's managed to rip me open and expose all of my raw and vulnerable emotions, and in this moment, I can't seem to shove them back down like I normally would. I feel untethered, weak and exposed, and I don't fucking like it. I abruptly sit up and scoot away from her touch in seek of relief, but not before I feel a flash of her hurt feelings. Fuck, I'm such a socially stunted dick when it comes to other people.

  I snatch up my jeans, then stand with my back to Lyric as I pull them on, ignoring my wolf's sudden and insistent clamor to return to her and hold her close. I finally manage to get my shit together without her touching me, and shove my wolf and my unwanted emotions back down where they belong. Good God, I need to get the fuck out of here before I lose it again. I can't afford this kind of distraction or entanglement with anyone, and it's yet another reason why I'm better off alone. I'm here for a reason, to avenge my parents, not to fuck this woman I barely know in the woods while the man responsible continues to breathe.

  The sudden guilt I feel at that thought presses down on me, and the pain and loneliness that I squashed a moment ago takes advantage of my vulnerability to surge back up again and join in. The heavy combination of emotions is overwhelming and debilitating. I've held all these devastating feelings contained deep inside myself for so very long, that I thought I was over it, safe from it, but I was so fucking wrong. It was merely waiting there all this time for a weakness to exploit. I squeeze my eyes shut and just stand there hunched over with my T-shirt dangling from my fingers as I fight to keep from collapsing to my knees under the leaden weight of it all.

  Then, tentative and gentle fingertips are caressing over the tense and rigid muscles along my spine. Lyric's arms twine around my waist as her soft skin presses against my bare back, and her cheek comes to rest on my shoulder blade. I sigh as a warm wave of comfort and affection pours into me with her touch, easing some of my suffering.

  "Ronan," she whispers. "Shh, it's okay."

  One of her hands slides over my belly in slow and gentle circles as she turns her head to brush her lips over my skin. As much as she laid me painfully bare a few moments ago, now she works her alchemy on me with the complete opposite effect. It feels so good...too good really, since I don't deserve it.

  "No," I reply in a roughened voice as I shake my head. "It isn't okay. Not as long as I allow the man who's responsible for my parent's deaths to live."

  Lyric gasps in reaction, and I cringe inwardly. Fuck, I didn't mean to say that out loud. But there's something about this woman that makes me want to share things I usually keep to myself with her, makes me want to trust her. It makes no sense. Her arms latch tightly around me in a hug as her shock turns into sympathy and dawning understanding.

  "That's why you're all alone, isn't it," she says. "Because of this man."

  I nod as I rest a hand over hers and grip it tight over my aching and lonely heart, letting more of her comfort trickle in to lessen more of the pain. Good God, I could become addicted to it.

  "And you're here to kill him, right?" she says with a sharp edge as righteous anger rises up inside her on my behalf.

  "Yes," I say.

  "You don't have to do this alone," she says. "I'm here now. I can help you."

  "No," I say harshly as I shake my head vehemently. "It has to be me, sugar." I'll be damned if anyone else kills that bastard but me.

  "I'm not asking to help you kill the piece of shit," she says with a frown. "But there must be something I can do." She sighs softly, then adds in a pleading tone, "Please, let me help you."

  I huff out a harsh and heavy breath. If I was a good man, I wouldn't even be considering taking her up on her offer. I'll just drag her down, then break her heart when she realizes that I'm not the man she thinks I am, or worse, get her hurt or killed. But I'm not a good man. She's a local, and I'm not above using that fact or doing anything else I have to do to ensure that Rett Weylin pays for his crimes. That's all that matters.

  "I need a place to stay where I can lay low until I get the job done," I say.

  I feel her gratification as she nods and smiles against my back. "I know just the place."

  "Good," I say as I shove down the guilt that tries to rise up inside me for using her like this, because that's exactly what I'm doing here.

  Like I said, I'm not a good man, but then again, the man who made me that way isn't either. And what better way is there to kill a monster, than to be one myself.

  14

  LYRIC

  I grip the steering wheel tightly as my truck jounces along the deeply rutted dirt and gravel path that can barely be labeled a driveway. Ronan's headlights jump and jolt along behind me as we wind our way through the surrounding trees. I glance in my mirror and cringe guiltily at the thought of his beautiful electric blue Mustang getting damaged in any way. Then I sigh and turn back to the road, and am relieved to see our destination up ahead. The path curves as I enter a clearing and my truck's lights sweep across it, briefly illuminating a small rustic-looking A-frame wood cabin with a tiny front porch and a matching pull barn nearby.

  The cabin and wooded property just a few miles outside of Harrisville were owned by Rowdy Boudreau, the former owner of Rowdy's Tavern, a local dive bar halfway between Wolcott and Harrisville. Rowdy was murdered by that demonborn bastard Chavez, who posed as the new owner of the bar to hide the crime while he waited for his chance to snatch Raven. Recent gossip around town is that Rowdy didn't have any family to inherit his estate, so the future of the property is in limbo for now, and it should be empty for the foreseeable future. The place is pretty remote and far from any prying eyes too. Ronan should be able to stay hidden away here for a while.

  I follow the drive until it ends in front of the pull barn and park the vehicle in the small pool of light shining down from the flood light mounted above the garage door. Ronan pulls in next to me as I kill the engine. I open my door and climb out, then approach the Mustang as Ronan gets out of the low vehicle. He closes his door and watches me with an unreadable and stony expression as I approach, then shifts away a step when I'm within touching distance. I frown. He's been doing that every time I get close to him since we got dressed and left the woods where we had sex.

  I know the mating bond is scaring him, especially since the emotional aspect of it was something he didn't know about. It is disconcerting to feel someone else's feelings bouncing around in your head, not to mention being emotionally laid bare to another person like this. I felt his fear one of the brief moments when his guard was down, in addition to the most profound pain and sadness I've ever felt that just about broke my heart. I can't say as I blame him for being afraid, and to be honest I kind of am too, but it still hurts every time he avoids me. If this is just a taste of how Emmett felt when Raven panicked over their mating bond, then it's no wonder he was beside himself when she actually rejected him and sent him away. The very thought of that happening to me makes me feel sick inside.

  "Who lives here?" he asks gruffly as he pulls his eyes away from mine to survey the slightly overgrown property around us.

  "A dead guy," I reply in a terse and grumpy voice with no other explanation. I'm aching to tou
ch him, but can't for fear of how he'll react. He already freaked out and pulled away from me once while I was touching him after our mating bond was established. The last thing I want to do is get that reaction again, but not being able to touch him, when I want to so badly, sucks ass.

  He frowns and gives me a questioning expression, seemingly unaffected by my presence, like I am by his, or my poor attitude. Jerk. Frustrated, I spin on my heels and stomp away toward the cabin without another word, ignoring my stinging eyes. I step up onto the tiny porch and approach the door, the heat and scent of Ronan's body enveloping me as he comes up behind my back. The raw need to turn and throw myself into his arms is so strong that I have to clench my hands into fists as I resist the urge. I fight it down then reach out to turn the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it's locked. I growl in annoyance and rattle it violently, like that's going to open it, as my eyes burn with more unshed tears. Ronan reaches out to lay a hand on my arm, over my sleeve of course so he doesn't actually touch my skin.

  "Easy, sugar," he says, using an endearment that just pisses me the hell off right now.

  I jerk my arm away from him and whirl to shoot a hard glare at him, its impact probably lessened by the fact that tears are now trickling down my face.

  His eyes flick down to my wet cheeks as his stony expression wavers, his brows furrowing and his lips pressing into a flat line. He reaches up toward my face with his right hand, then pauses several inches away from touching me as he starts to tremble. I see fear and longing wavering in and out of his eyes as he wages a battle within himself. After a moment, his hand starts to lower back to his side, and that's not what I want at all. Pain and sorrow engulf me at his rejection, and I can't take it.

  "Please," I sob out quietly as more tears blur my vision. I'm not above begging for what I want, what I need. "Please, touch me, Ronan."

  His eyes soften completely then, and he steps forward immediately and wraps me up in his arms. He pulls me against his warm body, and his cheek comes to rest on my temple as I hug his waist. I feel him trembling against me as a maelstrom of stark fear and desperate need surge into me. And all of it is underscored with a deep loneliness and pain-edged sorrow that he must always carry with him since I feel it every time we touch.

  I've never felt anything so raw and gut-wrenching before, but it's no wonder since his parents were killed, and he has no pack. I can't even imagine what that would be like since my family, my pack, are everything to me. My poor Ronan. My heart aches as I press closer into his chest and cry harder, but this time it's for him. Of course, he can feel that through the bond, and he responds with a wave of guilt and even more sadness as he stiffens in my arms.

  "Don't cry for me, sugar," he says roughly with his scruff rubbing against my skin. "My head has been a fucked-up place for a really long time. I'm okay. I'm used to it."

  Okay? Used to it? How could he be okay or get used to that kind of constant emotional suffering? I pull my head back and stare at him in horrified incredulity.

  "How could anyone be okay with that, let alone get used to it?" I whisper as I reach up to cradle his gorgeous face in my hands.

  "It's not like I have a choice," he says in a bitter tone, his eyes glittering with emotion. "What other way can I deal with it?" he asks with a frown.

  "Like this," I say, then summon up every ounce of compassion and tenderness I feel for this man and push it toward him through our bond. I don't even know how I'm doing it since it's pure instinct, but somehow it works just like the last time in the woods.

  Immediately, the tension in Ronan's body starts to subside, and I feel the pain and sadness begin to recede in the wake of my ministrations. He lets out a deep shuddering breath of sheer relief and finally relaxes in my arms. I pull his lips down to mine and press a soft kiss to them as what I suddenly now realize is love continues pouring out of me into Ronan. He moans and kisses me back with a sweet gentleness I've never felt from him before as I feel a matching sentiment of warmth and affection coming through our bond.

  It's wonderfully glorious for about half a second, until a sudden surge of panic and guilt overtakes his emotions. He abruptly yanks his mouth from mine with a startled gasp, then wrenches away from me and puts a few feet of distance between us. I instinctively step forward with my arms outstretched to comfort him yet again, but he flings out a staying hand to stop me.

  "Don't," he says with panic still gleaming in his eyes.

  His rejection lances my heart with searing pain and another sob escapes as I drop my arms to hug myself in a self-soothing gesture that doesn't help at all. He instantly makes a pained and apologetic expression.

  "Shit," he mutters as he steps toward me then pauses with a fearful look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, this is...is just too much," he explains. "I...I can't...I don't-"

  "It's okay. I get it." I cut him off before he hurts me even more with whatever he's about to say next. "I'll just go." I turn to hurry down the porch steps and make a beeline for my truck.

  The raw and open wound in my heart grows larger, rending me further apart with each step I take away from him. My she-wolf turns distraught and urges me to go back to our mate, but I fight her off and quicken my steps. I'm not going to stay here prolonging the pain or make a blubbering fool out of myself anymore than I already have tonight. I just want to go home so I can curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep in peace.

  Of course that would be too easy since I can hear and feel Ronan following me across the yard. He comes up next me, just as I reach out toward my truck's door handle, and places a hand on the window to keep me from opening it.

  "Lyric," he says in a confused tone. "What are you doing?"

  "You don't want me here, so I'm leaving," I say as I fight down more sobs.

  "No," he replies.

  "I need to go," I say as I turn to glare at him through my tear blurred vision. A sob manages to shudder out of me.

  His face hardens forbiddingly as he stares me down. "No," he say. "I don't want you to leave. I...I just...I just can't..." he trails off with a distressed expression.

  "Can't what?" I ask. "Can't even stand to touch me?"

  His only response is a guilty flinch that fillets my heart open even more.

  "Just let me go," I whisper.

  He frowns and lowers his hand from the truck door, and I pull it open, feeling desperate to get out of here. I start to climb into the cab when I hear his barely audible voice speak in a vulnerable and broken tone.

  "I...I can't touch you...because...because I don't deserve it."

  "What?" I ask as I pause and turn to see his anguished face and defeated demeanor.

  "I don't deserve your comfort...your...your kindness." He bows his head and stares at the ground. "You," he adds in a whisper.

  "What?" I ask as I stare at him in stunned shock. "Why?"

  "Not...not until I avenge my parents," he continues.

  "Ronan," I say softly, soothingly. "I don't know about your parents, but mine wouldn't want that for me, even if someone killed them. They wouldn't want me to be alone, to not be comforted...or cared about...or even touched with kindness, just because their killer was still out there somewhere." I shake my head. "And if they did think that, then they were wrong. You deserve all those things."

  I step closer, relieved when he doesn't move away from me, and reach up tentatively to touch his cheek with gentle fingertips. He lets me do it and only flinches a little, so I consider it a victory. I can feel his guilt and pain through our bond, and unbelievably, a hint of hope.

  "You deserve me," I whisper as I stare into his glistening eyes.

  He sighs softly as he infinitesimally leans into my touch. His dubiousness with my words is unmistakable through the mating bond, but that hope is still there, still faint, yet stronger than it was a moment ago. It's yet another victory.

  "I'm going to go, but you should be safe and hidden away here," I say as I pull my hand from his face, not wanting to overwhelm him again or stress him out by staying any
longer. "The guy who owned the place died a few weeks ago, and has no relatives, so no one should be coming around any time soon." I frown. "But I don't have a key."

  "It's okay. I don't need one to get in," he says with a slight smirk that fades quickly. "But you can't tell anyone I'm here," he adds. "I can't take the risk of being discovered before I find my mark."

  "Alright," I answer immediately since I know how important this is to him. I won't be the reason he fails. I don't even ask him the name of the man he's looking for either. I figure the less I know about it the better. After all, I can't accidentally blurt out a name I don't even know. "Is it okay if I come back to see you?"

  He nods. "I want you to," he says gruffly. His face turns thoughtful for a second before he says, "Hold on."

  He steps away to open the Mustang's passenger door, then reaches in to open the glove box and pulls something out. He straightens and faces me again with what looks like a small cheap-looking cell phone in his hand. I watch him flip it open and type something into it before holding it out to me.

  "Here," he says. "Only call me on this. It's untraceable and has the number of my burner phone on it."

  I nod and take it, tucking it safely into my pocket. "I'll call you tomorrow."

  I wrench my eyes away from his, and turn to open my truck door, so I can leave. Even though I want to, I don't dare to touch him right now, for fear I'll upset him again. I climb up into the seat and reach for the door handle.