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“It was you. At the funeral. I mean, afterwards. Out in the swamps. With Harrison and Blake.”
He stared at me, not answering. But I didn’t need the answer—I knew it was true.
“You! It was you."
The wolf who’d saved me.
And me, the little bunny, ensnared in his wonderful world.
CHAPTER 36
Rook
Her pain had hit me in the chest like a punch. And her tears...they’d made me feel so…
Powerless.
Something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Fucking Saul. Fucking, fucking Saul.
To think, all this time, she'd thought that the death of her mother was her fault.
As if an innocent creature such as her could do something so vile.
And she'd carried that burden for so long, the memory trapped in her mind, leaving her with so much guilt.
She’d only been a child, for fucks sake. That alone would be grounds for forgiveness.
But the fact that Saul had been there that night, something I hadn't known—that he’d caused the accident. Watched as Melanie burned alive, screaming as her sweet, sweet daughter had fought to save her mom…
He’d touched her. Carried her from the car. Held her back.
Had put his damn, fucking hands on her.
I was going to kill him, starting with the hands attached to his arms…
I’d bathed her gently. Reveling in the bruising between her thighs, a roaring pride at my marks on her perfect skin.
It was sick, I knew it.
And now, we were in bed, skin against skin, my arms curled around her protectively, cocooning her in warmth.
Her eyes were closed, her face pressed to me. Almost still, except for the minute motion of her head, where she softly rubbed her lips across my bare chest.
How long had it been since I'd felt so at peace? So cared for… so … loved?
A reminder of the last time I’d felt the sensation—before Douglass’ dying words had broken everything inside me, leaving me with an inability to trust and a dead heart.
My old fears suddenly rose to the surface, ones long buried deep within my consciousness. The ones I'd learned to swallow down so deep inside me, I was certain they would never resurface.
My fingers curled in her hair, smoothing it over, then ran over the skin of her shoulder. It was silky soft. Unblemished. I bit down on it, wanting to leave my mark. The sudden desire to destroy her innocence with pain—my pain.
“Rook,” she gasped, lips parting. But she didn’t open her eyes. Instead, pressed a soft kiss against my chest. Still curled up next to me.
The pain inside blossomed into guilt.
I was driven by the need to destroy. And she took it all, transforming it into something soft and sweet.
