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What the fuck?
I was not, was absolutely not turned on by Wolf.
I was never turned on by anyone. My body didn't work that way.
And I wasn't like... flattered that he thought about me when he jacked off either. That was crazy. He was quite literally holding me captive. There was no longer making excuses like he was trying to hide me from the cops who were swarming everywhere. It had been two nights. There was no reason for him to keep me there. Except that he was being a total creepy kidnapper.
I threw myself backward onto the bed, feet dangling off the end like a kid, and covered my face in my hands. He needed to leave. He needed to leave and I needed to trick Harley and Chopper into letting me outside somehow. Then I needed to get the hell out of there. Because, fact of the matter was, I was going stir crazy. That was why I was getting all weird about Wolf. I had nothing to do to occupy my mind and it was looping over things it needed not to.
Like the fact that Lex Keith was very likely still alive. It was a fact I couldn't confirm because I had no friggen computer or cell phone or anything to tap into the dark web or the city cameras. Chances were he was still out there causing his particular reign of terror. And I had been given a chance of ending that and I failed. I failed at saving a ton of future people from him. I failed at trying to erase my demons. And in failing to do all of that, I fucked up my entire life for no good reason. I had convinced myself that if it worked, if I took him out... it would all be worth it: losing my home, losing the respect of my coworkers, ruining my friendship with Lo.
Now it was all for nothing.
And I could never go back.
I could never go back and going forward meant going into something new and unknown. What was I supposed to do? Get a day job? Work at a computer company fixing hard drives ruined by malicious porn sites? Work at a bookstore? Get an overnight job so no one thought it was weird that I didn't sleep like a normal person? I couldn't pop back up on the radar of the criminal underbelly. Not without Hailstorm around to back me up. I was very likely going to find myself on the hit lists of at least three criminal organizations. If I popped up, they would know and they would find me. So I had to go straight. I had to bury the parts of me that knew the best way to construct a bomb; I had to forget that I could bring any corporation to its knees by hacking into their mainframe; I had to pretend I didn't know Krav Maga and how to assemble a M-16 as fast as a soldier in basic training.
Jstorm would disappear.
Leaving me just Janie again for the first time in eight years.
I wasn't sure I would even recognize her anymore.
But if what I had been getting a taste of the past two days in the woods was anything to go by, I would not adjust well. Already, the walls I had built between me and the things that had happened to me were crumbling. I was having a problem controlling my emotions. I was losing my shit.
Great.
"Arm."
Augh. I was getting really sick of him not talking to me like a normal person. Like... really sick of it. I kind of wanted to smack him every time he tried to communicate an entire sentence in a word. "Fuck off," I said, not bothering to open my eyes.
"Suit yourself," he growled, sounding about as patient as I felt that morning as he reached down and grabbed my arm, dragging it up roughly enough to nearly pull it from its socket. My eyes shot open, surprised. Everything about him had been gentle toward me before. His strength was a threat he kept reined in carefully, never putting his hands on me with anything but the gentlest of touches. There was a noticeable tension in him even after a shower and, um, the activities in the shower. His shoulders were stiff, his brows drawn low, his mouth in a firm line. He dropped my wrist and started wrapping my arm with moist gauze. But this time, he wasn't carefully laying it down, fingers soft and deft. No, he was wrapping it around my arm with the same kind of carelessly violent way one wraps a vacuum chord up after a long day at work only to come home to find the dog had knocked over one of your potted plants and there was dirt everywhere. He did it with a sort of resigned frustration.
Well... fuck him.
I jerked my arm back out of his reach. "I'll do it myself if you're going to be a dickhead about it," I growled.
His eyes rose to mine, searching my face for a long minute before he let out a sigh. He held out his arm, palm open, like he was expecting me to put my arm there. He could expect all he wanted; he wasn't getting my cooperation. "Janie," he said, his voice quiet, but there was still a hint of frustration there.
"I don't know what you have to be frustrated about," I told him, watching his face. "I believe I'm the one being held somewhere against their will with the threat of being mauled if I tried to step foot over the threshold and absolutely nothing to do all day or all night when I can't sleep. Like... seriously. You have no right to be all grumpy and rough with me when the only reason I am here is because you, for fuck-knows what reason, are keeping me here. You wouldn't have to wrap my arm every day if you would let me go."
"Staying here," he said simply, taking my wrist again, but much more gently.
