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Chapter Twelve
Jack
When Claire’s eyes had met mine as I helped Lana into her car, the feeling of hurt from her was so strong that it nearly brought me to my knees. Once again, I had hurt her. I hurt her even when I did my best to keep her safe from all the hurt that constantly circled us.
And as I rode in the car next to her, I could still feel that hurt and anger coming off her in waves. I tried to concentrate on the anger because there was something else that was much more troubling coming from her.
That feeling that she was, once again, not good enough.
“Claire,” I said, my tone soft and placating. The tone I knew I sometimes used with scared kids in sketchy domestic situations.
“Jack, I’m warning you. I don’t want to start this.”
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
“Never thought you did anything close to sleeping, Jack.” She smiled, bitterly. It should have made me angry, but instead, I hurt. Claire had endured things that a witch should never have to endure. At 24, she had endured more than most witches had dealt with in decades, if not centuries.
“Claire, I never wanted,” I began, but stopped. Because what would I tell her? Tell her she’s the one I want? I could never tell her that. If I told her that she would be a woman on a mission to complete the bond and as soon as that happened, she’d be on the path right to where Lana was now. I never wanted Claire to look at me with the anger and resentment that Lana showed when she talked about her bond mate.
And even if I told her my reason for keeping her at arm’s length, she would make promises that it never would. Promises that she could never keep because if all I knew of the bonding drug they’d used on Claire was correct, the only reason she still wanted me was because I’d never claimed her. Never made the bond permanent.
“Jack,” she said, and stopped with a sigh. Such an innocent sound, but one that always made my cock twitch. Because I could imagine exactly that sound coming from her lips right as I slid inside her.
“It would be much easier on me if you simply told me you didn’t want me. If you just washed your hands of me. Because I’m tired of this. You’re killing me, Jack.”
I was killing her. And truth was, she was killing me. Before long, we’d both be so tired and exhausted with the situation, we’d be bitter for the rest of our lives.
We needed a solution.
I thought of all the things I could say to her. Because giving her up completely — at least before she found someone who could protect her — wasn’t an option. I’d always feel her when she needed me, and there would be no way I could deny that pull. So what was the solution?
Before I said something stupid that we would both regret, Claire slowed the car as we approached a cluster of charred trees, smoking in the bright fall night. A firetruck was still idling on the side of the road, a firefighter getting the truck ready to ride off now that the fire was contained. The man gave us a wary look as we came to a stop beside the truck. As the man wasn’t a warlock, there was no way that Claire could identify herself as a member of the press, given that a witchkind publication employed her.
I, however, could identify myself as a cop. Giving the guy my credentials after he had assured me that someone had already been by, I thanked him and he let us slide past.
“Where could she be?” Claire asked.
As I looked around, I realized where we were. Somehow, Claire hadn’t realized it. She was too busy looking for any sign of Darla.
“Claire,” I said, knowing that my tone was full of concern and warning. I expected her to jump at me, but instead, she looked over. She squinted her eyes as she tried to assess the reason for my change of tone.
“You don’t realize where you are, do you?”
She looked around, taking in the sight of nothing but tree-lined highway.
“Can’t say that it looks any different than any other part of the highway to me.”
“Claire, this is where they took you that night.”
