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“Why the hell would you want to be like me?” His brow furrowed like he couldn’t begin to understand that.
“You don’t let anyone intimidate you. I don’t scare easily, but I’m not immune to fear like you are.”
He let out a short huff. “I wasn’t always this way.”
“Maybe, but you are now.”
Jace’s jaw clenched as if he were fighting not to grind his teeth. “I swear to myself every day that I’ll never give in. I refuse to be like my bastard of a father. But each morning I look in the mirror and I see him staring back at me, and there are so many things that take me back to that place. I let him haunt me, and I can’t help it. I still choke at the smell of cigars.” He twisted so she could see his forearm. A series of perfectly circular scars marred the inside of his arm. Bile burned at the back of Frankie’s throat at the thought of someone hurting a child in that way. “Don’t be like me. You can’t allow them to get the best of you. Don’t let yourself be abused.”
She didn’t know what made her do it, but she gently gripped his face in both hands, holding his gaze as she spoke to him. To underscore the seriousness of her words. “Jace, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to you, and you can’t be angry over frightening memories. All the pain you felt was real. It would’ve been too much for anyone to handle, and you were just a kid. That sort of pain leaves scars that go way deeper than the surface. And you don’t need to spend so much of your energy fighting not to be like him. You may have a lot of anger, but it’s easy to see that you’re a good person.” She ran her hand over his cheek, then released him.
He cleared his throat, glancing away from her, before he stared blankly at the wall, like he was reliving memories she couldn’t see. It took a moment before he responded. “And what does that say about me? I have to fight every day not to be some crazy, abusive drunk? Not to treat people like shit and kill the innocent? And half the time I’m barely succeeding. Lord knows I drown myself in liquor, even if my damn supernatural metabolism burns up the alcohol so quickly that I’m rarely drunk. What does that say about my character?”
“That you’re a good man. Because, despite any past trauma, you keep trying to do the right thing. Everyone has demons.”
He held up the flask. “This is going to hurt a little.” He tipped the container over and allowed the whiskey to pour across her burns. The wounds screamed with pain as the alcohol sanitized them. His hand fell back to his side. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
She smiled through the pain. “I’m glad you toldme.”
“Do you want me to put a bandage on this?” he said.
“No, if I can shift, it will heal quickly. I’ll wait until you’re asleep. I know you don’t like—”
“No, don’t bother. I may hunt criminal shifters, but… well, I wouldn’t huntyou.”
Her heart jumped, and she mentally scolded herself as she asked, “What makes me different from any other shifter?”
“You’re useful. I need inside information. If the killer really is a rogue, I’ll need to cooperate with your pack, at least temporarily.”
Something inside her deflated a little. “Oh.”
She glanced down at her hands and gritted her teeth. She was an idiot. What sort of answer had she expected?
“I’m going to shift. I’ll be right back.” She rushed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, a little harder than she intended.
Pushing her spine against the wood, she slid down to the ceramic tiling. What was wrong with her? Their one night was long over. Andwhywas she interested in him?
She was a wolf shifter—his sworn enemy. The only thing he would remember about their time together was the fact that he’d fucked a wolf. He’d saved her, had her in his control, and that was all that mattered. She was nothing but a piece of leverage that allowed him to say, “Take this, fur-faces. I banged one of your bitches.”
Destined mate, her ass.
Burying her face in her hands, she thought about making a run for it. If she bolted now and caught Jace off guard, she could make it to the stairs. Her body shook from the adrenaline buzzing through her veins. No. She couldn’t run. She needed his help to find the rogue.
She let out a long sigh. Why had she told him about the precariousness of her position? She’d never told anyone that, not even Alejandro. She’d likely messed with her chances on that score, too. She’d never wanted to marry into another pack, but her little rendezvous with Jace hadn’t solved anything. And as a result, here she was, sitting in the bathroom of an overly done-up penthouse pining for a wolf hunter who couldn’t care less.
Useful.
The word echoed in her ears. That was all she was to him. Useful. That was what she got for having sex on an animalistic whim, then letting her dumb-ass brain try to rationalize her actions with delusions of romance and destined mates. Uselesswas more accurate. He undoubtedly only wanted her in order to get to the Rochester packmaster.
She scoffed. Little did he know…
She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans. She stared at the screen. Alejandro’s name flashed next to a missed call message. She pressed a few buttons and the blank slate for a text message popped up. She started typing.
Alejandro, I’m okay. Will explain everything later. Sorry I missed your
She stopped typing in the middle of her sentence, staring at the words until she finally hit the delete button. The sound of phone’s screen cracking snapped her mind back in place, and she realized she’d thrown it at the bathroom wall.
“Damn it.”
