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Zorah
They'd huddled under the dock for what seemed like hours. Eventually, probably as high as a cloud, Colt left. But they waited some more, not wanting to be lured into complacency and walk straight into a trap. Jake swam ashore first, to make sure Colt had truly gone, and then insisted on coming back and escorting Zorah to land. Swimming side by side, Jake throttled his speed to match hers. The unspoken consideration touched her, her emotions still disturbed from the poignancy of his whispered confessions.
He'd alluded to a tragic history more than once, yet even her wildest imaginings came nowhere near the truth of it. On some level, she couldn't conceive the depth of his suffering. Her own petty hassles and struggles paled in comparison. She didn't find any of the Morris Hill Alphas to her liking?Boo hoo. She didn't want to take Nelson as a mate?Poor her.At least she wasn't conscripted into hard labor and torn apart from her lover and child.
Poor Jake. Poor, poor Ava. Her heart broke and then broke again every time her brain filled in some imaginary detail of their ill-fated romance. The desolate unknowing of it messed with her head. Was Ava living somewhere else? Had the child survived? Her soul hungered for any crumb of consolation, but, as he'd pointed out, there was no comfort to be found in resolution.
Zorah rubbed at her arms to chase away the morning chill. Dawn would arrive in short order, and she'd been awake the entire night. Behind her, Jake's feet gently padded on the dirt path. The normalcy of silently walking back to the settlement, after the upheavals of the night, soothed her. She shivered again and was caught off guard by a drape of cozy fabric that fluttered over her shoulders. The worn flannel, redolent with his scent and body heat, curled around her and chased away the gooseflesh. Zorah gathered it closed in the front, nearly overcome with the small, caring gesture.
He hadn't said much since the water, which she chalked up to the emotional toll. But other than the flannel, he hadn't reached for her hand or even brushed against her. Maybe the memories preoccupied him too much. Or maybe he regretted their spontaneous make-out on the dock.
Problem was, she didn't.
She'dlovedit. Every heart-soaring touch of his hand, every toe-curling scrape of his stubble, every breath-taking taste of his lips, she wanted the moment to last until the end of time. Soaking wet with a half-rotted-out dock jamming splinters into her butt, she couldn't care less. She had an Alpha — one who smelled right, tasted right, felt perfect. The world could've combusted, and she wouldn't have cared.
"You should be good from here." His rumbly voice broke through her thoughts.
Zorah stopped and faced him. The lines in his face read differently in this light. Deep crow's feet bracketed his eyes, a tense pinch at their corners that never totally relaxed. Scars marred his skin, rounded and crooked in shades of white, pink, and tan, hiding countless abrasions and sores. Deep furrows sliced into his cheeks; a corporeal canyon eroded by eons of tears. What she'd attributed to ruggedness and harsh, masculine beauty, she now saw for what it was: physical testaments to sorrow and strife. Dull fury coiled in her belly, a stale and impotent need to reap vengeance on whoever caused this torment, whoever burdened him with this grief.
Yet she could do nothing. Nothing but appreciate all he'd sacrificed to stay alive and bring him to this place, so he could save a little boy's life, teach her to swim, and make her dizzy with a single kiss.
Emotions welling, she moved in close, the tips of her toes bumping into his. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand and sandwiched it between her own. "Thank you for trusting me with your story. Thank you for surviving, for not giving up."
His face folded, the pained lines etching deeper. "Don't thank me."
She jostled his hand in aggravation. "Why not?" His eyes searched hers, an unreadable question in his gaze. His silence only worsened her impatience. "What? What is it?"
The muscles in his throat rippled, and his mouth opened and closed and opened again. "You're a good swimmer now," he said hoarsely. He lifted a hand to her cheek, stroking across her cheekbone with a calloused thumb, its gritty whisper she felt as acute as a knife blade. "So this is our last lesson."
Zorah's stomach bottomed out, her entire body aligning in unified protest. "What? No!"
"Shhh." His palm smoothed back from her cheek, threading into the messy tendrils of her hair. "You've worked hard, and I'm so proud of you. But it's too dangerous. We almost got caught tonight. That would've been bad for me but disastrous for you."
"I don't care about getting caught," she snapped. "My parents are coming in two weeks anyway." His eyebrows rose in silent admonishment, as if she'd just made his point for him. "Youkissedmetonight. Remember that? You'll kiss me and then send me off on my way like nothing happened?"
The wall of his torso expanded in a beleaguered sigh. "That was my fault. I thought you had drowned, and I got carried away..." The end of the sentence withered, like he couldn't bring himself to sell the lie.
"No." Zorah flung his hand away. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to pretend like it was an accident or that you didn't want it becauseyou did." She poked a finger in his chest, and not nicely, either. "Everything you've been holding back, I felt it. I feltall of it, so you don't get to stand here and tell me it wasnothing."
Jake's lips curled into a snarl. He leaned closer, large and looming as he glared down from his greater height. "And so what if I did want it? So what if I've thought of little else since the moment I first saw you? What does itmatter, Zorah?"
Aggravation ripped through her, accompanied by a broad stripe of unwelcome arousal at his show of dominance. Her palms itched to slap him across the face so her lips could kiss it better. "Itmatters."
"Why?" His voice turned to ice. "You're going to go home, you're going to find a mate, and you're going to pop out little Alpha or Omega babies, and that'll be the end of it. I told you before, I have nothing to give you. That hasn't changed, and itwon't."
On some level, he spoke the truth. Terrible, hated, infuriating truth, but truth, nonetheless. In the quiet, eerie darkness, hidden under the half-sunken dock, anything seemed possible. She could kiss a mysterious Alpha and drink up his intoxicating scent and love every second of it. Her mind could paint a thousand fantasies to wash away her worries. But in the stark, unforgiving dawning day, her parents were coming to fetch her home and give her to Nelson, and the walls of her future closed in around her, no matter how many breathless kisses she stole in the moonlight.
Was he her fated mate? She had no idea. Beyond her body's response to him, he didn't have much to recommend him, yet she couldn't —wouldn't— let this go.
Lips peeled back from her teeth, Zorah demanded, "Then why did you kiss me?"
Jake's nostrils gave an angry, frustrated flare, and his eyes darted away. "I already told you; I got carried away."
"Fine, you got carried away. But Ilikedit, you stubborn ass." Her chest heaved as her conviction crashed through her. "I liked it more than any other kiss I've ever had, and that matters tome."
Sighing, Jake cupped her cheeks in his large hands. His thumbs mapped the lines of her jaw, and he laid his forehead against her own. "It does matter," he said, rough and gravelly. "Just not enough. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not who you need me to be. If I gave you another impression, forgive me."
A cool breeze slipped into the scant space between them, contrasting with all the warm places where Jake's skin met hers. Like nature itself was agreeing with this one-sided withdrawal. Zorah's heart gave a single, sullen thump before it dropped to the ground, leaden and dead.
