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I would find Brody’s killer.
I had to.
I’d never felt more alone or helpless in my life, and I’d endured a lot while my body was being used.
FIFTEEN
VINKETTIN
Ididn’t leave. I stayed to watch. My scent was all over his house and land, and his brothers wouldn’t notice if I watched from the tree next to his kitchen window. I felt a little silly with my legs swinging in the breeze hanging off a branch, but with my back to the trunk, I could have stayed here all day.
No one ever looks up. Not even wolves. It amused me endlessly. I loved heights. I felt at home higher than the rest of the world. There was an ease to being off the ground. I needed to think about what he’d told me about the prophecy and what I’d witnessed between him and his brother.
I’d stayed out of Dominic’s business for far too long, and it was time I knew what was going on in the pack. I would have never known he was suffering so many losses from an unknown source. The war, sure, but this felt different. The images they whispered about sounded nothing like the bold and brash dead ones.
It took everything in me not to grab that stupid-ass wolf of his and ask him why the fuck he hadn’t told me about the danger. I wanted to stand over my mate with a protective growl and threaten anyone who came near him, but I knew none of these things would get me far with Dominic. Much the opposite. They would push my mate further from me.
I had to handle this situation with care. Handle Dominic with care and give him no indication I didn’t trust him to handle it himself, but I would be doing my own investigation behind his back, and if he didn’t assume I would be, he didn’t know me very well. He would learn in time that when he accepted me into his life, he was accepting my protection as well. I wasn’t going to love him and lose him so soon.
I should have stayed by his house, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I followed, keeping my distance. In the trees, staying downwind of the wolves. The stench hit me, leaving me staggering before the body came into view. Whatever was doing this wasn’t nice about it. Disembowelment would have been more pleasant.
None of this sat right with me.
I left as Dominic collected the body in his arms, my heart heavy with the pain he carried to the family, the pain I knew he’d carry, believing the loss was his fault.
I spent the day seeking out answers, but there wasn’t even a whisper about what was happening with the wolves. They’d kept it too quiet, which worried me more. How was there not a word outside their people? It affected so many, and yet…silence.
I returned to Dominic’s house in the dark. I’d spent entirely too much time chasing his ghosts that by the time I’d turned to my work, it was already late. He’d left the porch light on and the front door unlocked. I let myself in without knocking, deciding not to stand on ceremony to begin with.
I wanted to exist with him as we should have many years ago, which meant I had to tell him I knew his secret and then share some of my own, and I didn’t like the idea.
I found Dominic sitting in the dark on the back deck with a glass of Jack Daniels, lost in thought. I took the seat next to him, and he held out the drink to me. I took it and swallowed what was left. By his breath, I knew he’d had enough.
He glanced over with a scoff but didn’t utter a word.
“Would you like me to pour you another, dear?”
“I’d like you not to call me ‘dear’ ever again.” He tipped his face to the moon and closed his eyes.
“Long day?” I asked, knowing the answer but unable to express as much to him, so I kept it simple.
“Quiet.”
“What can I do?”
“Pour me another drink?” he asked without opening his eyes.
This was a delicate and unusual turn of events for us, and I didn’t want to spoil the moment. I wanted to keep this space with him and the soft, vulnerable side of him, but neither of us knew how to be those people. We were both hardened by the lives we were born into, with no room for soft. But it didn’t make me chase the fleeting moment any less.
“Whiskey dick might be my least favorite way to fuck you.” I reached out for him, all jest in my voice but tenderness in my touch.
He pulled away, brows tugging together as he opened his eyes. Slowly, he resumed his posture, allowing my fingers to skim his shoulder. His brows stayed deep, but he relaxed under my touch, leaning into it after a few seconds. Neither of us understood where this was going, but I was okay with it.
I turned toward him, scooting my chair closer to his before pulling his feet into my lap. I kept my movements slow, scared I’d spook him. I took one of his feet in both hands and squeezed. The frown lessened. I pressed my thumbs into the arch of his foot. A moan slipped from his lips. I rubbed, and he eased. Maybe we could find a way to exist in the chaos. To be soft when life was rough.
I spent twenty minutes on one foot and then over to the other, and by the time I had finished, all the tension had bled out of his body. More than sex had ever relaxed him. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Sex between us was as much a battle as it was for mutual satisfaction. This was more intimate.
More intimate than I think I even knew we could be.
