Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
But she doesn’t go for a weapon. She stands at the edge of my periphery and shakes her head at Wolf like she can’t process what he’s asking.
He takes in her expression, the tears, and releases my shrinking dick.
“You made her cry.” An ominous chill shivers through his voice. “What kind of monster are you?”
“The worst kind.”
It’s the truth. There’s no excuse left to hide behind, and the sight of her tears—tears I put there again—cuts deeper than the blade digging into my throat.
“Look at me,” she says quietly.
I don’t want to. I can’t. But the heartbreak in her tone drags my eyes up anyway.
“I loved you.” She balls her fists at her sides. “You were my entire world. My safe place. My family. My heart—” She inhales sharply. “And you threw me away.”
Wolf’s blade presses deeper.
Her glare is a blade all its own. “You threw me away when I was fifteen. So I did the only thing I could do to protect myself. I ran. But you weren’t finished with your torture. You chased me. Hunted me. Showed up in every town I tried to hide in. Every time I tried to start a normal life, you ruined it. You fucked my friends. My boyfriends. Anyone who got close to me.”
My lungs burn.
“I let myself believe it was because you cared.” Her voice cracks. “That maybe you were keeping me safe. That maybe you still loved me.”
I can’t breathe.
“I wanted you once.” Her eyes shine with grief. “I wanted you so damn much. But you didn’t want me back. You made that very clear. So why, Jag? Why didn’t you just leave me the hell alone?”
“I couldn’t.” I swallow against the steel, because she’s right about one thing. She loved me, and I pissed all over it. On purpose.
She wipes her face and looks away. Angry. Ashamed she cried. Ashamed she kissed me. Ashamed she let all those years hit her at once.
Wolf shifts around me, and for a split second, the absurdity of him is all I see.
What in tropical-hell is he wearing?
Floral rain boots, turquoise shorts with flamingos in sunglasses, and a vintage black tee with a snarling white wolf, its fangs dripping cartoon-red. The shirt hangs lopsided on him, exposing a scarred shoulder that hints at more scars underneath.
Without moving my head, I focus on his face, and… Goddamn. His eyes gleam with that special kind of madness, the razor edge between queer and violent that only trauma-bred boys can master.
“That’s it?” He flutters his thick eyelashes. “You’re not going to defend yourself?”
There’s nothing to defend.
I removed every boyfriend Dove brought home. Every girlfriend she thought was a friend. They were bottom-shelf humans. Dead ends with faces. The boys cheated on her. The girls were toxic, most of them addicts, and they treated her like shit. So I fucked them to prove their disloyalty and killed the ones who dared to hurt her.
None of them was worth her time or attention. But she doesn’t know that. She only knows the ruin I left behind.
For the longest time, I thought breaking her connections was protecting her. I thought if I kept the world from taking advantage of her, she could be happy.
Twisted logic from a twisted life.
But now?
Now I know the only person who’s ever been worthy of her is the same one holding a knife to my throat.
Wolf will fight for her, kill for her, and protect her from everything and everyone.
Including me.
Her chest rises and falls fast, her hands curling uselessly at her sides. Not afraid. Not timid. This is Dove broken open and trying to rebuild her armor.
“You won’t touch her again.” Wolf lifts my chin with the blade, bringing my eyes back to him. “Not without her permission. Not in confusion. Not in nostalgia. Not because you’re lonely and she makes your dick hard.”
“I’m leaving. For good.” My chest constricts. “I came here to say goodbye.”
“That right?” Wolf narrows his arctic eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Doesn’t matter. She has you, and you’re the only one good enough for her.”
“Hm. Yeah. We’re going to table all of that for a minute.” He makes a face. “Dove darling… Safety check. Would your stepbrother physically harm you?”
“Never.” She steps closer. “But he might hurt you.”
“I don’t think so.” He lowers the knife and paces in the space between her and me. “Here’s the thing, Murder Muffin. I feel very possessive of my woman.”
He twirls the knife like a lethal baton. Not a flashy trick. Not for show. Just the effortless, predatory movement of a man thinking aloud with steel and fingers.
I’ve never seen anyone handle a blade like that.
“My feelings for Dove are bigger than me. We’re talking princess level. In the realm of the Magic Kingdom. The real deal.” He spins the knife along his knuckles, catches the hilt backward, flips it forward, and meets my eyes. “My feelings for you are…” He gives Dove a look. “Confused?” His gaze snaps back to me, the blade twirling again. “Maybe that’s why you’re still breathing. But the night isn’t over. Help me understand it.”