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 just for a moment, for one stolen breath, I let myself feel it. His hand on my jaw, thumb tracing my cheekbone like I’m something worth memorizing. Something he doesn’t want to forget.
Each caress tightens my body, surging an ache between my legs.
I’ve been so fucking lonely. So starved for human contact. And this man, this beautiful, unhinged disaster of a man, makes the hunger roar.
“You can’t leave until I finish your tattoo.” His thumb drags down, resting against my bottom lip. A sin. A dare. A temptation.
“I release you from the bargain.” I exhale shakily. “You’re not finishing it.”
He watches me, eyes dark, trying to read what he isn’t ready to understand.
I watch him right back.
Then slowly, deliberately, I draw his thumb into my mouth.
His breath catches.
My tongue presses along the pad of his finger as I suck, hard and obscene, holding his gaze the entire time.
His pupils blow wide. His free hand clutches my waist and joins our hips. A tremor shivers through his body. A flush climbs his throat, and he inhales like he’s drowning.
“Jag…” He jerks his thumb free and steps back hard enough to hit the table. “I’m not—”
“I know.”
“I won’t do that to her.” He drags a hand through his hair, shaking, fighting himself.
Because he’s a good man, and good men break before they betray the ones they love.
“I need to get back to her.” He straightens, wiping his thumb on his jeans. “I’m leaving the security team here. They’ll keep you in this room until I return.”
“You’re locking me up?”
“It’s not a choice. It’s what’s happening.” He gestures to the cot as if offering accommodations instead of confinement. “They’ll bring you food. Water. Whatever you need.”
“You can’t keep me—”
“I need sleep. You need sleep. Neither of us is making decisions until that happens.”
Fucking hell. This is completely, catastrophically inconvenient.
“Don’t do this.” I step toward him. “Let me go, pup.”
“I’m not locking you up because I want to. Kody was going to throw your ass in Sitka jail overnight and charge you with trespassing. I convinced him this was better.”
Fuck.
I stare at him, furious and unwilling to admit the spark of gratitude burning under my ribs.
Without looking away, he reaches for the book on the table.
“My story.” He presses it into my hands.
I look down at it, confused, then back up at him.
“The journal explains things like this.” He pulls down the neckline of his shirt, exposing the scars on his shoulder and chest.
“Why?” My fingers tighten around the book. “You can’t possibly trust me with this.”
He shrugs, casual on the surface, but there’s tension beneath it, a risk he’s taking whether he wants to or not.
“Trust isn’t a transaction I want to hold hostage. I’m offering it to you.” He gestures at the journal. “I’ll see what you do with it. See if you’ll build it with me or burn it.”
That’s a dangerous philosophy. A naïve one. Coming from him, though? It feels like he handed me a bomb.
“I won’t regret giving you my ugly secrets.” He takes a breath. “I will regret letting you leave without hearing yours.”
My throat closes.
“I’m offering you a choice.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Read my story or don’t. When I come back this afternoon, if you tell me your story, who’s hunting you, and why they want you, I’ll use every Strakh resource available to help you.”
Help me.
He says it so simply. So confidently. Because he doesn’t understand the impossibility of it.
Before I can respond, he turns and opens the door.
“Wolf—”
He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give me a single second more.
The door shuts, and the silence that follows crushes my ribs, leaving me hollow and breathless. Because I know, with a clarity that flattens me, that was the last conversation Wolf and I will ever have.
The yacht hasn’t fully docked before I jump, my rain boots slamming down with more urgency than grace.
I’ve been gone too long. Dove didn’t want me to escort Jag to Sitka in the first place, and now she’s been sitting here for two hours with nothing but her imagination to keep her company.
Kody lands beside me with four guards at his back.
The other four guards stayed at the tattoo parlor, stationed outside Jag’s room with orders not to let him sneeze without checking on him.
Jag definitely wants to kill me for this. I get it. The idea of anyone containing him makes my skin hum with something I don’t want to look at too closely.
Inside the main house, the smell of coffee hangs thick. I follow it into the kitchen and find Dove sitting beside Frankie at the island.
Dove’s honey-soft eyes instantly connect with mine, and my chest loosens.
“You’re home.” Frankie hurries toward Kody.
Dove blinks slowly, her shoulders caving inward in that quiet way she does when she’s out of gasoline. It’s nearly morning, and neither of us slept.