10. Jax
TEN
jax
If she were alive , Jax . The truth of Asher’s words stung and I stepped on the gas, speeding down the winding road as fast as the sports car could handle it.
I grew tired of denying myself. Catalina needed to go. Death by my hand or death by Ren’s hand. Those were the two options. And the only way she would no longer haunt me. If she was alive out there . . . I would hunt her down. To fuck her, to feed on her—to keep her.
I’d be like pathetic Asher, following the whims of a human.
I shook my head. Fuck that.
As good as her pussy was and as sweet as she tasted, I would deny myself. She was nothing. And as a human nothing, she should not be touching Imogen’s things. The thought came with less hostility than I liked, and I found that happening much too often.
The clothes did not suit her. I didn’t want them touching her . . . but, it was because I didn’t want the reminder of what I’d lost.
Catalina and Imogen were absolute opposites.
Imogen would rip the human apart if she were around. The human would run in fear, cowering.
The thought unsettled me.
I ran my palm over my jaw. Meaningless thoughts to have. They would never meet, fortunately for the human.
She was too weak, as displayed by the state of her body when she arrived. Broken down, wrapped in casts, and bruised. The image returned me to the dirty streets of the Kingdom of Sweden in the late 1700s where I’d survived as a thief. Imogen found me beaten, on the brink of death when she changed me. I squeezed the steering wheel a brief moment before releasing it.
She’d changed Asher for me, as well.
I owed her everything.
Then why did she affect me? Seeing the broken human caused a violently visceral reaction in me. I could not contain the things happening in my chest. I’d gone deep into the woods, morphed, and slaughtered every animal I came into contact with, relishing in their squeals of pain.
I scratched the back of my neck so hard I gouged into my skin.
I craved a traitor.