Chapter 8 #2
Maddie hovered behind her, eyes wide, but didn’t say a word.
I tried to keep my voice gentle, but it came out as a growl. “You call this normal? Getting drunk until you can’t stand, letting some piece of shit put his hands on you?”
Aspen shrank into herself, and the anger in me twisted, quick as a snake, into something else. Guilt, maybe. Fear. Love.
She blinked, and for a second I saw the old Aspen—the one who was free with her sarcasm. “I didn’t let him butthead,” she whispered. “He just…did it.”
I glanced at Maddie, and she nodded. “She told him to back off. He didn’t listen. I made sure he got the message. Gator took care of the rest.”
I nodded, my chest still tight. “You don’t understand. You could’ve been hurt.”
Aspen shook her head, then stopped, hand to her forehead. “No. You don’t understand. I wanted to be brave. I wanted to be like everyone else for once. But I’m not.”
The words hit me sideways, and I realized I’d scared her more than the asshole from Morgantown had. I reached out, my hand shaking, and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“You don’t have to be like anyone else,” I said. “You just have to be you.”
She looked at me, and the mask fell away. All the pain, all the hope, every ounce of pride—gone. Just a girl who’d been hurt too many times, and wanted someone to say she was enough.
“Can you take me home?” she asked, so soft I almost didn’t hear it.
I nodded. “Yeah. I can.”
Maddie helped her up, and Aspen wobbled, then sagged into my side. I wrapped an arm around her, careful but tight enough that she knew she was safe. I looked at Maddie, who smiled—a real smile, relieved.
“Thank you,” I told her. “You did good.”
She shrugged and handed me Aspen’s purse. “That’s what friends are for.”
I led Aspen toward the door. The bar watched us go, silent. Wrecker and Arsenal formed a screen as we passed, and the rest of the pack fell in behind.
At the truck, I unlocked the door and guided her inside, buckling her seatbelt before I got behind the wheel. The guys waited, engines idling, ready to follow if I needed them. But this wasn’t a mission for the pack. This was mine.
The drive to her place was quiet. She leaned her head against the window, watching the streetlights go by. She didn’t speak until we were almost home.
“I made a fool of myself,” she said, not looking at me.
“No, you didn’t,” I told her. “You tried something new. It just didn’t work out. That’s all.”
She turned, face blurry with tears and booze. “I ruined everything. You probably hate me now.”
I pulled the truck over, right there on the shoulder, and turned to face her. “I could never hate you, Aspen. Not in a million years.”
She stared at me, searching for the lie, but there wasn’t one to find.
She nodded, then closed her eyes, and I drove the rest of the way with my hand resting on her knee, her scent filling the cab, my wolf finally at peace.
When we pulled up in front of the bakery, I parked and turned off the engine. Aspen didn’t move. She just sat there, eyes closed, breathing slow and deep.
I got out, walked around, and opened her door. She slid out, more graceful than I expected, and stood on her own two feet.
But she didn’t make it two steps before she turned and threw her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. She shook, maybe from the cold, maybe from everything she’d held in all night.
I held her tight, the only thing in the world that made sense.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re safe now.”
She nodded against my shirt, and I felt her start to relax.
“I’m sorry,” she said, muffled.
“Don’t be. Not ever.”
I picked her up bridal style, and carried her to the door, her keys jangling in my hand. She laughed, weak but alive.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” she said.
I smiled. “I like holding you.”
She looked up at me, and for the first time all night, she smiled back.
I set her down inside the apartment and closed the door behind us. She slumped onto the couch, and I knelt down to take off her boots.
“I think I drank too much,” she said, voice small.
“Probably.”
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
“I’ll stay as long as you want.”
There are a hundred ways to spend a night with the woman you want.
This wasn’t any of them. Aspen barely made it to the bathroom before she was on her knees, and I dropped beside her, holding her hair back as she puked up a night’s worth of courage and heartbreak into the toilet.
I stroked her spine, slow and steady, the way I’d comforted a hundred wounded wolves before her.
She heaved and shook, tiny, shivering, and at one point started crying and apologizing in the same breath.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, knuckles white on the rim. “I didn’t mean to—oh God—” She launched again, and I kept her hair in a ponytail with one hand, rubbing circles into her back with the other.
“Shhh, you’re okay, Sunshine. Happens to the best of us.” I grabbed a washcloth, ran it under cool water, and held it to her forehead while she spat, wiped her mouth, and started another round of tears.
“I’m a mess,” she whimpered, slumping against the tub. “You probably think I’m disgusting.”
“Not even close.” I wiped her face, gentle as I could, and grabbed a hair tie from her counter. “You look adorable, even like this.”
She closed her eyes and let me clean her up. I rinsed her mouth with water, found a fresh toothbrush under the sink, and waited as she brushed with the grim focus of a soldier field-dressing a wound.
When she finished, Aspen let herself collapse against my chest, half-buried in my arms, and the smell of her sweat and vanilla shampoo was so sharp and right I nearly lost my own composure.
“Can you get me to the bed?” she whispered. “I don’t think I can walk.”
I picked her up again and carried her across the hall and into her bedroom.
The quilt on the mattress was a patchwork of blue and yellow, brighter than any I’d ever seen.
I set her down and turned away, giving her a sliver of dignity.
She fumbled with her top, but her hands were too uncoordinated to do much more than tangle in the fabric.
I hesitated, then cleared my throat. “Want me to help?”
She nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Please.”
I unhooked her belt and then lifted her arms out of her sweater with the care of a man handling a live grenade.
I tried to be clinical, but her skin was soft and warm under my fingers, and the line of her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, made my mouth go dry.
I pulled it the rest of the way over her head.
She wore a plain black bra beneath, full coverage but somehow more intimate than anything lacy.
I looked away as I slid the sweater off, but I saw her smiling, shy and fierce, in the lamplight.
I removed her boots and then had her stand as I knelt before her and unzipped her skirt.
It fell away and pooled at her feet, and I tapped each leg for her to step out so I could set it aside.
My hands shook as I reached up for the waistband of her tights.
I wanted so much to take her panties down with them and bury my face in her sweet-smelling pussy then eat her until the sun came up.
The scent of her arousal was making everything I did almost impossible.
“Sit down, Sunshine.” She followed my order immediately her eyes not leaving mine.
Good fucking witchling. I pulled a long t-shirt from the dresser.
“Arms up.” I slipped it over her head. The whole time, I kept my hands gentle, my movements deliberate, but I knew my wolf’s eyes were glowing in the dark.
“Good girl. Now lie back on your pillow.”
I tucked her under the quilt, then sat on the edge of the bed, heart thudding in my throat.
She stared at me, wide-eyed, a single tear tracking down her cheek. “I really, really wanted to kiss you tonight,” she whispered. “But I didn’t want to screw it up by being…this.”
I brushed the tear from her cheek with my thumb. “You can’t screw this up. Not even if you tried.”
She reached up, fingers tracing the edge of my jaw. “I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t even know what to do with it.”
“Let it happen,” I said, my voice rough.
She smiled, then yawned, eyes drifting shut. “I’ve been kinda scared all day even before the bar.” She was mumbling.
I was brushing her hair back from her face. “Why have you been afraid, Aspen?” My instincts were raised..
“The man in the bakery.”
“Sunshine, I need you to stay awake just a few more minutes, okay? What man in the bakery scared you today?”
“Green jacket man. He looked wrong. And he just stared at me, and didn’t eat his scone. Oscar says he’s spelled or possessed.” She said through a yawn.
“What did he do with his scone, baby? And who’s Oscar? I need you to tell me, then you can go to sleep.”
There was a long pause. I was afraid she’d already dozed off. “He left it with the drawing on the bag. And Oscar is my prairie dog friend.”
Shit. What? One thing at a time. I sat up. “What drawing, sweetie? Do you still have it?”
“Umm, it’s in the trash.”
I stood up. I needed to find that bag first.
“Go on to sleep, Sunshine.”
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Always.”
She fell asleep in less than a minute, breath slow and sweet, lips parted in a tiny smile.
I went back to the living room and checked the window.
It was locked tight, but the sash was loose.
Someone with enough skill could have worked it open from the outside, if they had the ability to access it at that height.
I prowled the bakery, double-checking every bolt and door, then returned to the kitchen.
The trash cans were empty. She’d taken the bags to the outside dumpster.
Damn it. I went out the back door to the alley.
I felt something out here; one of those ominous feelings.
Something was stalking my mate. I went to the dumpster and opened the lid.
Empty. I hoped like hell she’d remember what the symbol looked like.
I sent a message to Wrecker and told him what was going on. He texted back. “Let me know what you find out. Sounds like someone’s got eyes on your girl. We need to find out who and why.”
My pulse spiked, but I kept it quiet. I crept back to the bedroom, checked Aspen, and found her sleeping on her side, arms curled around the pillow. I brushed her hair from her face, memorizing every line.
I texted Wrecker again: “Send guys to keep watch tonight. Watch for freaky shit. Guy in a green jacket specifically.”
His reply was a thumbs up and a simple phrase: “We’ve got your back, brother.”
I set my phone down and eased myself onto the floor beside Aspen’s bed. The room was warm, and her scent filled every inch. I let myself drift, half awake, half guarding the door, ears tuned for the slightest sound.
If I were lucky, nothing would happen tonight.
But if anyone came for her, they’d have to go through me.
My wolf was ready for it. So was I.
No one—witch, wolf, or otherwise—would ever touch her again.
I watched her as the hours ticked by, every breath a promise.
She’d be safe.
She’d be mine.
From now until forever.