CHAPTER THIRTEEN || HARRIS
Iheld my wolf in an embrace and Reed finally relaxed against me, in stages.
Through our shared connection, I could feel the weight he carried.
It wasn’t only Sally. It was the Algea. The pack.
Carrying everything on his back. And I could feel his fear, too.
Not just “it’s not enough.” It was his fear that he wasn’t enough.
Hot, clean anger bubbled up in me. It wasn’t directed at Reed, but at the inner darkness clawing inside him. He wasn’t scared, not really. That might’ve been easier to bring him back from.
Instead, he was feeling overwhelmed—and drowning in guilt, too. And I knew those feelings way too well.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling away at last. His voice was thicker than it ought to have been and he shook his head, as if disgusted with himself. “But I shouldn’t have—” He broke off, letting out a long breath. He sounded steadier when he continued, “I should be stronger than this.”
“I don’t need you to be strong all the time. That’s a lot to put on anyone.”
His jaw tightened and his gaze slid to the floor. “I can feel your anger, Harris.”
“Look at me, Reed,” I said. And when he did, his eyes searching mine, I added, “It’s not directed at you. I promise.”
He didn’t seem convinced. Which was fair—if I wanted him to be open and vulnerable with me, if I wanted him to trust me, I needed to give him some of that, too.
“I feel helpless,” I admitted. And I found it was easier to say than I would’ve expected.
Reed’s eyes widened slightly with surprise and I added, “Because I can feel what you’re going through.
And I’ve been to that place—feeling like everything around you is crushing and way too heavy.
And the fear you’re not good enough. I’ve been there. But you are good enough.”
“Even though I haven’t stopped this?”
“No,” I said firmly. “You haven’t stopped it yet. You’re going to be the reason Sally lives through this. You and your pack.”
He went still. “And if I’m not?”
“Then we’d deal with it together. I’ll still be here. We’ll get through it.”
His gaze searched mine and I could see the helpless fury and the grief all knotted together.
“But you’re not done,” I told him firmly, cupping the side of his face. “We’re not done. I’m with you in this, every single step of the way. You aren’t alone. I won’t let you be.”
Something cracked in his expression. It was small and raw, a tiny seam giving way to let me glimpse the pain beneath it.
But then there was a dawning wonder in his eyes, too, as they searched mine. “You’re way too good for me,” Reed breathed, smiling for the first time since he’d stepped through the cabin door. “How do you do that?”
Warmth spread through me at his words, driving away the last of my anger. “I’m Detective James Harris,” I told him with mock seriousness, smiling back. “I befriend vampires and dance with werewolves. Plus, I’m a pretty damn good shot. You’re basically sitting next to a superhero.”
Reed grinned. “You are a pretty good dancer. Maybe that’s one of your superpowers.” And then, through the bond, I could feel his sudden and desperate need for closeness. For my touch. “Listen, Harris, I need—”
“I know.”
His gaze flicked up to mine. The connection between us thrummed—subtle and wordless, a thread binding us firmly to each other.
“Do you?” he asked, his eyes dark. “I don’t want to push you. It doesn’t need to be like that yet. Or ever, if you don’t want that.”
I decided, then and there, that I was all in. Reed was my person. Hell, I’d probably decided that a long time ago. The night we’d first met, most likely.
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
Reed’s eyes lingered on mine a moment longer. Then he kissed me, almost tentatively, as though not quite sure I’d allow it.
And then I kissed him back, letting the heat of his lips against mine ignite me, my body responding to him, hardening, my pulse quickening. Showing him, with my actions, with my touch, that I wanted this, too.
We grappled for each other, our hands sliding across each other’s bodies, our lips pressed together. It wasn’t gentle and it couldn’t be, not with the way either of us felt. It was filled with his need, and with my own.
I knew what was coming next—what I wanted to give him. I was ready.
With someone else, I wouldn’t have been.
But this was Reed. And it wasn’t about sex or lust. It was about claiming the connection between us on purpose.
About anchoring him. About reminding him he still had breath in his lungs, he still had something warm and real and good to hold onto, even in the midst of the darkness.
It was about showing him he wasn’t alone.
I pulled back to press my forehead to his, both of us breathing hard. “I want to make love to you.”
His eyes flashed—gold, then darker again—and his voice caught. “You’re—You’re ready for that?”
Heat seared through me. I could feel his desire, his desperate longing for the closeness my touch would bring, and most of all, his bone-deep need for me to take control.
And still, even feeling that way, he was willing to put my needs before his own.
“Yes,” I said simply. Nothing had ever been so crystal clear to me.
I stood up and took him by the hand. Wordlessly, I guided us toward the bed. When I turned back to him, Reed’s eyes were pure gold.
I pulled his shirt over his head, then my own.
Though hunger blazed in his eyes, he let me take control, his pants coming down and then mine, until we were both standing next to the bed, naked and filled with need.
My cock went fully hard, my body responding to him as if my center of gravity had shifted and he had become my true north. There was no fear or trepidation. This was Reed and it was me. And there was nothing to be afraid of anymore.
I sat him down on the edge of the bed and dropped to my knees, shouldering his legs apart. His cock was hard and already leaking pre-cum. I took his length in my hand and lowered my head. I had never done this before, but I wanted to. I wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given me.
“Harris, you don’t need to—”
“Yeah, I do,” I growled, a flash of possessiveness tearing through me. I looked back up to find his eyes pure gold and fixed intently on what I was about to do. “I want to give you pleasure, unless you tell me no. Are you going to tell me no?”
Wordlessly, Reed shook his head, his lips parted with desire.
“Then relax and let me drive.”
The tension drained out of him at my words. He nodded, a flash of gratitude in his eyes.
I lowered my lips to the head of his cock and licked the tip, tasting the saltiness of him. A thrill of nervous anticipation shot up my spine, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Like being at the top of a roller coaster, right before the plunge.
I put my lips over his cock and took him down as far as I could go, the way he’d done to me.
He let out a strangled groan, his hands clutching at the bedspread.
I paused, taking in the warmth and thickness of him in my mouth. Then, trying to mimic what he had done to me, I bobbed my head up and down experimentally, keeping my lips tight around him, letting my tongue lave his shaft.
“Holy fuck,” he gasped.
I took that as a sign I was doing something right.
I repeated the motion a few more times, drawing more profanity from his lips.
“I don’t want to come yet,” he groaned. “But I’m already getting close.”
I pulled off him, satisfied. Apparently, I was a natural.
Reed reached over to the bedside table and brought out a bottle of lube and a condom. I watched as he popped the lid and coated his fingers with a generous amount.
Then I understood. He was going to open himself for me.
That made me get even harder.
He lay back onto the bed, his legs propped open, feet flat on the mattress. He slid one finger inside himself, then two. His breath left his lips in a long exhale and his eyes rolled back with pleasure.
When he slid a third finger in, his breath caught for a moment before he let it out again.
I watched, fascinated, as his body accommodated everything he gave it.
“I’m ready,” he said, pouring more lube into his hand before setting the bottle back on the nightstand. He propped himself up on one elbow and beckoned to me.
When I joined him on the bed, he reached for my cock and stroked it, smearing the lube along my length. He glanced at the condom. “If you want to use protection, we can. Werewolves can’t really get or spread any STDs, but—”
“No.”
He swallowed, his gaze going darker with need. “Good. I want you inside me. All of you.”
“Fuck,” I said, climbing between his thighs. Positioning his legs over my shoulders so he could roll his hips back for me felt instinctive.
Reed nodded approvingly, his eyes pure gold and his lips parted with desire. “Go slow at first.”
I nodded back, then lined myself up with him one-handed. I slid in, my gaze dropping to the sight of Reed taking me in—before flicking back up to him, looking for any sign of pain.
He bit his lower lip, but let out a satisfied groan as I pushed deeper. His eyes, still pure gold, were locked on mine. That might’ve freaked me out once—it didn’t now. It was a part of him. And every bit of him was natural and perfect.
I slid further in, my own breath catching at the heat and slick tightness of him.
When I paused to glance at him, checking in, Reed nodded. “Keep going.” His voice was husky and low.
I buried myself fully, letting out my own groan of satisfaction at the heat of him around me.
The desire to rut into him was almost overpowering, but I held back. “You doing okay?”
He nodded, a little wild, his eyes blazing. “Fuck me, Harris.”
I moved in and out of him, slow at first, making his toes curl. Then I picked up the pace, driving deep and pulling almost all the way back out before doing it again, taking him apart with every movement. The feeling of being inside him, all the way to the hilt, was incredible.