Chapter 57
RODERICK
When I stare at the snarling nightmare of a man Juliet escaped from, I’m overwhelmed with pride at how strong and resourceful she is.
And I realize how insensitive I’ve been.
Juliet’s fearful reactions were never about me. I might have triggered them, but the response had been drilled into her long ago. Her body trying to survive the torments of a true monster. She has every reason to distrust werewolves, but still, she’s standing in front of me, offering her full self.
My responsibility is clear. My love won’t automatically eradicate the damage in her past. If we mate, that doesn’t mean there won’t be times that she flinches from me or fights off panic.
So, it is my duty to support her, no matter what. If she needs me to hold her, I will. If she needs me to give her space, I will. I want to tell her all these things, but I’m betting she’d prefer not to let the Bear Valley wolves know how much their mistreatment still affects her.
Instead, I cup her face in my palms, gazing into her eyes.
“What you said when you left my office, I didn’t believe you. But I understand now.”
Her eyes shimmer, a coat of unshed tears forming.
“Whatever you need, I’ll be that for you. I love you, Juliet Adair.”
“That’s not her name!” Cory snarls. “She is Abby Green, and she is mine!”
LIAR.
“No.” I don’t even bother to look at the pathetic excuse for a wolf.
“She is Juliet Adair. And her life is her own.” My fingers curl around my woman’s wrist, drawing her hand back up, and I press the candy-coated finger to my lips, licking them clean.
“But when—if,” I correct myself, “she lets me become her mate, we will hold the ceremony with our family around us. Not our enemies.” I give her a smile.
“It will be a joyful day. Not a painful one.”
“Roderick.” She says my name in a whisper that carries too many emotions to sort through.
“They don’t get to make this decision for us. For you.” For too long, Juliet has focused only on survival. “I will make sure you are safe. Mate or not. So, if you choose me, it’s because you want us for us.”
Juliet rolls her eyes, even as she wears a rueful grin. “Fine, you stubborn wolf. I’ll mate you later. When I’m not covered in blood.” Her fingers tap my chin. “When. Not if.”
There’s a howl, broken by ragged coughing, dragging me away from the bliss of finally having connected to my other half.
Cory spews up more gore on the road, and I wonder how much blood he has left in him.
Not much. Finish him.
He is not the only threat to Juliet, I remind my wolf.
“What did you poison him with? This is an act of war!” the young female wolf screeches, her eyes full of hatred as they twitch between Juliet and me. She’s a danger all her own.
“That’s not poison, you yappy little Chihuahua,” a regal voice says, tone clear, even over the sound of Cory’s retching.
I glance toward the Pine Falls wolves in time to see Hester dismount from her perch on the back of Moose’s bike.
Standing out from the gathering in four-inch red-soled heels and a perfectly tailored suit, she strolls across the asphalt.
But the oddest thing about her appearance is the black T-shirt clutched in her red acrylics.
The fabric is crisscrossed with white string tied in intricate knots, almost like lace.
Power, like clinging spiderwebs, drips over our gathering, and more than one wolf shudders at the sensation.
“That,” Hester purrs as she steps up to the edge of blood pooling around Cory, “is magic.”
The female wolf’s lips curl in a snarl, but it’s Mick who spits out the single word like a curse.
“Witch.”