Chapter 3
They drove in almost total silence except for Julien’s two halfhearted attempts at polite conversation with Darcy, questions which she answered with monotone, monosyllabic answers. She had zero interest in casual conversation with Jack’s brother.
She should probably feel more frightened of Lela, but after Willow’s revelations about Jack’s behavior in Boston, she knew he would protect her. Of course he’d have to do it without touching her, which made her remember his response. You’d have to beg me first.
She glanced at Jack’s hard profile, feeling cold inside.
Since he’d reentered her life two weeks ago, he’d been so anxious to be with her, spend time with her, touch her…
so loving and longing and tender. It felt strange for him to be pushing her away.
And she grudgingly admitted that it didn’t feel good.
In fact, she’d never felt so alone. Not even when he was gone.
A chill went through Darcy, and she hugged herself more tightly.
“You’re cold,” murmured Jack.
She pointedly ignored him. The air was heavy between them, and she sensed he expected her to say, “I didn’t think that,” but she was determined not to fall into intimacy of any kind with him.
The best way to ensure her defenses stayed high was to refuse to be baited into even a modest, sociable rapport.
When asked a question, her plan was to answer it in as few words as possible.
Otherwise, she wasn’t available for small talk and other gateway conversations.
The reality was that she didn’t feel like she had much control over her life anymore, and she didn’t like it.
Her binding to Jack was chosen for her, and his nature was an unpleasant surprise about which she could do nothing.
She wouldn’t be able to go down to Dartmouth this week to teach or visit her samples, and now she couldn’t even live in her own home.
Not to mention, her heart—her treacherous, traitorous heart—wouldn’t listen to the ample reason offered by her head and insisted on doing its own thing: loving Jack wholly and unreservedly, in spite of what he was.
And her body—her weak, eager, panting body—wouldn’t stop leaping and catching and tingling and shivering like a wild animal in heat just because he sat beside her.
Well, she thought, you two can suck it. My mind’s in charge. And my mind says no.
Her mind said no to loving him and no to wanting him. No to losing time and feverish skin and a life spent with a creature of such depravity. No to sisters who want you dead and customs you can’t comprehend. No! No! No!
She heard Jack’s voice ask a question and whipped her head to him.
“No!” she blurted out.
“Whoa!” He looked confused, brows furrowed. “Fine. Carry your own bags. I was just trying to help.”
Darcy looked around. They were parked in front of his lodge, and she saw Julien through the windshield, walking over to the garage. She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped.
She looked up at the dark house and realized she’d never seen it so still and dark. No lights on. Which meant he’d come to her first, directly, not even stopping at home first.
“I don’t want your help,” she muttered.
“Fine,” he said again, his voice terse and growly. “You know, it’s going to be a delightful few days if you’re planning to be this unpleasant.”
“Huh.” She turned to him, tapping her chin with one finger, forgetting her rule not to engage in conversation with him.
“Am I not being pleasant enough for you? Pray tell me, master of comportment, how I am meant to behave when the man I have loved my whole life turns out to be a werewolf who eats people and has a little sister who wants to kill me? Am I not being delightful enough for you?”
He had sucked in a deep breath as she yelled at him, and his narrowed eyes widened with tenderness as his face softened, his lips parting in surprise.
What? What did I just—
She sighed, biting her lower lip in frustration, realizing what she’d said. Damn it. She’d just told him that she’d loved him her whole life.
“Say it again,” he demanded softly, his voice breathless, deep and rich, laced with wonder, naked in her ears, saturated with the full measure of his desperation. He reached out to touch the hand closest to him, covering it with his as it rested on her bare thigh.
His face. The hope and tenderness on his face was so beautiful, so heartbreakingly beautiful, he looked like the boy she’d loved so desperately in high school, striding toward her in the darkness, a year’s worth of brooding suddenly replaced by gentleness, by hope, as he pressed his lips to hers and changed her life forever.
“Please, Darcy.”
She winced at his words and at the heat.
The dazzling, perfect, familiar heat of his hand covering hers, his flesh melting into hers, her defenses wavering as his eyes besieged hers.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage, making it hard to draw a deep breath, and a small, strangled sob escaped her throat as she gazed at him.
It was just enough to jar her from her thoughts, from her feverish, fathomless longing.
She reached inside, clawing for her anger and unearthing it, and pulled her hand away.
She looked down, clenching her teeth together as her mind resumed control with one searing, deliberate, blistering word.
“No.”
Then she turned and opened her door, swinging her duffel bag up on her shoulder and breathing deeply as she beelined to the house.
Her life might be in utter chaos, but what small authority she still had over her words was hers and hers alone. And while she might need to stay with him for her own safety, she didn’t have to like it.
God damn it! Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Fuck!
He quelled the urge to slam his hands into the steering wheel, curling them into fists instead, feeling his eyes brighten to gold with frustration.
She had caught him utterly and completely off guard.
He never even dreamed he’d hear the word love fall from her lips when she flashed her eyes at him, using that sarcastic, smartass, condescending tone.
And now that he’d been teased with it, he ached to hear it again.
Her refusal felt cruel and left him cold.
Damn it. What a fucking mess.
He exhaled loudly, puffing in frustration.
She didn’t want him? Fine.
She wanted to hate him for destroying her life? Have at it.
And if she wanted to think of him as nothing more than a sinister, cannibalistic monster all the livelong day until the cows came home? Great!
She could stay in her snit, and he’d give her a wide berth. If that’s how it had to be? Aces. Fabulous. Fine!
She stood by the front door with her back to him. She refused to turn around, even though he was taking his time in the car. His nostrils flared with frustration, and he clenched his jaw together until it throbbed.
He didn’t want her rigid and angry, repulsed by him, suspicious and spiteful. He wanted her loving and warm, pliant beneath him, whispering her everlasting love. He shuddered as he heard her words in his head again. The man I have loved my whole life.
Regardless of what she’d inadvertently said, and how good it felt to hear it, he seemed closer to China than to getting Darcy back in his bed.
And now to know, on some level, no matter how much she wished she didn’t, that she loved him, just made it worse.
Damn it! Damn, damn, damn! After a lifetime of waiting for her and then actually having her, facing her coldness was beyond frustrating.
Especially when he could tell that, whether she liked it or not, she still wanted him too.
Stubborn woman.
When he had covered her hand, he felt her heart rate speed up, felt her lungs compress from the pounding beat.
He could smell the sudden rush of wetness between her thighs, the way her body heated up almost instantly, preparing itself for him.
He’d read the lust in her eyes before she’d looked away.
It softened Jack’s anger to realize how hard she was fighting against her feelings for him and attraction to him.
He suddenly heard Tombeur’s words, still fresh in his head from last night. Never saw a binding as strong as yours.
He sat back in his seat, watching her thoughtfully through the windshield.
The way she had her hair pulled back into that severe ponytail at the nape of her neck.
He could tell that her arms were crossed over her chest, her posture defensive and guarded, even from behind.
She was in a defensive position, which made his eyes widen in realization.
She did want him.
She did love him.
She wouldn’t surrender to him.
And she wasn’t just fighting him. She was fighting herself. It struck him with clarity and poignancy as he watched her shiver once, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, still refusing to turn around. This wasn’t about her heart or her body. This was about her head.
Jack took a deep breath, processing his thoughts.
She was a scientist, suddenly surrounded by circumstances that made no sense to her.
In a Roug-to-Roug binding, this wouldn’t have been an issue.
Both mates would have long ago acknowledged their nature and gifts, embraced the strange, iron bond that compelled them, and enjoyed the special connections that accompanied it.
He felt a wave of compassion for her as he realized how difficult it must be for her to accept who he was and who they were as a bound couple.
He was expecting her to accept the realities of his supernatural world, which had to be painfully, shockingly impossible for such a logical mind.
And then he knew. You want her body and her heart? You’re going to have to win her mind.