Chapter 35 - Dove
Wanting Wolf isn’t enough. Not after everything he’s lived through.
If I put my hands on him without understanding every land mine planted beneath his skin, I could hurt him in irreparable ways. I’m not afraid of his scars or the ghosts in his head. I’m afraid of becoming one of them.
And there’s something else, something he doesn’t see yet.
He needs space to understand himself. Not what Denver beat into him. Not what fear taught him. Not what Jag sparked and confused.
Him.
He needs a healthy perspective about what he wants, who he wants, and why. His orientation isn’t a trauma scar, and it isn’t a debt he owes to anyone.
He needs to know his desire is his own.
He deserves that.
And so do I.
“There’s nothing wrong with your sexuality.” I meet his eyes. “If you’re attracted to men, explore those desires. If you like women, pursue both. Figure out what fits. But if Jag is what you crave…”
“Is it true what they say? Once you stray to gay, you can’t stay away?”
“No. First off, I don’t think you’ve ever been straight. And second, that’s an offensive generalization.”
“I don’t know what I am. I don’t want men or women or anything as boring as that. I want a dove.”
My chest flutters. “You want Jag.”
He opens his mouth, and I see the denial forming.
“You already admitted as much.” I sigh. “Just… Please don’t pursue this thing with him. Not because he’s a man, but because he’s Jag. He’s dangerous.”
“I want you.” He doesn’t say it defensively. He delivers it like a vow that can’t be undone. Resolved. Unshaken. Fearlessly honest.
My pulse swoons, tripping over itself.
I want him, too. So damn much. But the thought terrifies me. I don’t want to be the easy choice, the soft landing after pain. I don’t want to be the one he experiments on just to see if it feels different.
“Wolf…” My voice trembles. “You’ve been through too much. I don’t want to be a trigger. Or worse, a regret.”
“You won’t be either.” He drifts closer, his nearness pulling at me, the heat in his eyes smoldering.
“I need to know what you and Jag did. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“You don’t have the anatomy.” His gaze sweeps over my body. “No parts that trigger me.”
“That doesn’t tell me enough.”
“Yeah, didn’t figure it would.” His unflinching stare hooks mine for a silent beat.
Then he speaks, voice quiet and stripped down.
“At the shop, Jag dared me to prove my heterosexuality. He was weak with fever, too weak to be threatening, sprawled out on his cot, half-dead and stupidly vulnerable, looking at me like… I don’t know.
The way he looked at me made me feel wanted.
Desired. Not the way Denver made me feel.
Not in a manipulative, despicable way. For a hot minute there, it didn’t feel wrong.
Maybe that’s Jag’s game. He says all the right things and gets in your head. ” He shrugs. “It worked.”
I’ve been on the receiving end of Jag’s looks and understand exactly what Wolf’s describing. But I keep that to myself, not interrupting. Barely breathing.
“He promised to keep his hands to himself. His broken wrist over there, his other arm behind his head.” His eyes drift somewhere behind me.
“I couldn’t resist the offer. I needed to know.
So I touched him. Jerked him. Not gently either.
” A muscle jumps in his jaw. “I was mean, every stroke of my fist fueled by anger and confusion and shame. He didn’t stop me, and that only made me want him more. ”
A jealous spasm erupts in my stomach, but I tamp it down because this isn’t about me. It’s about him learning what it means to want without fear.
“I leaned into it.” His fingers pick at the edge of his robe, the movement restless. “I had to know if it felt different with a man who wasn’t forcing himself on me. Someone who wasn’t my self-proclaimed father.”
My throat closes around a hot ember.
“It did. It felt different. Jag kept his promise and didn’t touch me.
Maybe it was his fever, but I think he would’ve let me do just about anything I wanted to him.
So I did. I pulled myself out and jerked us both off in one hand.
But you know what really messed me up? I hurt him the way Denver hurt me, and Jag got off on it.
He fucking enjoyed it. And so did I. It was the first orgasm I ever had with another person. ”
My nails dig into my palms, but I keep my face steady.
“I never enjoyed what Denver did to me,” he whispers.
“Sometimes, my body responded to his abuse against my will, and I hated that. But I never climaxed. Not even close.” He forces a shaky, bitter laugh.
“Denver did, though. He took pleasure in hurting me. And when I was with Jag, I got off on hurting him. What does that make me?”
He stares at his lap, his entire posture caving inward, as if waiting for me to reject him.
“It makes you normal, Wolf. Look at me.” I wait for his gaze and soften my expression. “You were two consenting adults, sharing a heated moment. If Jag didn’t want your touch, fever or not, he would’ve shut it down. I know you know that.”
“Maybe. Didn’t stop me from falling face-first into crazy town afterward. Not because of what we did together, but because of what I felt.”
“You’re not crazy.” I reach up and touch his jaw, my thumb brushing the faint stubble there.
“Debatable.” He leans in, his timbre rumbling in that low, rough register that always finds its way under my skin. “Now you know all my unsexy secrets and regrets.”
“Do you regret what you did with Jag?”
“No.” He searches my eyes. “Is that the part that sends you running?”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
His face softens, just enough to hurt.
“But,” I whisper, “I can’t stay.”
The softness shatters. “Why the hell not?”
“It’s not you.” I hate how cliché that sounds. Even more, I hate how true it is. “It’s the risk.”
“What risk?” His jaw clicks, nostrils flaring. “You think you’ll hurt me? That’s as insulting as—”
“Jag.”
“Jag?” His expression shifts. Not fear. Not surprise. More like annoyance that I picked the wrong subject to argue.
“What about him?”
“You know what he does.” My chest tightens. “People die around him. Men who show interest in me. He’s possessive and violent—”
“He wouldn’t kill me.” He says it like it’s obvious, matter-of-fact, like a man defending his lover.
The jealousy hits again, a stupid flash low in my stomach. “Wolf…”
“I’m not one of your abusive foster brothers or pervy stalkers, begging for Jag’s wrath. He and I have an understanding.”
“Oh, because you shared an orgasm together, you’re no longer his enemy?”
“Well… Yeah.”
“Gavin is dead, Wolf.” I hug my waist.
“What?” He stiffens. “Your ex? When?”
I pull up the obituary on my phone and hand it to him.
He reads it and loosens a disbelieving breath. Then he presses the back button and sees the text from Gavin’s mother.
“You learned about this four days ago.” He pins me with an accusing glare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I learned about it right before I found you in the shower and…” I wave my hand around. “There hasn’t been a good time to bring it up.”
“That’s no excuse. Christ.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, his features gentling. “You shouldn’t have carried that alone. You could’ve told me. I would’ve held some of it for you.”
“You were dealing with enough.”
“Give me some credit, darling. I’m built to handle the heavy stuff.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to talk about it? About Gavin’s death?”
I flinch. “No.”
“How did he die?”
“Jag.” My chest constricts. “Jag killed him.”
“How do you know?” His face goes pale and feral all at once.
“It’s always him, Wolf. It’s what he does.”
“So that’s it? You’re leaving me because you think he’s coming for me next?”
“I’m trying to protect you.” My voice cracks. “Not ruin your life. Not drag you into mine.”
“Protect me?” He stands abruptly, anger blasting off him. “I’ve survived things that would snap most people in half. Stop trying to guard me like I’m fragile.”
“Not fragile.” I lift my chin. “But you’re not invincible. And Jag—”
“He would never kill me!”
“He killed Gavin!” I stand, too, breath shaking. “Gavin was his lover. He knew Gavin had fallen for him, and he killed him anyway. What do you think he’ll do to you once he realizes you—” I bite down on my trembling lip.
“Once he realizes what?” He presses into my space, the air between us boiling.
I look down at the phone in his hand then back at him. “Once he realizes you want him and me.”
“That’s not—” His eyes flash with hurt, anger, and possession all tangled together. “That’s my problem, not yours.”
“Dammit, Wolf.”
“You want to leave me? Then give me a reason that isn’t Jag.”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because I don’t have another reason. Not one that holds up.
He sees it, feels it, and makes a wicked growling sound that vibrates my bones, terrifying in its certainty. “Then you’re not leaving.”
“You can’t keep me here.” I cross my arms.
“No.” He puts his face in mine, his breath hot on my lips. “But I can be very persuasive.”
“Why?” I retreat, dropping my head in my hands before meeting his feral blue eyes. “Why are you fighting so hard for me? You can have anyone you want. Men, women, whoever. I’m not your fairy tale princess. I’m a disaster. I can barely keep my life from setting itself on fire.”
He stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“I’m a fucked-up mess.” My hands fly to my hair, tugging at the roots. “A messy, unwanted orphan who aged out of the system. No parents. No friends. I’m in no place to be good for anyone. I need to get my shit together before I even think about being with someone.”
“How?” His expression twists. “I don’t see it. How are you fucked-up?”
I freeze, my lungs buckling. “I was eight when my mother was killed.”
He blinks. “I was eight when I killed mine.”