Chapter 6 – JAX
JAX
Iwake up, hard and aching. Her scent fills my nose, and my cock throbs as fragments of dreams scatter.
In the dream, she’d been beneath me, back arched, as I drove into her, my name breaking from her lips.
When I walked up her porch steps, into her cabin, she’d said nothing, just opened the door wide for me, took my hand, and led me to bed.
Like she was just waiting for me to come home.
In reality, the last clear image I have is of volunteering for border patrol at dusk, desperate to get away from the compound. Away from her.
I’d watched her all day yesterday from various vantage points, hating how she laughed with the competitors at the training ground, and how they circled her like eager pups.
Ryan was the worst, leaning too close, touching her arm when he made her laugh.
None of them recognized who she really is, or what she’s here for.
They saw a beautiful female and lost all sense, accepting her story about being here to quietly observe the games without question.
Idiots.
It doesn’t say much about their alpha potential if they can’t spot a well-trained enforcer when they meet one.
Only Ryan’s father, an experienced old alpha who knows a powerful woman when he meets one, had the sense to steer his son away from hitting on Camille and back to focusing on his skills.
My wolf had raged at every touch, every smile she gave them. They should’ve all been for me. I’d even dug my extended claws into my palms to draw blood just to keep myself from storming in there and creating a scene.
From showing them all exactly who she belongs to.
I thought the patrol would’ve helped give me distance from her tempting scent, but my wolf’s possessiveness got worse as the day went on, determined to get to her. I vaguely remember fighting the shift as darkness fell, my wolf demanding we visit her cabin to make sure she was safe. And alone.
A battle I clearly lost as I sit upright, staring at the scrunched-up fabric in my fist.
Her scarf. Her smell.
The material is wrinkled from my grip, her delicious scent now mingling with mine.
I’ve no memory of taking it, but the evidence is wrapped around my hand.
Fragments return in flashes as I sit up and bury my fingers into my mussed-up hair, squeezing my eyes shut against the flashing images torturing me with what I did. Not memories, exactly, more like echoes.
Camille on that porch again, wine glass dangling from her fingers, blonde hair hanging loose around her slim shoulders. Her curiosity growing as I crept closer. How she’d pressed her hand between her thighs, just for a moment, when she thought the darkness hid her.
Or maybe she knew I was watching. Maybe she wanted me to see, to hear her breathy little moans.
“Fuck.” The word comes out more growl than speech.
My wolf stirs, smug and satisfied. He got what he wanted, some of her scent in our den, although he’d prefer if it were from her skin against my sheets rather than a piece of stolen clothing.
A fist pounds on the basement door, making me scramble to hide the scarf, my precious contraband, under my pillow. Dean’s voice carries through the wood, irritated and concerned.
“Jax, get up. I need you to be functional today, not hiding in your cave.” A pause. “Or attacking people for no reason in the breakfast line.”
So he heard about that one.
My hands shake as I quickly pull on yesterday’s jeans, buttoning them as I go, adjusting myself awkwardly to hide the hard-on that just won’t go away, then hurrying toward the stairs.
“I’m up,” I call, heading for the stairs to cut him off as the keypad beeps with each digit of the code he enters.
I meet him at the top, blocking the doorway with my body. He can’t come down, can’t enter the basement that probably carries her smell.
Dean’s eyes narrow, taking in my defensive stance. “You look like hell. And you skipped out halfway through your patrol last night.”
I grunt and fold my arms across my chest, which has a sheen of perspiration on it that doesn’t go unnoticed by my perceptive brother.
“Didn’t sleep well.” Not a lie. The dreams were too vivid. Too real. Enjoyable but unsatisfactory. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or pissed off that you’re keeping tabs on me.”
His jaw clenches, and those grey eyes turn to steel.
I do more shifts than anyone, and he knows it, covering for all the young wolves who want to go out and enjoy the festivities.
I’m happier working, running the borders, staying busy by night and sleeping during the day when everyone else is awake and moving about.
“It’s not keeping tabs when everyone I meet keeps telling me new stories about you flipping out for no reason.”
I’m tempted to make a joke, but if I want him out of here, I need to reassure him, not aggravate him. “Sorry. I’ll keep him in check today.”
Dean doesn’t reply. He wants to believe me, but my track record isn’t great.
“When’s the last time you ate?” His voice has an edge, brotherly concern replacing annoyance at my antics.
“Last night.”
Another lie.
Food tastes like ash. I couldn’t stay at breakfast yesterday once I saw her, after I lost it over someone pouring a coffee for her.
“Bullshit.” He crosses his arms, feet planted wide, eyes narrowed. “Jax, you’re falling apart. This is the worst I’ve seen you in a long time. Whatever’s going on… maybe we need to talk to Blake again…”
My wolf resents the intrusion, wanting to be left alone to pursue our mate how we see fit.
“No.”
Dean might be all alpha, but one of the perks of having a wolf who’s as broken as mine is he constantly chooses attack as the best form of defence and doesn’t give a shit about rank.
He’s perfectly fine with getting his ass kicked. And when it happens every day of your life growing up, you become sort of immune to the pain.
“I’m fine.” I soften my tone, hoping to avoid getting dragged in front of Dean’s alpha to explain my erratic behaviour.
He scoffs, running a tanned hand through his dark hair, watching me as I shift my weight, ready to slam the door if he tries to push past me. Proving his point that I’m not acting as a normal wolf, one who would submit to his alpha rather than fight him, would.
“You’re not fine.” His tone is stern, but Dean is nothing like my father, so instead of being pissed off that I’m disrespecting him and his alpha position, he simply grows even more worried about what I’m hiding behind my bluster.
“I will be. I promise.” Unfortunately, neither of us believes that.
His jaw tightens, frustration bleeding through at my stubbornness.
For years, he’s done everything he could think of to help me get a handle on my wolf, including keeping our borders closed, and our pack isolated longer than he should have.
“I need your help with the investigation, not… being all sweaty, acting weird and drawing attention to yourself…” He stops mid-sentence, nostrils flaring slightly. His head tilts, expression shifting from anger to confusion.
Dread turns the blood in my veins to ice. Can he smell her scarf? I force myself not to react, keeping my breathing steady, and go for an abrupt change of subject before he follows his nose down into my den.
“What do you need me to do? Go through the cabins and see if I can scent the magic again?”
Dean’s attention turns back to me, and he shakes his head.
“You’re not a sniffer dog. And we don’t want to tip them off.”
His frown deepens as he takes a half step closer, and I have to fight not to bare my teeth. He can feel my rage, not understanding that my wolf is angry that he might try to take the scarf from us if he finds it.
“I may as well be. I’m no good at anything else.” The words tumble out too fast. I scratch the back of my neck, trying to look casual while deep inside, my wolf claws at me, trying to get out.
Dean opens his mouth to reassure me, no doubt, to remind me how valuable my work in the clinic is, blah blah blah, but thankfully, someone calls his name from the main house. He glances over his shoulder then, torn between duty and his need to interrogate me.
“We’re not done with this conversation.” He points at me, alpha command threading through his voice.
“Get yourself together, maybe even take a shower, and actually eat something. Then come find me.” He pauses at the top of the stairs, his expression softening slightly. “I mean it, Jax. I need your help.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. The moment his footsteps fade, I’m back at my bed, pulling out the scarf. My hands won’t stop shaking as I bring it to my nose again.
The relief is immediate. Her scent calms the frantic edge that’s been sawing at my control. The scarf should go back. The rational part of me knows this. Give it back, apologise, and explain that my wolf is broken, and that’s why we can’t be together.
Warn her that this could happen again.
But my wolf snarls at the thought. The scrap of fabric is ours now, a piece of my mate to have with me in her stead. It will never be enough, but it’s something.
Tonight, I tell myself. I’ll return it tonight.
But I already know it’s a lie, and that I’ll be breathing in her scent again come dusk.
My stomach cramps, reminding me of Dean’s orders to eat, so I force down half a protein bar before my body rebels, unwilling to risk another visit to the packhouse dining hall in case she’s there.
I can’t be another source of drama for my brother today. We’ve managed to get through the attempted murders of his rogue mate and her brother, and now we’ve got a stolen magical weapon being used on our territory. The least I can do is not ruin everything by going feral in the middle of the brunch.
A freezing shower helps marginally, the blast of cold water clearing my thoughts some. I dress quickly in clean clothes, knowing Dean wants progress on this investigation, and fast.
DEAN: Meet me at the Eastern training grounds. Now.
His voice cuts through the mind link, curt and commanding.