Chapter 26 – CAMILLE
CAMILLE
The path from the lake winds upward through the trees as Jax carries me without any sign of strain. Each step is sure despite the darkness, and his breathing is steady against my ear. The night air is cold, making me burrow deeper into his warmth.
“The artifact,” I mumble against his neck. “Where...”
“Already handled.” His voice rumbles through his chest. “Threw it into the deepest part of the lake. No one’s using that thing again.”
The packhouse appears through the trees, windows glowing against the darkness. He doesn’t hesitate, heading straight for the side entrance that leads to the clinic. His feet are silent on the steps, but the door bangs loudly when he shoulders through it.
The hallway is dim, lit only by emergency lighting. Everyone has been put on lockdown, sent back to their living quarters, until Dean can be sure the threat is fully eliminated, and they’re not looking for anyone else.
Compared to the usual buzz of voices and activity in the packhouse, tonight, it feels eerily quiet and abandoned.
Jax navigates without hesitation to an exam room at the far end of the clinic.
“Here.” He sets me on the bed, the paper cover crinkling. His hands linger at my waist, reluctant to let go completely. “I need to check you over.”
Moving around the room with confidence, he pulls supplies from cabinets and accumulates all the things he needs. There’s something very appealing about seeing him in his element. A steadiness in his movements that settles my frantic wolf, who’s still not quite convinced we’re safe.
The methodical preparation also appears to transform him, the tension in his shoulders easing, his heartbeat slowing, and his wolf retreating to let him take over, seemingly calmer now.
Back to himself. The same man who just tore out an alpha’s throat is now warming a stethoscope between his palms, so it won’t shock my skin.
These two sides of Jax couldn’t be more different.
He’s not just a damaged wolf who’s evaded sanction by the council by hiding out in his pack. He’s a fiercely loyal pack mate and a deadly warrior. I’m pretty confident that if Jax had entered the Games, he’d be preparing for a final right now.
“Temperature first.” He turns to prepare other equipment while we wait.
I study him working in the quiet. His hair is starting to dry, curling slightly at his neck. His expression is completely focussed. This is his sanctuary, I realize. The place where he’s not the dangerous brother, but someone useful and needed.
Pulling out the thermometer, he frowns at the reading. “Too low.” He nods at the fabric clinging to my chest. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. I’ll help.”
His hands are steady as he helps me peel away the soaked shirt. When it finally comes free, cool air hits my damp skin, and I shiver. He sucks in a breath, but from relief, not desire.
“You’re not bruised.” He traces a finger along my ribs where he gave me CPR.
It hurts, but there’s nothing broken. His touch is feather light, exploring as it travels across my sternum and then down between my breasts.
“I thought there would be marks. I was trying not to break anything, but… I had to…”
Guilt rolls off him.
“Even if I did have broken ribs, I couldn’t be mad at you for saving my life.” I catch his hand, holding it against my skin. “And I heal fast.”
Relief flashes across his face. He helps me out of the rest of my wet clothes, hands lingering as he checks for injuries, but there’s nothing left other than the faded pink remnants of scratches from being dragged along the ground.
The care in his touch makes something warm bloom in my chest. I practically melt when he produces a soft nightgown and helps me into it like I’m something precious, guiding my arms through the sleeves and flicking my hair out from the collar.
When his fingers brush my neck, I feel the tingles all the way to my core.
“Your turn.” I gesture at his soaked clothes.
He strips quickly, carefully folding the damp scarf and putting it to one side before digging out a pair of scrubs from a long cupboard off to the side.
Scars covering his torso stretch as he moves, the shiny, silvery skin more visible in the fluorescent light.
They’re everywhere, old ones layered over newer ones, telling stories I’m sure I’ll never fully understand.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He pulls on the dry shirt, catching my stare.
“Like what?”
His mood has darkened as he looks down at the floor, ashamed.
“Like you pity me.” He gives me his back, pretending to check the supplies he’s already gathered.
“I don’t pity you.” I stand slowly, testing the steadiness of my legs before closing the distance between us. “I’m impressed you survived.”
He goes still as I rest my hand on his arm and turn him, reaching up to touch his face, my thumb brushing over a faint line on his chin. His eyes close briefly, leaning into the contact.
“Everyone wants to fix you,” I continue softly. “Make you fit their idea of what a wolf should be. But tonight proved what I already knew. You’re perfect, exactly as you are.”
He shakes his head.
“Stop.” The word comes out strained. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” I press closer, feeling his hands come up automatically to rest on my waist. “Your wolf saved me because you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be. Wild. Untamed. And all mine.”
His hands tighten on my hips, and his chest rises. When he continues to shake his head from side to side, for a moment, I think he’ll push me away. Instead, he lifts me, setting me on the exam table and stepping between my knees.
“The Council could put me down. Or bind my wolf.” His voice is controlled, but I see the tendons bulging in his neck, and the veins popping in his arms.
A fate worse than death for most shifters, where the wolf is subdued by magic, unable to surface and take control.
“They won’t. I won’t allow it.” I frame his face with my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You’re the good guy here.”
He sighs.
“Even if I’m not in trouble for that, they’ll sense him, feel his wrongness, and that’ll be it. There’ll be no hiding then.”
I pull him down until our foreheads touch. The contact grounds us both. “I wouldn’t change a thing about your wolf. We can make this work, Jax. Us. I know we can.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. I can feel the war in him, the struggle between what he wants and what he thinks is right. “Maybe.”
Then his hands start moving. One slides up to cup the back of my neck while the other traces patterns on my bare thigh, pushing the hem of the nightgown higher.
“I need to make sure you’re fully warmed up.” His voice has dropped to something deeper. “Doctor’s order.”
His hand moves higher, fingers spreading across my thigh.
My breath catches at the heat of his palm through the fabric. “You’re trying to distract me.”
Jax shrugs. “Do you care? Or object to my treatment methods?”
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
“No objections.” The words come out breathless. “But we have to talk about...”
His fingers find the line where my leg meets my hip, tracing along the edge. It’s ticklish, and I squirm, aware that my wet underwear is sitting in the pile of discarded clothes, leaving me bare for him.
“Not now. No more talking. You’ve been through trauma. You need to relax.” He smiles down at me, checking to make sure I’ve recovered enough for this.
“Is that your professional medical opinion?” I want to laugh at the absurdity, but then his hand brushes against my sensitive mound, and all coherent thought scatters. He watches my face intently as he explores, cataloguing every reaction.
“So responsive.” He says it like an observation, but there’s heat in his eyes now. Dark hunger barely stays in check as he slips one finger inside me. “That’s good. Very good.”
His touch is gentle but devastating. He takes his time, building slowly, refusing to be rushed, even when I grab his shoulders and try to urge him faster. Every movement is deliberate, controlled. It’s nothing like I expected from the wild wolf everyone fears.
“Jax.” His name breaks on a gasp as he finds exactly the right angle, adding a second finger to stretch me further. My nails dig into his shoulders through the thin top as I lift off the bed. “Please.”
I’m dripping for him as he slides his fingers in and out with ease.
Spreading my juices over my clit, he uses his thumb to drive me higher, staring at my face as I pant and gasp.
“Let go.” His free hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”
When I relax and give in to the pleasure, everything explodes into brightness.
His teeth graze my neck. The sharp press of fangs against the sensitive skin where a mate mark would go is exhilarating. For a moment, time stops, and I think he’ll do it. Claim me here and now.
And I want him to.
But he jerks back abruptly, breathing hard. His eyes are wild now, more wolf than human.
“I can’t.” The words sound torn from him. “I won’t mark you if it might hurt you.”
My brain can’t fathom the mental gymnastics he’s doing.
“You won’t be wild once we’re mated.” I’m still catching my breath, body humming from his touch. “The bond will settle your wolf.”
I know it with every fibre of my being.
“Maybe,” he says again as he steps back, putting distance between us. The loss of his warmth makes me want to reach for him. “Maybe not. It’s too much of a risk.”
Damn him and his stubbornness.
“That’s not your choice to make alone.” My wolf is angry that he’s taunted us with the prospect of a bite only to pull away.
He’s the shifter equivalent of a prick tease.
“Yes, it is.” He’s already at the door, not meeting my eyes. “Stay here. Rest. I’ll... I’ll be right back.”
But I know he won’t be. He doesn’t trust himself not to mark me, and more frustratingly, doesn’t trust that I know what I’m choosing.
The door closes behind him with a soft click. I sit there for five minutes, letting my breathing settle, and my legs remember how to work before I slide off the table.
He doesn’t get to make this choice for both of us and doesn’t get to decide I need protecting from him.
The hallway is empty when I peek out, but I know exactly where he’s gone.
I follow quietly, bare feet silent on the cool floor. The trail leads through the kitchen, past the empty common rooms. Other wolves are still at the lake dealing with the aftermath. We’re alone.
Tiptoeing into the mudroom at the back entrance, I get a thrill at the idea of stalking my mate. The basement door is there, keypad glowing softly in the dim light. My fingers move over the numbers quickly, entering the code from memory.
The lock clicks open, and I pull the door wide then descend into darkness.
The temperature drops with each step down. The stairs are rough concrete under my feet, the walls close enough to touch on both sides. Jax’s familiar scent surrounds me.
“Jax?” My voice echoes off the stone walls. “I know you’re here.”
A growl rumbles from somewhere in the shadows ahead. Not quite wolf, not quite human. The sound raises goosebumps along my arms, but not from fear. This is my mate.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice comes from the far corner, rough and strained. “Go back upstairs, Camille.”
“No.” I move toward the sound, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, seeing the outline of chains on the walls. “Not this time. We need to talk about what just happened.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I can make out his shape now, pressed against the wall, like he’s trying to disappear into the stone. “I almost marked you. Without permission. Without making sure it’s what you really want.”
I frown at him, my noble idiot.
“It is what I want.” I stop a few feet away, giving him space, but not letting him hide from me. “You know it is.”
“You don’t understand what you’re signing up for.” He shifts, and I can see him better now. Still in the scrubs from the clinic, hair wild, and eyes reflecting what little light filters down from above. “You’ll be bound to a dead wolf walking. Do you know what that does to someone?”
Now it’s my turn to be stubborn.
“You’re not going to die.” I take another step closer.
His whole body goes rigid, muscles tensing, fighting not to move. Another step. I can feel the heat radiating from him now, and can see the way his chest rises and falls too quickly.
“My wolf wants to claim you.” The words come out guttural, forced through clenched teeth. “Right now. He’s barely under control.”
“Good.” I close the final distance between us, watching his whole body go rigid. “Because I want to be claimed.”
Nothing like laying it all out there. I never thought I’d be begging my mate to mark me, but here we are.
“Camille.” My name is half warning, half plea. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I reach up to touch his face, feeling him shudder at the contact. “Don’t want you? Too late for that. Don’t trust you? I trusted you with my life tonight, and you saved me.”
When I press closer, I feel his control fracture.
His hands come up to grip my arms, but the chains snap them back, too short to let him reach me.
“Once I mark you, it can’t be undone. You’ll be tied to me forever. To this.” He gestures at himself, at the basement around us, and the heavy-duty chains.
“Good.” I meet his glowing eyes. “I want all of it. The wolf who saved me. The healer who took care of me. The man who’s trying so hard to protect me, that he’s hurting himself.”
Something breaks in his expression. The careful control he’s been maintaining cracks, and he shows the raw need underneath.
“I can’t be fixed.” The words are desperate.
Ignoring his warning, I slide my hands up his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing under my palms. “I want you exactly as you are.”
Giving into temptation, I reach up, threading my fingers through his hair.
He stares at me for a long moment, searching my face for doubt or fear.
When he doesn’t find any, something shifts.
His mouth crashes down on mine, all teeth and desperate hunger.
There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing careful.
It’s just raw need and possession and everything he’s been holding back.
I meet him with equal fervour, showing him without words that this is what I want.
What I choose.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard. His eyes are pure wolf now, glowing in the darkness. He tugs at his chains like he just remembered they were holding him in place.
A growl rumbles through his chest, but I ignore it, dropping to my knees in front of him.
His whole body goes still. “Camille...”
“Trust me.” I look up at him, letting him see my determination. “Let me show you I’m not afraid.”