Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jay
The infirmary is different from I remember it. The renovations have wiped away any memory of what happened here. If it didn’t haunt me every day, I probably wouldn’t have known it was the same place.
Someone else who won’t soon forget is frowning in front of me.
His heartbeat’s rhythm has changed, uncomfortable and unsettled.
He opens and slams every drawer in a huff when he can’t find what he’s looking for.
He mutters curses under his breath. I can only imagine how hard it must be to be back here, especially with me.
“There it is. Finally,” Caleb breathes when he finds the tape.
I hop up onto the trainer’s table. He rolls a stool to me and cuts the adhesive with his teeth. He wraps it around my fist. “You hit him pretty hard.”
“I know. He’s always had a hard head.”
His lip curls upward. He glances at me briefly and then back down to the tape, checking its tightness as he lays it down. “You say that like you know from experience.”
“I . . . May have punched him once before,” I lie. “Okay, twice.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Alright, fine. Three times.”
He fully smiles at that. “Have you?”
“You’ve met him. What do you think?” I mutter.
He chuckles. “I thought you hated fighting.”
“I do, but that doesn’t make me a pacifist,” I joke. I watch him go round and round, wrapping my fist. I lower my voice. “I’m sorry for what he said. That wasn’t right.”
A deep sigh escapes him, but he nods, accepting. “Not your fault. You warned him. Think he learned his lesson?”
I snort. “Did you not hear how many times I’ve punched him?”
“Fair,” he smiles. “Alright, that should do it.” He tears off the excess tape with his teeth.
Warmth rushes to my cheeks.
Okay, he really needs to stop doing that.
Caleb squeezes the sides, checking for himself. “How does that feel? Good? Too tight?”
I inspect it. “No, it’s—it’s perfect.” But I wasn’t talking about his wrapping skills.
“What you did was brave. But, now I have to punish you.” He stands and walks to the door.
“Punish me? Why?”
He shuts the door. It clicks twice. The first when it latches, the second when he turns the lock.
They’ve fortified the door since my assault on their alpha. I’m not getting out unless Caleb wants me out.
Facing away from me, he tucks the tape back into its drawer. His knuckles press into the table in front of him, as he leans all of his weight into it in a lunged position.
He isn’t looking at me.
“You put yourself in the middle of a fight.”
“Yeah and?”
He lifts his head to the ceiling and takes a deep breath and sighs audibly. Hoarse, he says, “It worried me.”
I swallow hard at his admittance.
He cares for me.
It’s like he’s let me in on a little secret I shouldn’t be privy to.
“Why would that bother you? I’m just a rogue. And you know what I did. I mean, look where we are.”
“I know where we are,” he says, voice low. “Believe me, I’m well aware of what happened here. My father’s memory haunts me in many ways, but this place isn’t one of them. That day was one of the few times he—or anyone—stepped foot in here.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
Caleb whips his head around. “Because I’m back here again with someone I—” He presses his mouth into a thin, hard line. He turns again. “It doesn’t matter.”
I want to ask him to finish, but I already know because the same feeling is starting in me. Suddenly, it seems less scary to take my punishment than to hear him speak it. “What’s my punishment?”
“Get on your knees.”
He turns to find me waiting for him.
My knees are pressed against the cold, unforgiving tile.
He stops in front of me. He exhales, gripping my chin to force me to look up at him. “Do you think you can play fast and loose with your life? Have you forgotten that such privilege belongs only to me?”
The way he says it so possessively, you would think he is a god who gets to determine the souls he can collect.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” I say softly. “I’ve survived far worse.”
His lips press into a hard line, and his jaw ticks. “What was your goal, anyhow?”
I’m not sure what he wants me to say. I didn’t want to see them fight and didn’t want to choose—although the choice was obvious.
“I don’t know . . . Peace?”
“And you thought you could do that alone? I bet if you were alone, you’d still take them on.”
He almost sounds offended, like he can’t believe that I’d stand up for myself if I needed to.
He’s not wrong. If I had to, I would. And I’d probably win, unfortunately.
“You didn’t even call for backup.”
Backup? What is he talking about?
“You have people who would die for you and were a call away. Yet you didn’t bother trying. Why? Did you want to die?”
My lip quivers as I’m trying to gather my thoughts. I don’t think we’re talking about me anymore.
“Uh . . . what?”
I give him a once over. His nails dig into his palm, and his wolf’s gold shines behind his eyes. The appearance of his wolf doesn’t hide his grief, and three things flash across my mind as possible truths.
One, he hasn’t been in here since I took his father’s life.
Two, I’m not the only one he blames for that day.
And three, I’m not the only one who gets triggered.
Caleb practically rips his belt off, freeing his cock from his shorts. “Spit on it.”
I lean forward and spit on his cock.
“Good girl.” He gathers my saliva and spreads it over his shaft, stroking himself hard.
He drags his penis across my face, smacking my cheeks with it.
“Put your mouth on it.”
Leaning into him, I tease the underside of his plump head with my tongue before easing down his length. My hand rises and guides me. Up and down, I bob along his shaft, cheeks hollowing with every stroke.
Caleb fists his hand into my hair and pumps himself into my mouth by controlling the movement of my head. With each thrust, he tears me apart with his words. “You’re a naughty girl, making me worry about a filthy rogue like you.”
His salty precum spills onto my tastebuds. A reward for driving him completely mad.
“Your mouth . . . Dammit Jay. You suck me so well.”
He pulls me off him, fist still tangled in my hair.
I’m panting to catch my breath.
He smacks me once across the mouth.
It stings, but in all the best ways, making me wet. I didn’t know I’d like something like that, but I moan.
Without warning, he stuffs himself back into my mouth, bobbing me up and down.
I receive encouraging words and praise as I gag around him.
“You’re unraveling me. But you know that already, don’t you? You planned this, I’m sure. You and the devil you work for.”
He smacks my tits, then cups and kneads them.
I love how he’s using my body to make himself feel good.
To know I could make him feel this good and have something this man needs fills me with pride.
Every ounce of pain or discomfort he gifts me in this manner brings me intense pleasure—and him as well.
Anyone else would say we’re two fucked up individuals, but they’re wrong.
To please this man in this room is the closure we needed.
It’s cathartic. It’s healing. It’s . . .
comfort, coming from the last person we ever thought could bring us anything but pain.
It’s here on my knees that it all clicks for me. The pain he’s feeling is too great for words to express properly, so he gives it to someone else. Someone who is strong enough to take it. Someone who can find pleasure in it.
I am his outlet. And because of that, I cup his balls and roll them gently in my hand.
He shudders at my touch and hisses. “I’m getting close.”
I love that I can make him feel this way.
“Open your mouth. Tongue out.”
I do.
“Stay just like that.” A few quick pumps later, and he’s spilling inside my mouth. “Swallow me, baby girl . . . Ah, yes . . . Damn.”
Once his orgasm subsides, he pulls himself out of my mouth and releases my hair. He pets me on the head and drags his tongue over my lip. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
He lifts me up and onto the examination table. His forehead rests against mine. We’re breathing into each other, and it seems like for once we’re breathing the same air—sharing the last bit of oxygen left.
I breathe out, and he breathes in, passing it back and forth, ensuring each other stay alive. We stare at each other for a while. And it’s the most intense experience of my life.
I finally see him, and I think he might see me.
More than enemies, we are people with needs that fit like a puzzle.
We each carry pieces with sharp corners and jagged edges can’t fit most places, no matter how hard we’ve tried.
We create a truly unique pairing. We may not want to admit we want each other, but there’s no denying we both have needs only the other can fill.
Without words, we come to a silent agreement.
“Today’s my birthday, and my mom forgot—or .
. . was too grief stricken to care. My mother used to make a big deal out of it.
She’d cook all my favorite things, dress me up in ridiculous matching clothes, take way too many pictures and sing way too loud.
” He laughs softly. “No matter what was going on in life, she was always smiling, bubbly, and her happy self. It’s my first birthday without my dad, and she’s not herself.
” He glances at me before looking down at his fidgeting hands, frowning.
“I know what you’re thinking. Poor little pack boy, his mommy doesn’t celebrate her grown son’s birthday. ’”
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking that at all. I was thinking that it’s gotta be hard—to not only lose your father, but to also feel like you’re losing your mother, too.”
“Exactly. It’s like losing any sense of normalcy. It’s just one more person to grieve. And with everything going on, I haven’t even had a chance to grieve the first loss.”
“Everything else? What else is going on?”
“The council notices that my mom hasn’t been at the meetings lately. She’s weakening and grieving and . . .” He trails off, then shakes his head, not wanting to say the truth: She’s dying. “Anyway, if the council found out, they’ll assign the position of alpha to someone else.”
I didn’t realize how much pressure he’s under, and it is wrong to assume what’s “hard” for someone else.
“Is that why you’re trying to choose a mate?”
“Yes. Then they won’t have a leg to stand on. But Mom won’t get out of bed most days. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the pack notices as well.”
I’ve never seen him so . . . human? Broken? Vulnerable. All I know is that it’s hurting me to see him this way. I reach out to rub his bare chest but hesitate, and Caleb catches me.
“What’re you doing?” He moves away.
I turn my palm face up as if Caleb were a skittish animal. “I was going to try to . . . comfort you . . . if that’s okay?”
“Oh.” His eyes soften, his defenses slowly melting away. “O-okay.”
I place my palm on his chest and rub slow, tiny circles in between his pecs.
Unexpectedly, he pulls me into him, and I melt, resting my head on him.
My wolf purrs at our proximity. I thought it’d be awkward, but it feels . . . nice. Natural.
He wraps an arm around me and rubs my back as well.
He loosens up and relaxes.
I hope my walls crashing down completely don’t disturb his moment of peace.