Her gaze flicked toward him, and for a moment, time was suspended again. Every time he got close to her, he was trapped by the sheer intensity of his response to her. He was aware of her on every level as a woman. Every part of who he was responded to her. He needed to touch her, be with her, help her, and even claim her... except he had no right. He'd brought only hell and damnation upon her and her family. There was no way he was ever going to consider himself worthy of touching her the way he burned to.
But protecting her was different. That was what defined him: guardianship and preservation of those who had no other defenses, even if their most savage enemy was themselves. He'd fallen into the role of an alpha after rescuing assorted wayward shifters who were headed in bad directions. Killing Melissa had violated everything that mattered to him, and he owed everything to the woman in his arms.
Keeping his gaze on Abby's face, he gently clasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it upward. Her lips pressed together, but she didn't look away from his face, making his heart twist. She was looking at him like a cornered wolf pup, willing to trust him, but ready to fight back if she was proven wrong to put her faith in him.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated as he pulled her shirt up to her breasts.
Her lips tightened, and she shrugged. "Whatever." Her nonchalance was superficial, hiding emotion she was determined not to share with him.
Damn. The damage ran deep in her, and it pissed him off. Gritting his jaw, he tore his gaze off hers and looked down at her stomach.
What he saw made fury thunder through him. Her skin was a mass of brutal, devastating scars that went from her breasts to below the waistband of her jeans. How was she still alive? "Son of a bitch, Abby. What happened to you?" But she didn't need to answer him. He knew. The crisscross of old scars were made by teeth, the deep, grievous injury of a wolf shifter trying to disembowel its prey. A fierce, white-hot rage burned through him, fury at what she'd suffered. His need to protect her deepened to a pulsating, powerful compulsion that radiated all the way from the depths of his soul.
He flattened his hand across the scars, as if he could shield her body from the attack that had happened so long ago. The skin was hard and ridged beneath his palms, stretched taut over the injuries. "Jesus, Abby," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."
She slipped her fingers through his hair, and he looked up. Tears were glistening in her eyes, tears that tore past his shields and plunged deep inside him. Swearing, he pressed his hand to her cheeks and brushed his thumb over a tear that trickled free. "I'm sorry," he said again.
A small smile flickered across her face, and she tightened her fingers in his hair. "The few times someone has seen my stomach, they've been repulsed by the ugliness of the scars, and by the horror of the incident that caused them. Everyone retreats, both physically and emotionally...but you didn't." She put her hand on his, which was still spread across her belly. "You touched me like you were trying to heal them and protect me. You poured warmth into me. You looked at me like...you still saw me."
He frowned. "Of course I see you. I already know you're courageous and loyal. Your ability to forgive is unheralded. Those scars were someone's attempt to destroy you, and you didn't let them. You're tough as hell, Abby, but at the same time, there's a kindness to you that still burns brightly despite everything." A wave of regret washed over him. "You deserve so much more than what I did to your family," he said quietly. "I know I can't make it right, but you have my oath that I will stand beside you and fight until you don't need me anymore."
She searched his face. "And then you'll kill yourself, won't you?"
He shrugged, not even caring about his future. Right now, all that mattered was Abby. "My duty is to others. If I'm not safe to be around, then it's my job to address that fact."
She sighed, tracing her finger along his jaw. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her touch. As the pack alpha, he never showed weakness or softness, and no one ever offered it to him...until this moment. Until Abby touched his face so gently that he felt himself falling into the magic she wove around him. For a brief, fierce moment, he wished he'd never become an alpha. He wished he'd somehow found a life where a moment like this one was his reality, something he deserved, something he could have for more than a millisecond in his life.
"What if I could help you with that?" she asked.
"With what? Making this moment last forever?" Shit. Had he really just said that? He snapped his eyes open, and she was staring at him with a shocked look on her face.
Yeah, so apparently, he had just said that. Damn. He had no place fantasizing about that kind of shit. Swearing, he pulled back, reclaiming his side of the SUV. "Let's get going," he said, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "Back to my place. I don't like being out here."
She didn't move. "What if I could teach you to be stronger than the song? That's what I meant."
He went still, his entire body snapping into hypervigilance at the mention of the song that controlled him. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.
"Desensitization. I can sing it and you can practice resisting-"
"No!" He lunged across the seat and pressed his hand to her belly, pinning her to the seat. "Do you feel those scars?" he asked. "Do you? Because I can do so much worse than that. That song unleashed a monster inside me, and if you are anywhere near me when it happens, you're dead. Do you get it? Dead."
"You're not like him," she said, her voice steady, not pulling away from his touch. "You're different."
"So different that I killed your sister? Your fucking sister, Abby. How can you forget that? I'm the monster. I am the monster."
She didn't pull away. No look of horror crossed her face. In fact...she almost looked empathetic. "Jace-"
"Fuck this. Just fuck this." Why couldn't she understand how dangerous he was? Jace shoved open his car door and stepped out, keeping all his weight on his uninjured foot. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against the SUV. He clasped his hands on top of his head and took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
Didn't she see him for what he was? How on earth could she possibly suggest she sing that cursed song to him? She might believe that he could build an immunity to the song, but he knew better. He'd been inside his body when his wolf had taken over. He'd tasted the blood and wanted more. He'd stared into the eyes of her sister while he'd stolen her life, and he'd felt the primal roar of pleasure from his wolf. He'd heard the distant screams of horror from his soul, trying to stop the carnage, and he'd felt the deep satisfaction of his wolf when he'd crushed that pathetic spark of rebellion.
He was the one who'd lived through the moment when his moral code had lost the battle, willingly and completely, to the monster that the song had unleashed. He'd watched helplessly as he'd murdered Melissa, unable to stop himself even as his soul had screamed in horror. He knew the power of that song, and there was no fucking way he would ever trust himself around Abby or anyone else while that song was playing.
How the hell could she look at him and not see the monster he'd become? Instead, she saw only the man he'd tried and failed to be, and she was willing to risk her own life to prove he was the man she wanted him to be.
Desperation coursing through him, he stared up at the blue sky. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" He couldn't afford to be around her, but he owed her his help in finding a four-year-old boy who was out there somewhere in the grasp of a psychopath. As long as he was alive, innocents were at risk. He owed the world his death, but he couldn't help Abby and her nephew if he were dead. There was no way to die and help her at the same time. Her mention of the song was a brutal reminder of the predator he'd become, making it impossible for him to delude himself that he had a right to be with her, touching her, and accepting her trust.
Abby got out of the SUV.
Jace tensed when he heard her door slam. Instinctively, he reached for the gun he'd shoved in the pocket of his jacket. He turned it toward his chest without removing it from his pocket. If she started to sing to him, he was ending it right there. Right then. Without hesitation. His duty to keep her alive had to trump his duty to help her find her nephew. There was no way he was endangering her.