Jared (River Pack Wolves 3)(18)
This was a bad idea. He couldn’t do this. The unsteady feeling had him nearly tripping on his way, desperate in his need to get back to his clothes, shift human, take her home, walk away, and… come back later tonight and simply end it. Kill the Senator. Go to jail. Stop all of it.
Stop coming apart at the seams.
He heard her paws in the grass, trying to keep up with him. He had worked up to a full sprint without realizing it. He didn’t slow down. When he reached his clothes, he shifted. He clenched his fists to work out the shakes, then struggled at getting his clothes on, keeping his head down as he did.
Grace shifted human next to him, but he didn’t look. Couldn’t look at her anymore. Needed to get away. Get her home then…
She touched his arm.
He jerked back, one leg in his pants, one out, half stumbling.
She pulled back and gathered her hair around her nakedness, caving her body in to cover the parts that spoke to his wolf.
Her voice was a pained whisper. “I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t know.”
It was the soft concern on her face that undid him. The gentleness, the expression full of empathy, echoing feelings he couldn’t hold in his chest without being destroyed by them… she gathered them up and held them in her own, just by being near him. By spending a moment in his thoughts.
He ducked his head. “Not your fault. It’s mine.” It was all his fault, even now. He finished pulling on his pants, roughly tugging them in place. He didn’t look at her. He wanted her to stay away.
She came closer.
He could see her bare feet in the grass.
Then she touched him again, a whisper of softness against his arm. The melting feeling was back, and he couldn’t move, as if liquid cement had trickled through his body and glued him in place. Slowly, very slowly, he raised his gaze to her brilliant blue eyes.
“Why did you really come back?” she asked, softly. Gentle as the breeze kissing the grass and bending the stalks. She searched his face with those eyes, then gave him a bashful smile. “I had this silly hope that maybe you came back for me. That maybe I’d be getting my first kiss from a shifter—”
“You don’t want me as your first for anything.” The cold was seeping back into his bones. Freezing him tight. Sealing up the seams. “I’m a bad man, Grace. I’ve killed people.”
She frowned but didn’t pull away. “You’re military, aren’t you?”
He squinted to see her better, backdropped by the rising moon. Did she know who he was? “Ex-Marine. Sharp-shooter.”
She nodded. “Fighting for your country doesn’t make you bad.”
“Sometimes it does.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
She frowned again, but this time like he was a puzzle. “You came back because you wanted something. What is it?”
He pulled away from her. “You know about your father’s shifter legislation, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Do you understand what it means? What it will do to shifters everywhere?”
She scowled and caved in more on herself, wrapping her arms in front of her chest. “I know it’s bad. I’ve fought him on it. There’s nothing I can do.”
He gritted his teeth and scooped his shirt off the ground. “Fight harder. People’s lives are at risk.”
Her arms dropped to her sides, fists clenched. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’m a shifter, too. You know, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s going to kill everything I’ve worked for.”
He glared at her. “Then stop him.”
“I can’t!” Her lips pouted, and she suddenly looked young to him. Too young to really understand how much would be lost in this.
He stepped back further. “Then we’re done here. Get your clothes.”
She growled and spun around to stomp after her clothes buried in the grass. He watched as she tugged on her silky blouse and narrow skirt. They had ditched her fancy, politician’s daughter shoes before they snuck out of the house. When she was done dressing, she stomped off toward the trees, on her way back to the estate.
He hesitated, but only for a moment, then he jogged after her. The icy chill inside him was stitching him back together again. He should escort her back to the house, return to his perch, and end this thing tonight. But as she picked her way through the brambles, cursing at the branches as they tugged at her clothes, he knew—he wasn’t killing her father. Not tonight. Not until he had done everything he could to win her over.
And he’d done a really shitty job of that so far.
She stopped at the edge of the forest, still out of sight of anyone happening to glance their way from the estate. Only then did he see the tracks of tears glistening on her cheeks. It gave him that loose feeling again, like the world was tipping.