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Rebecca’s Wolves(77)

By:Becca Jameson


It hurt. Deep.

She grabbed the shampoo and washed her hair. She applied conditioner next and let it sit while she washed her body.

She stood under the spray until the water grew cold and she was shivering.

Finally, the shower door opened and someone flipped off the water.

Miles.

He didn’t say a word as he led her from the shower and wrapped her shaking body in a towel.

Long clusters of her hair clung to her back as he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He set her on the edge of the bed, dried her as well as he could, and then grabbed the comforter to tuck around her still-shivering body.

She was spent. Exhausted. She didn’t meet his gaze.

She didn’t know when Griffen came in the room, but he sat beside her.

Miles kneeled in front of her. “I’m sorry, love.”

She trembled, tucking her lips under her teeth.

“That was completely uncalled for. Please forgive me.”

She lifted her face a few inches to meet his gaze. “I’m not a child.”

“I know that, love.” His voice was tender.

Griffen stroked her back through the comforter. “I’m sorry too, baby.”

Miles opened his mouth. “I can’t explain the feelings I have for you.” His words were strained. It was hard for him to say this. He set a fist on his chest. “It’s like one minute I was just me. And I was fine that way. Happy. And the next minute, it was no longer me alone. It was you. And Griffen. It was instantaneous. I knew I was in love with you in less than an hour. It shocked me. It still does.”

Griffen’s hand stilled.

Rebecca didn’t think she was breathing.

He continued. “You’re my world. Both of you. And maybe it doesn’t work quite the same for you because you aren’t lupine, but I know you feel at least half of what we feel for you already. It will grow with time.”

It didn’t need to grow. It already was the same thing. That’s why it hurt so much for them to be so angry with her. If she didn’t care, it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t have this pain inside her chest that wouldn’t let up.

She didn’t say any of that because she couldn’t find her voice.

“Rebecca, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. It was uncalled for. I have a temper. I’ll do my best to control it in the future. Can’t promise I won’t fuck up sometimes, but know that I love you at all times, and I’m man enough to apologize when I calm down. I was wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong,” she finally managed. “I should have told you.”

“You should have told us, baby,” Griffen added, “but only because we need to know what we’re up against so we can protect you. When Miles fell in love with you, he was already one day behind me. You’re in our blood, so to speak. It’s a deep, deep bond that can’t be broken.”

She swallowed. She didn’t have more tears. After last night and this morning, she was spent. So, she addressed the unaddressed. “You can’t keep me locked in the house.”

“Not even with the ropes you suggested?” Miles teased.

“Not even. I mean, you can use ropes if you want. I’m not opposed to that, but you can’t use them to keep me inside.”

His chuckle turned into a groan.

Good.

“I have to go to work. I have to run free outside. If you stifle that, you’ll kill me inside.” She held her hand over her chest. “And if you keep me from going anywhere, the bastard wins.”

That was the crux of the problem.

“I hear you, love.” Miles leaned in and closed the distance, setting his forehead against hers. “We’ll work it out. I promise.”

She nodded subtly against him. “You’re wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“My feelings. They’re just as deep as yours. I may be human, but I feel as much love for the two of you as you do for me. Already. I might not have had the exact words to describe it as quickly as you did, but I knew in my heart I belonged to both of you.”

A grin spread across Miles’ face. And then he pounced.

His hands came up under her arms, and he slid her back on the bed to throw his entire weight over her.





Chapter Twenty-Eight


The week started out uneventful. Rebecca held her breath most of the time, always diligent about her surroundings, glancing around her to make sure no one was following her, and then looking at the sky to make sure it wasn’t about to open up and drench her or shake her foundation.

She was convinced the god of weather, if there was such a thing, was toying with her. He or she did not want her to run in that race on Saturday.

She’d never been a superstitious person, but when slammed with that many signs, she had to admit defeat.