Page 49 of The Broken Wolf's Redemption

Now that she could see the fresh anguish on Rome’s face, she paused. Nothing was worth hurting him, even if he might deserve it. Even if the wolf in her cried out for justice, the heart that she and the wolf both shared aching.

It didn’t seem possible that Rome would be able to show his anguish and his desire at the same time. His face was flushed, and his eyes pleaded with her. He was being torn apart.

It was a bad time for him to grow a conscience.

Seren didn’t know what to say. She was naked and starting to feel it, with Rome fully clothed and looking like he was going to war with himself right in front of her. She thought she knew how broken he was, but in reality, she didn’t have any concept. She couldn’t, not having reached those same depths herself. She only knew what it was to be played false by someone you trusted, to fall out of love with someone you’d sworn to always love, to have them turn their back on you and choose another. She knew what it was to give up everything that anyone said would make a person happy and choose the harder, narrower road, despite all the scorn and criticism and doubt.

She didn’t know true loss. Not the way Rome knew it.

Her hand moved before she could stop it. Her palm rested flat on Rome’s chest right above his heart. She felt the dampness in the worn thin fabric and realized how much he was sweating.

“Rome?”

“I lost her.” Anguish. Pure, horrible anguish. He was there with her in the room, even if he was back in the past. “I lost her and there will never be another. That’s what was taken.”

“I thought it was something like that. Waverly’s mother.”

“Yes. We weren’t officially mates. She wanted to be, and I denied her. I knew my parents would never accept her. I never gave a fuck about pleasing anyone, but I couldn’t leave my pack. She left. For years. When she came back, she was a different person, a part of a group of Rangers. I’ll never know even a portion of what her life was like while we were apart, but I had no claim on her. She had Waverly, though I had no idea. Not when we met again. Not when she died. I wasn’t aware until I got that call from Lila’s lawyer.” He winced, as though saying her name made her real.

She’d wanted him to tell her this. It didn’t matter that it was a bad time. “It’s not your fault. What happened to her.”

“Fault,” he scoffed. “Fault is ridiculous. She made her choices, and I made mine. We always loved each other, even after all those years. It was against the Ranger code. According to their laws, she could be put to death for having any loyalties outside of them.” He laughed bitterly. Her hand still pressed into this chest. How could someone living a life of death be so warm and real? “They killed her and I killed them, and as a result, I was banished. It was the only option if my pack wanted to avoid war. They nearly got it anyway. One man in that group had ties to a pack in the south. My sisters paid the price for what I did. It was only through luck and extreme dedication and sacrifice on their part that they found love and safety with the mates they took to ensure peace. In a way, the deaths that I’m responsible for all directly relate back to the very first day I met Lila.”

“Is that why you’re afraid?”

“Of what?” He glowered at her. “I’m not afraid. Fear isn’t it at all.”

“Is that why you never want another mate?”

“We were never mated.”

“But you did love her. Maybe in your pack it wasn’t technically being mated, but in the human world, loving someone and dedicating years of your life to that love is pretty much about the strongest bond you can get. But there are mates and then there are mates. One involves ceremony, the other, I’m not sure you get a choice over.”

“I don’t believe in being fated like that.”

“I’m not sure I do either, but I think it happens to some people. It’s decided before two people ever meet and all the events after just lead them to that path and let them walk down it.”

He blinked at her, his eyes glazing over. He was going back to whatever place he liked to dwell. She doubted it was safe inside, but it was known and there was some comfort in that.

“Rome? Can I get dressed?”

His hand closed over hers. He grasped her fingers a little too hard, but it wasn’t real pain and he didn’t tear her palm away. She couldn’t begin to fathom the pain and torment he’d had to come back from. Even just stepping back from that ledge would have been torture. She didn’t pity him and that didn’t make him forcing her with that contract right or forgivable or justifiable, but she did maybe understand why taking seemed to be the only option to him. It made sense now, the progression of events.

They’d met through tattooing. There was some level of attraction for him. He saw her, he wanted her, he didn’t want to want her. He thought that having her could be the end of it. He didn’t want another mate. He couldn’t afford to allow himself to feel again, not when it had all gone so very wrong the first time. Love had been worse than any kind of hell for him. It meant death for him. Agony. Anguish. Who needed to worry about damnation when the flames of life were so potent and terrible?

“No. You may not get dressed.”

She closed her eyes, cursing herself for having asked his permission. She should have just done it. What happened to her controlling the moment?

She snatched her hand back and curled it into a fist. “I’m sorry that all those things happened to you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

She popped her knuckles into her mouth and bit down. “Okay.” The silent pause was nearly crushing. “I’m going to get dressed.” She got off the desk. Rome didn’t back up, so she brushed past him, the contact surging through her.

Of course he turned to watch her do it. She scooped her skirt off the floor and got that on first, covering herself before she put the rest back on. She stared at Rome’s mouth, unable to meet his eyes. He had a beautiful mouth, really. It would be so much prettier if he used it to truly smile or laugh, not those sneers or cruel grins or bark out laughter that was never a happy sound.

His mouth reminded her of the kiss they’d shared. Brief and scorching. The memory was burned into her lips and brain. Rome had shocked her with that kiss, more because it was good, than anything else. She wanted to take his shoulders and drag his face back down to hers again. Suck his bottom lip into her mouth and ply it with her teeth as an invitation to bite her. She wanted to take him into her body. Even though she’d never had the urge to be intimate with anyone since she’d been cheated on, she wanted it with him.

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