Page 75 of What a Wolf Demands

The wistfulness in his voice was going to break her heart. She thought of her parents. She’d known they were nearing the end of their lives. Even so, she’d been stunned when they died—as though some part of her believed it would never actually happen. “There’s never enough time,” she said quietly. “Not when you love someone.”

His chest lifted as he drew in a deep breath. He looked at her, and the naked pain in his eyes took her breath away. “She was twenty when . . .” He lowered his gaze to a spot between their seats. “It was the stupidest thing. A one-car accident on a quiet road.”

Lily held her breath.

“She lost control, hit some trees.” He tapped the side of his head. “She called out to me. Remy and I got there as fast as we could, but she’d lost so much blood.”

He was right to call it a stupid thing. Werewolves didn’t die in car accidents. They didn’t typically die of blood loss, like Charlie had.

She released the breath she’d been holding. So much of this “hunt” he’d undertaken must have reminded him of the female he’d loved. There was her red hair and the freak nature of the accident that had claimed a life too soon.

Even their little spat over the seat belt made more sense now.

Everything made more sense now.

He looked at his thigh, where he’d rested his hand palm down. “She couldn’t talk when we reached her, but she could still transmit telepathically. I asked her to join with me in the lux catena.”

Lily’s lips parted on a quiet gasp. “But that would have meant . . .”

He met her eyes. “Yes. I would have died with her.” He raised his hand, then tilted it so it caught the light reflected through the windshield. “We said our vows in each other’s minds, and then I mingled my blood with hers. I cut my hand to the bone.”

Oh, Dom. Lily pressed her lips together, tears burning her throat.

“It wasn’t enough,” he said. “It wasn’t a bite.” He stared at the scar on the back of his hand. “She’d always been very careful not to bite me when . . . we were together. She wanted to honor our families—to wait for a big wedding. She got a funeral instead.”

Tears fell down Lily’s cheeks. It was too much. Her chest felt so heavy that drawing breath was like pushing against a heavy weight.

Dom lowered his hand, then found her gaze across the seats. “So you see, Lily. I know what it means to lose.”

She couldn’t reply. She could barely see him through her tears.

So much senseless death.

The scent of leather and pine enveloped her, and then his big warm hands were cupping her cheeks, his thumbs catching her tears as they trickled from the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was crying for him or her parents or Bart.

Maybe she was crying for all of them.

He spoke into the quiet, his voice low in what had become a sacred space. “I made a vow six years ago, on the day of the accident. I swore I’d never touch another. I vowed to die alone.”

An ache shot across her heart, and she tried to lower her head in his hands.

He didn’t let her. “Look at me, Lily.” Gently, he forced her chin back up. He wiped more tears from her cheeks. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“You can.” His touch featherlight, he brushed his thumbs over her closed lids. “Look at me, Lily.”

She opened her eyes. “I made you break your vow. And I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not,” he whispered back. “It was long past time for it to be broken.”

Her breath hitched. Even if he hadn’t been holding her still, she wouldn’t have been able to look away.

“Everything dies, sweetheart,” he said, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “Some things sooner than others. Some things before we’re ready.” He rubbed his thumbs under her eyes, taking her tears as he went. “We can do two things. We can give up and hope to die, too. Or we can look death in the eye and say not yet.”

She lifted a trembling hand and laid it against his cheek, covering the tear that had tracked down his face.

He put his hand over hers. “I realized something in that basement. For too long, I haven’t really been living. I’ve just been waiting to die.”

---