Page 54 of Ravaged Wolf
His body has stiffened.
I could dodge. Say something like “to talk.” I could be less than fully honest, and he’d never know, and somehow, I could change the subject, and we could bumble on like virtual strangers forever.
But he’s still holding me, even though he’s so tense that the veins on his forearms have popped.
“You’re my mate,” I answer, quietly, staring at the dusting of hair between his pecs to avoid his eyes. “I know it’s probably too late, that we can never—but if there’s a chance—I want what other people have, you know? At least I want totry. I gave up on life for a long time. I don’t want to give up for good.”
Since I’m staring at his pecs, I miss his hand moving, so when he cradles my jaw, I startle. He jerks his hand away, but I’m quicker. I chase his palm down with my cheek andnuzzle him with my face like I’m my wolf. A faint vibration sounds from deep in his chest.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says.
“Is that all you are?” My voice is sharp. I drop my hand. What am I doing? I don’t talk back. Ineverhave an attitude. I have a sense of self-preservation instead. Dad’s wolf would’ve never let me live to adulthood if I sassed him.
I tense. Trevor blows out a deliberate breath and lowers the hand I was nuzzling so he can gently rub slow circles on my lower back. He’s not close enough to my butt that I worry about him touching me there. He’s right at the hollow that aches after a long shift at the infirmary. I blow out a breath, too.
“I’m scared, too.” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “Absolutely terrified, to be honest. I don’t want to fuck this up—more than anything in the world, Ican’tfuck this up—and I have no idea what I’m doing. There’s no manual, no one to ask, even if I could—” He pauses, and I think he’s done, but then he adds, “But I’m also happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
I look him in the eye again. “You don’t look happy.”
“It’s a terrified kind of happiness,” he says, mustering up one of his shy, rueful smiles that makes my stomach dip, but I’m not getting distracted. I’ve got some moxie left, and I’m using it all up.
“You can ask me. Okay?”
Still smiling softly, he dips his head, flashing his bare neck. We’re both quiet for a minute.
He stops rubbing my back so he can trace my middle spine with the tips of his fingers, up and down, up and down.
“I don’t want what other people have,” he finally says, just when I think we’re done talking. “I want you.”
My skin flushes, my heart skips, and since I don’t know what to say back, I whisper, “I have to pee.”
He chuckles like I told a joke, jumps to his feet, and holds out a hand. I take it. He’s careful to keep his eyes on mine as I stand, much less gracefully than he did. I’m sore and stiff. I’ve never slept on the ground before.
His weight slams into my back, knocking me to my knees.
He tackles me to the ground.
My wrist snaps. My face hits the dirt.
My chin cracks on a rock.
“Izzy? Shit. What’s wrong?”
My eyes slowly focus on Trevor’s pinched brow, his frowning mouth.
“I’m cold,” I say. “I want to go home.” It’s close enough to the truth.
I don’t want to tell him that I remembered and every drop of hope that collected during our conversation drained away in the blink of an eye, and I’m afraid of him again.
That when I say home, I mean my windowless room with blank eggshell walls.
That I’m broken and a coward and this is never, ever going to work.
Instead, as he leads the way out of our hidey-hole, I grab his hand. He startles, but he squeezes me tight right away, and I don’t let go all the way back to Old Den.
I make a decision. I hold on. Even scared and hopeless, I don’t let go.
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