Page 64 of The Delta's Rogue
I growl, lip curling, and I duck as Wes takes a preemptive, defensive swing at me. My fist connects with his stomach. He grunts but recovers quickly, and I spin away from him.
We continue our dance of fists, each taking as many hits as we’re giving, with matching frowns on our brows and matching growls in our throats.
But in the depths of his eyes, I see it. The concern. The solidarity. The understanding. The ghost of pain.
That realization gives me pause.
My hesitation costs me, and Wesley clocks me square in the jaw. The punch knocks my head back and slams my teeth together. I stumble backwards, hand flying to my jaw without a thought, massaging it to ease the pain. It comes away bloody, and I stare at the red on my fingertips.
The red that matches the choker I tied around Sarina’s neck. The red that matches the small rectangle of fabric from her dress that I use as a bookmark.
I snarl, slowly lift my eyes to Wesley, and launch myself at him, fists flying. I attack him once more with renewed vigor, my fighting now wild and unruly, almost all my training going out the window.
But Wes doesn’t falter. “I know you have more than that!” he goads, dodging and ducking and blocking my unwieldy blows.
He grabs my shirt’s collar. Grunting, I twist out of his hold and shove him.
“That can’t possibly be everything you can give me, Seb!”
I shove him again and again, harder and harder, right in the center of his chest. Each hit backs him up closer to the edge of the clearing and the trees circling it.
If I can just get him close enough… If I can get him pinned against one…
My eyes flick behind him, and I realize my mistake too late. The split second costs me, and he rushes by me, taking off for the opposite side of the clearing.
But I’m not having that. Fuck no.
I leap towards him and wrap my arms around his neck and head, grabbing him in a chokehold and squeezing.
Where most would struggle, Wes holds still, widening his stance and grounding himself. He clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together. His neck strains, and he grabs my forearm. A noise begins deep in his throat. It builds in intensity and volume until it’s a full-blown roar, and I’m somersaulting over his shoulder, launched from behind him and slammed into the ground in front of him.
The wind knocks out of me—I think my heart, lungs, and stomach leave my body too. I lie on the ground, blinking up at the night sky, unsure if the stars twinkling above me are celestial balls of gas in the darkened nighttime sky or a hallucination from the impact with the ground.
The noise I make as I finally inhale is embarrassing—a mix between a gasp, a cough, a laugh, and a sob. I lift my hand and wave it back and forth as if it’s a white flag, hoping Wes will read it as my surrender.
He plops down next to me, elbows on his knees and shoulders heaving as he catches his breath. His hair is a mess. His slacks and shirt are stained and torn, and dirt and sweat cover his face. But he sits there with me, glancing at me from the corner of his eye to make sure I’m okay.
I prop myself up, brush dirt and pine needles from my hair and clothes, and take deep, even breaths. I mimic his posture—arms around my knees—and sigh as I duck my chin to my chest.
“Good fight.” He bumps me with his shoulder and musses up my hair. “Maybe you’ll get me next time.”
I lift my eyes to his. He’s smiling—laughing—but etched in his eyes is that pain, that understanding. His words and actions… All of it is an echo, a mirror of that day sixteen years ago—the day I raced him as we waited for word about Haven, pushing him to run faster, to use the pain in his muscles and lungs to block his anxiety and fear.
I laugh too. I can’t help it. The sound falls from my lips, and in the same breath, my laugh turns to a sob. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes to hide the tears forming there. My body quakes with the mixture of tears and laughter.
“I failed her.” My voice is so hoarse and thick with tears that I’m not sure he can hear me.
“You didn’t.” He grips my heaving shoulder. “You didn’t fail her any more than I failed Haven.” He swallows, and his hand on me tightens. “It’s taken longer than I should admit for me to realize that.”
My hands drop from my face, and I stare at him through blurry, water-logged eyes. He stares back, a frown marring his forehead. I wait for the questions, the interrogation, for him to pry for answers and find out exactly what happened between Sarina and me so he can understand my crazed outburst against Dominic.
But all he says is, “I’m sorry, Sebastian.”
My throat aches with a fresh wave of sorrow, and I clench my teeth to push it down. “I promised her, Wes. I promised her I would find her.”
He holds my gaze, determination shining in his brown eyes. He stands from the forest floor, reaching for my hand to bring me to my feet with him. “Then let’s make sure you keep your promise.”
“Well? Is she avirgin?” Amara stands with her arms crossed. Her foot taps impatiently on the floor, and her eyes bore into Brenna’s head.
