Page 21 of Depraved
Or is itbecausethe question was about Black and not him? Is he disappointed Black marked me? Is our weird little arrangement too complicated? Does he want a marriage of his own?
Jonah comes from the perfect family, the storybook kind where parents get along and grandparents share their wisdom. Where siblings actually end up friends. That’s not what I know.
But I could see how he’d want that.
Fuck.
Does he regret that I bit him and now he can’t have that picket-fence life?
That possibility leaves a gaping wound in my chest. I don’t know what to do. These thoughts just chase me and nip at my heels, even when I throw on my running gear and sprint laps around Black’s property all afternoon, trying to burn up questions like they’re calories.
My wolf whines inside my head, sending me images of Jonah’s wolf bolting from her. She senses the same thing that I do. Something’s wrong and he’s pulling away.
My breath and footfalls are the only steady part of my existence as I run without seeing Black’s manicured lawn or sprawling pool deck, letting my muscles do what they’ve been trained to do. Meanwhile, inside, I’m flailing.
I jog for three hours, stopping only for water or a brief stretch. Matthew comes out once and tries to convince me to go inside and cook with him, but I’m awful at cooking and he knows it. Awful at cooking. Terrible at figuring out what it is Jonah needs.
I’d be a terrible wife.
And even though I’ve dreamed for years about being a nurse, I keep cycling through thoughts ofthat nightand it makes me second-guess what I’ve always wanted—the future I’ve always planned. I wasn’t brave enough; I didn’t do enough—how do I think I could ever be a nurse?
Without that future … what do I have left? Who am I?
Eventually, when the sweat rolls down the backside of my knees and drips like raindrops from my arms, I stop jogging. Because I’m tired and this didn’t work. Instead of clearing my head or helping me come up with solutions, my run only left me more confused and muddled than before … and not just about Jonah. About myself.
I make my way to the front door, ignoring how the house seems to glow in the late afternoon sun. I lock my arms behind my head as I try to cool down, heart tap-dancing rapidly on my bones. I try to erase everything but that sensation from my mind as I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. The pounding of my heart becomes almost soothing. Almost peaceful. Almost the way it was before I shifted, when running was my form of meditation—but not quite.
The front door opens for me and Matthew appears with a smile and a chilled red power drink in a goblet that’s far too fancy for power drinks.
“It’s got electrolytes,” he says, tilting the glass back and forth and rattling the ice inside as if that will make it more tempting. “Not sure if that’s the best for running, but it’s what I have on hand. If you let me know what you like, I’ll order it.”
I take it from him gratefully as I step out of the warm afternoon and into the chill of air conditioning. I’m careful because condensation combined with my sweat makes the glass slick in my hands. “Thanks. This is great.” I down the drink in under ten seconds, smacking my lips as the liquid soothes my throat. If only a heart was as easy to soothe.
“More?”
“Yes, please. But I think I’ll have a shower first. I don’t want to go stink up your kitchen.”
“You, stink? Luna, I don’t think you’ve smelled Alpha Maddox after arm day yet.” Matthew gives me an exaggeratedly horrified look. “I have to turn on the vent fan and open all the windows after he’s had breakfast.”
I chuckle. “You always know how to cheer me up.” His irreverent attitude toward the alpha of our pack is only one of the many things I love about him.
“With age comes wisdom and beauty,” he replies with a casual shrug as he “dusts” his shoulder off.
“Goddess. Adopt me. Please. Can I be related to you?”
“Many wish they were so lucky.” Once the snark fades from his eyes, he gives me a genuine smile. “I’m happy you’re here, Luna.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“It’s what you are.”
“No. It’s what he wants me to be.”
Matthew reaches out and takes the glass from my hands. “You keep telling yourself that. But I saw you lead that mourning song. You’re Luna.” Before I can argue, the bastard has slipped away.
I don’t want to think about the implication of his words, or the way they shoot right to the heart of what I’m struggling with. So I head upstairs.
My shower is too hot, the spray is too hard, and it’s utterly dissatisfying. Or maybe that’s because I’m dissatisfied. Matthew’s stupid luna comment left me rattled and I stopped by Jonah’s bedside only to get the cold shoulder yet again. I want to talk to someone, only the person I want to talk to is either really passed out … or pretending to sleep.
