Page 48 of Depraved
A week ago, if someone had asked me who Black was—I would have said a monster. I would have said a brute. But since then, he’s saved me from death, comforted me, even included me in his harebrained scheme—and even more than all of that, he’s let me see a different side of him. He handled my Jonah with kid gloves. I can’t bring myself to hate him the way I did at first.
In fact, what I feel for him makes my chest pound, my senses tingle, and it makes me want to run away because I shouldn’t be feeling things like this for him. I gave myself to Jonah. I shouldn’t be feeling camaraderie, comfort, or desire flaring at the base of my spine. Is there something wrong with me that I might want both of them?
Black’s expression softens, and he reaches across the table and grabs my hand, but I pull away. It’s too confusing that comfort settles over me the instant our skin touches. I don’t like the way my body is urging me to walk around this table and slide into the booth next to him so that his arm can wrap around me and make me feel safe and secure.
How can I want two men?
That’s the problem. I do want both—but I’ll surely hurt one of them. I don’t know how I haven’t already. This strange, muddled situation between the three of us can only end in disaster.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I don’t know where that freak-out came from, but I need to deal with that disaster another day. Right now, the pack is threatened, and until Thomas Stone’s dead eyes are staring up at me from the shallow grave where we are going to leave him to rot—my personal issues need to take a back seat.
“There’s a whole lot of agonizing going on over there,” Black’s tone is light and curious.
“Do you think the girl from last night—the one we couldn’t find, Kendra, is working with him?” I ask, upon opening my eyes. I force myself to take a bite of grits and try and act normally.
“Don’t know. He clearly has his own circle of elites, and Buck isn’t part of it … but that motorcycle crowd he runs with—the Night Wolves—are ruthless motherfuckers. So if he knows the girl and is protective of her, I don’t think she’s up to much good at the very least.”
I wash down my food with a glass of milk, forcing my mind and my wolf to focus only on what’s at hand and not Black’s hand, still extended across the table toward me. “Alright, well then, she stays on the list of possibilities. But are we going to chase her down?”
Black shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve been thinking it might be better to go find a blast from his past. Some girl who was around when he returned with all those rings and clearly was a bit less strategic and sensitive about his tendencies.” He pulls out his list and carefully unfolds it, his massive finger skimming over the names on the surface. When his eyes dart up to mine, they flash gold. Hunter mode is activated as he says, “Let’s go find Brittany May.”
13
JONAH
They say misery loves company,but they’re wrong. I’ve been avoiding calls from my parents, avoiding the alphas constantly dropping in and out of Maddox’s massive house, and I even lied to Elena on the phone. I’m miserable. But I don’t want to share the raincloud over my head with anyone else. Because, deep down, I know other people have their own problems and only so much pity per day. They don’t need to waste it on me. Not when I’m not sure I’m a problem that can even be solved.
I stand in Black’s ballroom in nothing but navy workout shorts. I’m covered in sweat after fighting all morning with Pluto, and the towel I swipe across the back of my neck and chest is soaked when I toss it to the wooden floor, though it barely made a difference. New sweat immediately beads on my skin.
I blow out a breath, trying to get my heart rate down. Then I yank out my mouthguard. I down half of the bottle of ice-cold water in my hand, but it doesn’t make me feel satisfied at all. I feel restless. Though my muscles are tired and aching from days of training, I know it’s not clicking.
And I don’t know what to do about it.
Everything still feels up in the air. Everything. My mouse-like wolf used to be as gentle as Bambi. Now? His fur bristles at nearly everything. He’s always on edge. And he constantly sends me aggressive visions. He wants to hunt down Thomas.
Problem is—I know I’m not strong enough for that. Thomas Stone is the alpha’s son, which naturally makes him one of the strongest alphas from the Dark Night pack. And obviously, he’s unhinged. But none of that logic stops the surging hunger inside of me.
Going after him myself is just a death wish. But I can’t seem to stop wishing it.
I’ve become a seesaw. Revenge versus reality. My mind goes up and down repeatedly until I feel sick.
I stare out the twenty-foot-tall windows that Black has in this ridiculous room, where Matthew pushed aside the velvet curtains to give us natural light. I stare without seeing anything more than the shafts of sunlight and specks of dust floating through the air.
If only I was back in the garage with concrete problems to solve. I hate this shit. This over-complicated crap.
I sigh and link my hands together to stretch my back. My spine cracks. Maybe I should call my mom. Last time we talked, she helped me see things differently. But … that was emotional shit.
How do I tell her that I’m worried about my wolf?
“Time to get back to work, pussy,” Pluto throws his nasty, soaked towel at me, and I step out of the way in the nick of time.
I down the rest of my water, knowing he won’t give me a break again for at least an hour.
Then I turn and pad on my bare feet back across the wooden floor to the blue exercise mat he’s stretched across the middle of the room.
Ready to get out of my own damn head, I size him up. I lick my lips as I stare at Pluto. His brown eyes are narrowed, his hair tucked back into a stupid-ass headband. The wrinkles around his eyes seem deeper than ever as he glares at me.
I watch him think and decide on his next move.
