Broken Blood (33 page)

“Is necessary,” I said.

He sighed. “And Cambria? How is she?”

“She’s okay, I guess. I think mostly she’s nervous about tomorrow.”

“Her mom certainly didn’t help things.” I watched while he slid his toe against his heel and slid his boots off.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think in the long run, maybe she did.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, shrugging his jacket off while still managing to keep me firmly planted in his arms.

“Cambria needed to say those things. Her mom needed to hear them. Even if things between them don’t change as a result, it was necessary for Cambria to move forward,” I said.

I turned and let Wes help me out of my own jacket. He set it aside and pulled my feet up, unlacing my boots and pulling them off one by one. “Thanks,” I said.

The lamp light flickered, casting shadows. His expression was soft, full of shadows as he pulled me closer.

“It’s okay to be worried,” I said and he smiled, leaning in until our foreheads touched.

“That’s good. Because I can’t seem to turn it off.” I reached up, running my hand over his face and weaving my fingers into his hair.

A thousand different reassurances were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t bring myself to offer a single one. No matter what happened tomorrow, everything was going to change. One way or another.

“I feel stronger with you beside me,” I said instead.

“I’ve always ...” He trailed off and there was more in his expression than there’d been a moment ago.

“Always what?” I asked, smoothing his hair away.

He hesitated, searching for words, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with emotion. “Falling in love with you has been the single happiest experience in my entire life. I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t beside me in it.”

“Even when being together has made things harder?” I asked. Not because I wasn’t sure but because the lump in my throat was preventing me from agreeing and letting the moment be simple.

“Especially then,” he assured me. “I know it hasn’t been easy, but after everything I’ve been through, everyone I’ve lost, I do know one thing.” His eyes shone with moisture and I couldn’t move or look away from the beauty of the way he stared back at me. There was no sadness when he mentioned having lost people, only gratitude and affection as he spoke about what he had gained. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smiling when he talked about his parents.

“And what is that?” I whispered.

“This is what love is. Suffering together rather than alone.”

Tears fell before I could blink them back. I hadn’t even realized they were brimming until I felt them casting wet tracks down my cheeks. I sniffled and shoved the words out before crying made them impossible. “Love is you, Wes. Love is sitting in your lap and listening to you tell me that we’re stronger together—”

Whatever else I might’ve added was cut short as Wes slid in, pressing my parted lips to his. His mouth was hot and fierce on mine, no gentility, no holding back. His hands slid down my torso and gripped my hips, pulling me off the bench and onto his lap.

I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him as close as we could get through the fabric of our shirts. My skin heated at every contact point, my nerves all bunching and coiling—and having nothing to do with tomorrow’s risk.

Every nightmare, every stress point, every nightmarish memory and anxiety-ridden possibility looming in our uncertain future all dropped away. Wes kissed me like there was no tomorrow—and maybe there wouldn’t be.

Maybe we would only ever have tonight.

My fingers loosened their grip and I explored with my hands, my mouth hot and busy on his. My fingertips felt for the edge of fabric and when I found it, I slid his shirt up and over his hardened abs and broad chest.

Instead of leaning in and assisting my advances, Wes went still. His mouth stopped moving, his hands stopped caressing. The only movement left was his labored breaths against my face where he sat staring at me with wide eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing, I ...” He looked away and when he faced me again, his eyes were shuttered against whatever it was that had gotten to him. He grabbed my hips and lifted me, setting me down beside him. The air around me thickened, like a wall between us.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my cheeks heating. I shoved past the embarrassment. This wasn’t the first time he’d called a halt and I couldn’t figure out the reason behind his rejections.

“Nothing,” he repeated. He scratched his head, tousling his hair. “I’m tired. Tomorrow’s a big day. We should get some sleep.” He stood and went to work turning down the bed covers and arranging the pillows. I watched him with narrowed eyes while I tried—and failed—to suppress the angry outburst building inside me.

“You want to sleep,” I said, my voice flat.

He flinched but kept moving, taking care to fluff the pillows and not look at me.

“What is going on with you?” I stood up and, when he didn’t answer, slid between him and the bed. I snatched the pillow and tossed it behind me. “Talk to me. Why do you keep pulling away?”

“I can’t do this. I just can’t ... do it.”

I blinked extra hard at the emphasis he put on the last word. We both knew what he meant by it. He’d obviously read my willingness—a willingness that had been there on and off for a while now. He’d always been the one to slow things down, but this felt different.

“IS this still about my virtue and not wanting to piss off my mom?” I demanded. “Because I think we’re a little past that. We’re both adults now,” I pointed out.

“I know. It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“I can’t do it letting you think it’s your first time.” The words fell out so quickly I almost missed them.

“What?” I asked, shaking my head in order to better organize each letter in my mind. “That doesn’t make any sense. Of course it’s my first time. I think I would know if—”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said quietly. He sank to the mattress but I hung back, suddenly apprehensive. The only other time he’d spoken like this was that first day ... when he’d erased—

“Wes, what did you do?” I asked.

“Only what you asked. No, demanded,” he said quickly, jumping to his feet again. He threw his hands up in a defensive motion and I hardly blamed him, but I was far past humor. “I swear. I didn’t want to but you made me. And it wasn’t safe before now to even mention it but with Steppe gone and ... after tomorrow, you’ll be in my head. Anyway, I thought you should hear it from me this way before you discovered it in my thoughts somewhere.”

I stared at him, studying his expression. “You’re serious,” I said.

“Deadly.”

“What happened?” I asked warily. “Tell me everything.”

“Will you at least sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

“Fine,” I said and threw myself onto the mattress. “Happy?”

He muttered something, but I let it go. I was too desperate for an explanation to summon the energy to argue with him.

“You’d been missing for weeks already. I was convinced you were still in DC somewhere so I’d rented out that apartment I told you about near the train station so I could spend my days chasing down leads.” He turned away to pace and I watched the way his mouth somehow managed to look pinched even while he talked. Nerves rolled off him, his steps clipped and stiff. This boy was crazy nervous.

“It was the middle of the night. I don’t know what time, two or three I guess. I was in bed. One minute I was sleeping in my empty apartment and the next I was waking up and you were standing over me.”

“I was in your apartment?” I asked, momentarily forgetting all about where this was headed. “How is that possible?”

“I had no idea. Still don’t. But you were there. You were sad, scared, but you didn’t look hurt. You said you didn’t have much time, seemed just as surprised as I was to be standing in my room. We kissed and ... I pulled you into bed.”

He fell silent but I was enthralled, my brain on a fast-track of possibilities. “And then what?” I asked. His cheeks flushed and I waved an impatient hand. “I mean after that. How did I get back? Why would I want to forget it?”

“You got called back or pulled or something. Neither of us really understood it. You were scared of Steppe. You said he would find out what had happened and use it against you or me. Or both. You made me promise to take the memory away so that he couldn’t get in your head.”

“What was I so worried about him finding?” I asked quietly, finally focusing on the event itself. “What happened?” My pulse sped, but I needed him to say it.

His gaze was piercingly sharp on mine, his dark eyes swimming with a mental image I couldn’t conjure. “We made love, Tara.”

My mouth went dry. I nodded, numb all over. Wasn’t a girl supposed to feel differently after something like that? Shouldn’t I have noticed it when I woke?

Before I could think of what to say next, Wes was there. He knelt in front of me on the floor, his hands grazing the outer edges of my thighs. “Please don’t be mad,” he whispered.

“I’m not mad,” I said honestly when the shock began to clear.

“You’re not?” he asked, one brow arched in skepticism. “Because if you are, I understand.”

“You did the right thing. I wouldn’t have wanted Steppe seeing that. He already saw enough and he definitely used it all against me at some point or another.” I shuddered.

Wes exhaled, clearly relieved.

“I’m not mad,” I said again. “But I am disappointed I can’t remember. Can you give it back to me?”

“Yes. I can do that, but...”

“What now?” I asked. “Dear God, how many times have we done it?”

“Just one,” he assured me quickly.

“Then what?”

“I just want you to be prepared. It’s ... a lot.”

“Okay. I’m prepared,” I said, settling in.

He shook his head but didn’t press it. Probably a good thing. I didn’t want to explain that a girl could only be so prepared to experience her first time—for the second time. But I didn’t have to. The look on his face said he knew exactly what I was thinking. This was going to be really interesting when we could hear each other’s every thought.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I did, and shivered when I felt his fingertips run down my arms before his hands settled over mine. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” I murmured.

It was a rushing of emotions, images, and remembered heat. The memory was a slow love song in front of a roaring fire. The experience was the light, the heat, comfort. But underneath it all, I’d been terrified. Lonely, and scared, and terrified.

I shuddered as it all settled, embedding itself once and for all into my consciousness. It had been beautiful, but it had also been desperate. I could see now, as all the old fears came crashing back in, why I’d forced him to erase it.

All in all, I was glad to have it back. It had happened, forgetting wouldn’t change it, but it didn’t diminish the utter fear and desperation I’d carried back to that cell with me that night.

I would never admit it to Wes, but giving myself to him in that way had made me happier than I’d ever been in my whole life—followed by the most profound sadness I’d ever experienced.

“Are you okay? Did it work?” he asked quietly.

“It worked,” I whispered.

I shoved back against the onslaught of tears that threatened and forced my eyes to his. “Thank you,” I said. I leaned over and threw my arms around him, clinging tight. “That was...”

“A lot,” he said again and I relaxed into him.

“Exactly.”

He drew back, his fingertips smoothing my cheeks. He spoke with lowered lashes, uncharacteristically shy. “Tomorrow, when we’re connected, I can let you see it from my side. Let you feel how I felt. I think it’ll help you let go of all that stuff you were feeling after. See it as nothing but a happy moment.”

I tiled my head in surprise. “You knew I was upset?”

“Of course. I don’t need your blood in my veins to read your moods, Tara Godfrey. I’ve always understood you, always been connected to you, no shared DNA required.”

Without warning, the tears sprang up again, this time escaping into tiny wet tracked down my cheeks. “An entire pack with ESP, a dictator determined to destroy my brain, and you know what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, with a single look,” I said.

He caught a tear with his thumb and brushed it away. “I’m glad you’re okay with it. After tomorrow, you won’t be able to escape me.”

“I’ve never wanted to,” I said.

“Well ... except for that one time. But that was definitely me being stupid.”

I laughed. “Please tell me you’re not talking about that night I went to the dance,” I said.

“That could be the one.”

“That was actually one of the best nights we had together,” I pointed out. “Well, after you made me angry and I ran away and almost got killed.”

“Right, after that,” he agreed.

“I stayed the night at your apartment,” I said.

“And if I remember correctly, the high point of the evening looked a lot like this. You and I in bed together. Tears of joy.” I rolled my eyes and he laughed. “Your mother conveniently in the dark that we were sharing mattress space.”

“Good point,” I said. My smile faded as I said, “And just like before, we’re going to end the night with a kiss and go to sleep.”

His smile disappeared too, but there was no disappointment. “Is that so?” he asked, and I could hear the attempt at a joke, but I shook my head.

“Wes, I can’t ... I can’t do this from a place of fear a second time. The memory you gave me, the experience with you, it was beautiful and I don’t regret it for a single second, no matter what. But I don’t want to bring all that fear and desperation into it again. The next time we’re together, I want only us. Only love and joy and gratitude.”

His grin spread slowly, his mouth tipping higher on one side in a mischievous quirk. “So, what you’re saying is tomorrow night works better for you?”

I laughed and threw my arms around him. “Every night forever works for me.”

“So, all I have to do is make you happy every second of every day?” He whistled. “No pressure.”

“Easy,” I agreed and I leaned in with my mouth at his ear. “You already do.”