Chapter 28
+25 Points
Jake sat in his office, the room dim except for the lamp on his desk. A half–empty glass of bourbon rested in his hand, the bottle within arm’s reach. He hadn’t bothered turning on the overhead light. Darkness suited his mood.
He’d lost control… again. The memory of blood on Lyra’s lips, the bruises on her wrists, made his jaw clench. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He hadn’t even realized his fangs had come out until he saw the look on her face. Not fear. Not pain. Just… resignation. Like she expected it. Like being hurt was normal.
He tossed back the rest of the bourbon. The burn was a poor substitute for the guilt twisting in his gut.
The door creaked open without a knock.
Jake didn’t look up. “Unless the pack is on fire, come back later.”
“Nope,” Callan said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.
Jake exhaled sharply through his nose but said nothing. He poured another glass.
Callan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Lyra came to see Megan.”
Jake jerked his head up, eyes locking on his beta.
“Care to explain why she was bruised and bleeding when she walked into my wing?”
“No,” Jake said flatly.
“You bit her. Pinned her wrists.”
“It wasn’t intentional.” Jake stared into his glass, refusing to meet Callan’s eyes.
“She tried to explain it away like it was no big deal. Like it was just an accident.” Callan scoffed. “That shouldn’t be happening.”
Jake downed the drink. “I know.”
Callan pushed off the wall. “Do you? Because that’s the second time today you’ve nearly shifted out of rage. Both times she took the brunt of it. That’s not normal.”
“I said I know!” Jake stood abruptly, slamming the glass on the desk. It didn’t shatter, but the sound cracked through the room. “I didn’t mean to touch her like that. I didn’t mean for her father to see. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
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“But it did,” Callan snapped. “You’re supposed to protect her. Not scare the hell out of everyone around her.”
Jake looked away, chest heaving.
+25 Points
“What happened before you went to see her?” Callan asked, lowering onto the couch and rubbing his forehead.
“My dad wanted to meet with me. Your dad was there too. They said some things.” Jake shook his head.
“About Lyra? Her mother?”
Jake turned to him. “What do you know about her mother?”
“Just what Lyra told me.” Callan shrugged.
“What did she say?”
Callan’s expression darkened. “More than I expected. If even half of it’s true, she needs help. Not more wounds.”
Jake sat down again, staring at the wood grain of his desk, tracing the pattern with one finger. Then he told Callan what Christian and Drew had said.
When he finished, Callan flexed his fingers, rolling his lower lip between his teeth.
“So Mary Hart wasn’t human, and we have no idea what she was. Lyle, your dad, and my
dad knew something. Lyle can’t talk. And the other two are trying to push Lyra out, while you’re running around like a feral pup with no control.”
There was a long pause.
“Basically,” Jake sighed.
“Is this pack even safe for her?”
The question hit a nerve. Jake squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about it.
“I can’t lose her,” he whispered.
“Then do something.”
Jake opened his eyes and looked at his best friend. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You start by acting like the Alpha vou’re cunn
to ha Than
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< Chapter 28
Jake looked down at his empty glass. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder,” Callan said, and walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.
Lyra couldn’t sleep. She’d come home and ignored her dad and Donovan, retreating straight to the shower. Afterward, she inspected the marks again. They were healing slowly. Werewolves healed faster than most supernaturals, but Juno was weak. That meant Lyra’s healing was always slower than it should’ve been. She hoped the bruises would be better by morning.
Now she tossed in bed, replaying everything that had happened. Callan and Megan had helped her hide the journals. She’d need to show Donovan where they were, though she knew he wouldn’t like it. But there hadn’t been a choice. Callan’s idea had been smart.
A soft knocking sound broke her thoughts.
She sat up, listening. There it was again. A quiet tap, tap, tap.
She crossed the room and pulled back the curtain. Jake stood outside, bathed in moonlight. She unlocked the window and leaned against the sill.
“Can I come in?” he asked softly.
“Ever heard of a door?” she asked, raising a brow.
“I used it earlier. Didn’t go so well.” He exhaled. “Your dad’s probably ready to murder me.”
She nodded. “He is.”
“I just want to talk. Please. If you don’t want me in there, will you come out?”
She sighed and pushed up the screen. He clambered through awkwardly, landing on the floor with a grunt.
“Need to brush up on your sneaking–into–a–girl’s–room skills,” Lyra said.
“Haven’t needed them in a long time,” he replied, straightening up.
He reached for her but stopped short, pulling his hand back like it burned. His expression was tight with guilt.
“Can I see you?” he asked.
She gave a small laugh. “I’m right here.”
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He shook his head. “In the light. Can I turn on your lamp for a second?”
She frowned. “Why?”
“I need to see what I did,” he said softly.
425 Points
“Jake, don’t.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It won’t help. I know you were upset. Your wolf was trying to shift. You didn’t even realize…”
“Stop.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just stop, Lyra. Don’t make excuses for me. I was wrong. I hurt you. You don’t have to excuse what I did. It wasn’t okay.”
Lyra dropped her arms, uncertain. Slowly, she crossed to the bedside and turned on the lamp.
Jake knelt in front of her, his thumb brushing over her lip, down her throat. He gently took her hands and turned them over, examining the bruises on her wrists. His hands trembled as he touched them.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “All I could think about was getting to you. I didn’t realize how out of control I was. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve calmed down first.” He pressed his face into her lap. “I’m so sorry.”
Lyra ran her fingers through his hair. “What happened? What made you so upset?”
He told her about the meeting with his father and Drew, and what they’d said. She chewed her lip as she listened.
When he finished, he looked up at her. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Lyra cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over the rough stubble. “I wasn’t scared of you.” She traced his cheekbone gently.
“I don’t care,” he murmured. “It was still wrong. I never want to be the reason you’re hurt.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He surged up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “This is what it should feel like,” he whispered before kissing her again.
He gently guided her back onto the bed, covering her face in featherlight kisses. He moved to her throat, kissing over each mark with reverent care.
Finally, he settled beside her, drawing her into his arms and holding her close.
“I’ll never do that again,” he murmured against her hair. “From now on, I’ll only protect you. Always.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
