Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
I want to be better for Dove. The best version of myself. And whatever the hell this magnetic pull toward her stepbrother is… It’s not helping.
“You’re thinking too loud.” She taps my forehead with a wet finger.
“I want to ask you something. A few things.”
“Ask.” Her legs tense around me, her voice calm, but not casual. Never casual.
“I want to understand you.” I ease my head back to look at her.
“Which part?” Her chin lifts, guarded.
“All of it. Everything. But first and foremost, how are you? Be sincere. Really. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” At my arched brow, she sighs. “Okay, I’m… Tired. Jumpy. Half-hopeful, which I hate. Half-terrified, which is normal.”
“Why are you scared?”
“Because I feel safe. That scares the hell out of me. Safety has never lasted in my life. It usually comes right before something terrible.” She chews on her cheek. “I feel like I’m learning how to breathe again. It hurts. Everything hurts. But you make it hurt less.”
“What else?”
“You make me hungry in ways I don’t understand. I’m confused. And overwhelmed. My past sits in my bones like pockmarks. But I’m here. With you. Which means something I can’t name yet.” She releases a thready breath. “That’s the truth.”
Her honesty knocks the wind out of me. I want to wrap her up, hide her from the world, and swear on my life she’ll never have to brace for pain again. But I know better. She doesn’t need a cage. She needs a place to land.
“Thank you for telling me.” I graze my lips along her cheek. “I don’t want the easy Dove. I want the real one. The messy, uncertain one. The one who’s still figuring things out.” I rest my mouth on her temple. “For the record, I’m not going anywhere. So feel whatever you need to feel. I’m right here.”
“I know, and I can’t express how grateful I am for you.” She cups my cheek, her exhale teasing my lips. “My turn to ask something.”
“Fire away.”
“What’s the quality you admire the most in the person you like the least?”
“The people I like the least are dead.”
“Someone alive.”
Well, that narrows it down. The contact list on my phone is a short one, and most of them are Strakh employees. But there’s one name missing, and he pisses me off in a way that feels… Annoyingly, dangerously satisfying.
Fucking Jag.
I know what I admire the most about him, but the moment I say it, she’ll see right through me.
Except this is what I wanted. Talking. Honesty. No secrets between us. She gave me her truth, and now I owe her mine.
“Okay. Here’s what I admire… His loyalty and sense of duty, even knowing how deeply he’s twisted those qualities into obsession. He won’t stop. Never. He’ll burn the world for his obsession and destroy himself in the process.”
She looks away, knowing exactly who I’m talking about. “His sense of duty kept me alive all these years, but it’s also the very thing that ruined me.”
“You’re not ruined.”
“My scars…” She coasts a hand down my damaged chest. “They live beneath the surface, unseen.”
“We need to talk about him, darling. Tell me how he hurt you.”
“I knew this was coming.”
“He’s in your head, in your choices, and the reason you jump when you hear footsteps behind you.”
“He’s my past.”
“And your future. Whether you like it or not, he’s not going away. The question is… Do I fit there with him? Or am I just a place to hide for a while?”
“Wolf…” She licks her lips, eyes dropping to my throat before lifting again. “I’ve been surviving for so long that even thinking about the future feels like picking a lock in the dark.”
“That’s fine. I’ll sit in the dark with you. But I need to know what you feel for him. I need the honest answer, the one you don’t want to give me.”
“Okay. Jag was…” She holds out her hand, ticking the list off on her fingers. “My guardian. My superhero. My protector. My only family. My prison.” She lowers her arm. “But he’s not mine. Not anymore.”
“What do you feel for me?”
“I feel…” Her breath leaves her in a quiet rush. “Like I’m choosing something for myself for the first time.”
“You choose me?” I grip her hips.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she tightens her legs around my waist. “I choose you.”
“I’m never letting you go.” The warmth hits so hard it’s painful. “Not a chance.”
“You say that like I’m planning an escape.”
“Are you?”
“Depends.” She drags her nails down my neck. “Are you a religious man, Wolfson Strakh?”
“I tried.”
“You tried to be religious?”
“There was a time when all I wanted was to have a friend in Jesus. But when I needed him most, when I needed to feel seen, to feel love, the Only Begotten Son had forgotten this son. And that book his devoted followers love to quote? It cheers on incest, shames anything queer, treats women like property, and sucks the balls of the patriarchy. Also, God isn’t real.” I shrug. “So yeah. I’m your friendly, neighborhood heathen. Still want me?”