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)
Jaguar-gold and hellfire-red melt into a metallic amber gaze that watches me carefully, warning and burning with every reason I should scream.
And every reason I don’t.
Jag lowers his uninjured hand from my lips and ducks his head, leaning in, bending close. His cold nose grazes my neck, inhaling deeply before moving my hair.
Then he straightens and gives me an unfathomable look.
A chill runs through me. Fear, yes. But something else. “What?”
“You smell different when you’re awake.”
“You’ve been watching me sleep?”
“Since you were a child.”
“That’s—”
“Sick? Yeah. I’m fucking sick, Little Bird.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Alarm bells ring in my head.
His brown hair sticks up in wild, frantic angles that only comes from raking a hand through it over and over. His rumpled jeans show stains on one leg and rips on the other, and he probably grabbed that wrinkled shirt off a floor. Or slept in it. If he’s sleeping at all.
Shadows darken his eyes. His face is drawn tight. His jaw locks so violently it ticks, and his chest rises hard and shallow. Did he run here?
His wrist is swollen along the ridge of bone, the skin mottled in sick yellows. No brace or bandages. Nothing to help it heal.
He’s not taking care of himself.
This isn’t the cocky, shameless, sex-drunk Jag who thrives on getting a rise out of me. Nor is this the version who manipulates, taunts, and stalks his prey with practiced bedroom eyes.
This one is… Wrong.
He looks hollow, unsteady, frayed at every edge.
Something is very wrong.
“What happened to you?” I whisper. “Why are you here? How did you even get on the island?”
He closes his eyes like the questions hurt.
“Jag.” I gnash my teeth. “What do you want?”
“I had to see you.” He looks at me now, his eyes darker, sunken, haunted. “Before I go.”
“Go where?”
“I’m leaving Sitka.”
“You’re running again? Who’s hunting you?”
His jaw flexes, a single angry clench.
“Why didn’t you leave a rock at the goddamn grave like you always do?”
Drawing a slow breath through his nose, he removes something from his pocket and presses it into my palm.
Another rock.
I look at it, at the black letters written across the surface.
Ends Here
My heart scrapes against my ribs.
“This is the last time you’ll see me, Dove.” He grips my fingers, his hand shaking against mine.
Jag never shakes.
“What the hell does that mean?” Icy dread crawls over my scalp. “You can’t just… Jag, you don’t get to show up in the middle of the night with your non-answers, and— And this.” I shove the rock against his chest. “Explain it.”
“I’m not answering your questions.” His expression hardens as the rock falls to the floor. “I can’t.”
Blood thrashes in my ears. I want to scream, but Wolf is upstairs, and I need to sort this out before he wakes.
“Why now? Why tonight?” I force my anger into a whisper. A harsh, seething growl. “After stalking me for years and killing everyone I know? Why are you doing this?”
“I should’ve done this a long time ago.” His features twist with a deep, private agony.
“Done what?”
“Let you go. I tried with Gavin, thinking he could keep you safe and give you what I couldn’t. But I was wrong about him, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I don’t understand.” My chest hurts.
“You’re safe now. Safer than you’ve ever been. You have Wolf and his resources—”
“Safe from what? Tell me, goddammit.” I grip his forearm, digging my fingers into muscle. “What do I need protection from?”
“Me.”
“Why?”
“You needed a mother, and all you had was me. An angry kid. A horny teenage boy who didn’t know how to raise you. Didn’t know how to love you without… Damaging you.”
“I needed you. Just you, Jag.” Tears burn the backs of my eyes.
Why am I crying? Why do I even care? I need to step aside and shove him out the door. But I can’t. For the same reason I couldn’t shoot him after I fled my wedding.
Before he was cruel, he was my protector. Before he broke my heart, he was my everything. The terrible things he did to keep me fed, the sacrifices he made to keep me safe, the darkness he became to keep me alive, it killed the beautiful boy he was and turned him into something I no longer recognize.
But as I stare into his hooded eyes, all I see is that strong, determined, selfless boy who fought like hell to give me a better life.
He hates the tears. The instant they hit my cheeks, his expression crumples. He crowds in, taking my face in his hands and touching me like I’m sacred. Touching me like he used to touch me.
“Don’t.” His thumbs brush my cheeks, too gentle, too crushing. “Don’t cry.”
“You’re leaving me. Leaving without telling me where you’re going or why. No explanation. No answers.”
Emotions surge between us, raw and old and impossible to untangle. His hands mold around my neck, supporting, consoling as he runs his nose along mine.