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My gaze fell to the marking on my collarbone that I’d spent the past thirteen years trying to ignore. It was always there, a brand that called me out and marked me as different. A three-inch, faded, and stretched black ink tattoo of one word: WOLFSBANE.
My chin tilted upward to meet a pair of dark blue eyes on a guy with more muscles than anyone I’d ever seen.
“I was eight years old when an Alpha murdered my mother and pack right in front of me and then pinned me down while some lady tattooed me. I’d never write this on my body.”
“You smell like the home I’ve spent my entire life looking for. That’s why my scent changed when I caught yours. Seeing you and being with you only cemented that you’re it for me.”
“Hurt people hurt people.” It was a line my mom used to explain to her eight-year-old why her father wasn’t around. One I’d learned was a fact when I watched the life drain from my mother’s eyes at the hands of Alpha who’d lost his mind when he lost his mate.
“When the hell did I say you’re not enough for me?” his eyes were narrow, pissed and offended at the same time.
“I’ve lost every person and thing I’ve ever loved. That shit messes with you. Part of me feels like if I admit I could like Roman, I’ll be setting myself up for more heartbreak. The other part of me is just too broken to be in a position to consider taking a mate.”
“Go home.” I went inside. As the door closed, he said, “You’re the only home I want anymore.”
“As soon as you know what it’s like to be an eight-year-old who knows there isn’t a soul alive who loves you, you can call me whatever you want. Until then, get out of my bar and leave me the hell alone.”
“I’m surprised no one told you, but Lilac and Arla chased me down at the nightclub. Spent a couple minutes each telling me all the reasons I’m a terrible person who deserves to rot in hell. It was really pleasant, so I drank in celebration.”
“You want the truth? Fine. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want to mate with you, to spend my life with you, all that romantic shit. I want you to be mine. But I also haven’t known you that long, and I’m terrified that you’re going to change as soon as I’m yours. Or that you’re going to get challenged and lose next week, or next month, or next year. The longer I have with you, the more it’ll hurt when I inevitably lose you.”
I just held my present, staring at it in shock. Two plane tickets to Georgia, leaving toward the end of January. One with my name on it, one blank. The card the tickets had been tucked inside read, You deserve to know what happened to your family. I hope you put my name on the second ticket. -Romeo
