14. Niall Gets Hurt

14

NIALL GETS HURT

Niall choked on his own spit. “H-how did you know that?!”

Jag thumped him lightly on the back. “It’s in his newsletter. I got the email right before I picked you up this morning. Didn’t you see it? He says he’s halfway through the book.”

Niall gaped, opening and closing his mouth. He’d written an email to his readers last night, and scheduled it to go out this morning.

The thing was, he had no idea that Jag had joined his mailing list. He never looked to see who was on it—there were always so many other things he had to do as an author, that he simply didn’t have time.

And now he was scrambling to remember if he’d written anything incriminating in his latest newsletters.

“Well?” Jag raised his eyebrows.

Belatedly, Niall realized he’d missed a question. “Um. What?”

“You didn’t see his email, about the new book.” Jag seemed suspicious.

Crap! “I saw it! I was just—distracted.”

“You didn’t sound excited. With Hardcox being your favorite author, I expected you to be a lot happier about his new book.”

Niall couldn’t stifle his wince. “I’m excited! I just didn’t think you liked his stuff enough to subscribe to his newsletter.”

Jag sighed patiently. “I told you. I bought his books. Been reading them every night. I’m on the third one now. They make me come like a fucking fountain.”

The mental image froze out Niall’s higher brain function.

“I want your fucking fountain inside me,” he blurted.

And promptly clapped his hands over his mouth. Why had his body decided to betray him like this?

Jag’s gaze darkened. “The book he’s working on sounds hot,” he murmured. “Bred By His Alpha Neighbor.”

Oh, gods. Jag thought it was hot. Niall hadn’t been sure if the title had been too much, but—he’d wanted.

And now his face was burning, betraying him too.

“We can read it together, if you want,” Jag said. “When it’s published.”

Niall was sure he’d combust on the spot. A sound came out of his throat, mewling and helpless.

Jag smiled. “You like that? Want to sit on my lap and read it with me?”

“It’s going to turn into a different kind of lap-sitting, isn’t it?”

Jag smiled and drove the truck out of the Wine Shack’s parking lot. “Would you like to have lunch with me? I have crackers. You can take all the time in the world.”

Niall’s mind spun with the abrupt change in subject. All this book talk made him wary; Jag was so close to his secret now. Closer than Niall thought he’d ever get.

What would happen when Jag discovered the book about Konan and Neo? Niall hadn’t even changed their physical descriptions much—it was meant to be a fantasy about Jag and himself, after all.

He fidgeted in his seat, worrying at his mittens with his teeth. Jag reached over the center console to set a heavy palm on Niall’s thigh.

Even though Jag had promised not to think terribly about Niall, Niall was still afraid of losing all this. Jag’s hugs. Jag’s kindness, his willingness to touch Niall without flinching.

He’d seen the looks people gave his shriveled hands. He’d peeked at his scarred gums in the mirror, and shuddered with revulsion. He remembered the look on Evan’s face when he saw the numbers.

He couldn’t imagine how Jag would keep his promise—Jag had to break it, eventually.

When they parked in Jag’s driveway, Niall tried to open the door himself.

Jag squeezed his thigh. “Hey. Let me help.”

“But—”

Jag leaned over the center console, pressing so close that his breath fell on Niall’s skin. Shocked, Niall met his gaze and found that he couldn’t look away.

Is he going to kiss me?

Jag turned his face slightly, brushing his lips against Niall’s cheek. “You’re fine,” Jag murmured. “I like providing for you. I like it when you need me.”

“O-oh,” Niall whispered. “That’s hard to believe.”

How could Jag want all of him? Even with all the things he suspected about Niall?

But Jag pressed a firmer kiss to Niall’s cheek. Deliberately.

Then he turned ever so slightly, their lips almost touching.

Niall stopped breathing.

Jag’s breath mixed with his. Jag’s stubble scraped Niall’s skin, and he pressed a kiss to the corner of Niall’s mouth, so close and yet so far.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart,” Jag murmured. “If you don’t want this.”

He kissed the corner of Niall’s lips again. Niall’s heart pounded.

“Niall,” Jag whispered.

He caught the side of Niall’s face, turning him so their mouths slid together in an explosion of pleasure. Niall whimpered. Jag’s lips were soft, damp, amazing and sinful at the same time. When he pressed himself closer, Jag growled, kissing him again.

And again.

Niall could’ve melted into a puddle of goop. His knees had gone weak, and he couldn’t think about anything else.

He’d never been kissed before. Especially not like this, all gentle and sweet. Well, there’d been the sort-of kiss in the restroom, but that had been a quick, possessive sweep of Jag’s tongue, in and out.

Jag’s kiss now—it was claiming. It spoke of patience and adoration, it spoke of care and desire. Jag kept on kissing Niall through Niall’s clumsy attempts to return it, his parted lips turning the kiss just this shade of dirty.

He flicked the tip of his tongue between Niall’s lips.

Niall jerked back with a stab of panic.

“Crap. Sorry.” Jag leaned away with his pupils dilated, breathing hard. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Niall shook his head quickly. “It’s just me. I—I’m not ready for that.”

“That’s what I meant. We’ll move at your pace. I should’ve been... better about it.” Jag watched him hesitantly, as though he was afraid of making another mistake.

Niall’s skin felt too tight, suddenly. He fumbled with the door. “I should go.”

“Here, let me get the door for you.”

Jag began to climb out from behind the wheel. But Niall didn’t want to remind that strong, capable alpha of everything he couldn’t do.

He fumbled open his door somehow, jabbed his fingers too hard into the seatbelt release, and hissed at the burst of pain.

The seatbelt loosened around him. He leaped off the truck’s rock rail and stumbled across the tall grass of his lawn, wondering what the hell he was doing because he needed Jag to unlock his front door anyway.

Niall tripped over something in the grass. He cried out as his body lurched forward faster than he could catch himself; he threw his arms out to break the fall.

He landed hard on his hands, pain exploding through them—so much pain.

He was crying and gasping before he knew what was going on, pulling his hands close because they just hurt so much.

“Fuck.” Jag crouched next to Niall, gathering him into his arms. “Niall. Sweetheart.”

Niall tried to breathe through the pain. He cradled his hands awkwardly, wondering if he’d broken them for real—they were especially fragile after everything they’d been through.

Jag moved Niall around so Niall was leaning against his strong chest. Carefully, he grasped one of Niall’s wrists, and eased his mitten halfway off.

Blood. There was a lot of it.

Niall’s lungs squeezed; his vision grew dark and spotty. “C-can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Can’t look.”

The blood reminded him of needles, pain, and screaming. Men in stained white coats. The clink of manacles. Terror and despair melting into an endless stretch of time.

Niall shook so hard, he couldn’t control any part of his body. Jag tensed and held him tighter.

“Fuck. Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. I’ll take you to the ER. Everything will be okay.”

“C-can’t think,” Niall wheezed.

Large fingers stroked through his hair. Jag pressed Niall’s face to the crook of his neck, strong arms wrapping around him. “Breathe. C’mon, breathe with me. Deep breath in.” Jag inhaled. Niall copied him. “Let’s hold it. We’ll breathe out on the count of five. One, two, three, four, five. Breathe out.”

Niall exhaled. He followed Jag through multiple sets of breathing exercises, leaning into the rise and fall of Jag’s chest.

“That’s good. You’re doing great. Now, focus on my voice,” Jag murmured, rubbing Niall’s back slowly. “I’m going to take care of you. You’re safe with me.”

Niall nodded, huddling into the comfort of Jag’s body. Jag picked him up and walked.

After a while, he set Niall down, kissing his cheek and temple. “I’m going to buckle you in. I’ll need to drive for a bit to get you to the hospital.”

Niall shuddered. “I don’t like hospitals.”

Jag sighed. “That’s where your medical files are. We’ll need them for your hands.”

Niall whimpered. “H-how’d you know that, anyway?”

“Evan told me in case of an emergency. You don’t have to be scared, alright? I won’t leave your side at all.” Jag kissed Niall’s temple and pulled the seatbelt over him. “Now, I’m going to step away to get around the truck. Keep your eyes closed.” When Niall made a beseeching sound, Jag kissed his jaw. “Listen to my voice. I’ll keep talking.”

Jag counted up from one, his voice fading a little before growing stronger. “Sweetheart, I’m going to close both doors now. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Niall obeyed, cracking his eyes open. He didn’t look at his hands.

The driver’s side door slammed; Niall only jerked slightly. Then Jag leaned over him to shut the passenger door, and Niall jumped again. The engine roared to life.

“Close your eyes. I’ll let you know when we get there.”

“Tell me another story,” Niall begged, almost dizzy with how much he hurt.

“When I was four, I tripped and broke my nose on a tree,” Jag said dryly. “I was playing out in the backyard and tripped on a tree branch. Like the one you just tripped over. Funny enough, I was the one getting into all the scrapes. Troy was a lot better about not getting hurt.”

“Are you still getting into scrapes now?”

“I guess I was. The alphas in prison fight to establish dominance. It’s the only way to get some of the others to leave you alone.”

“Is that how you got to know your friends?”

“Well, I shared a cell with Hades. He’s good people. Storm and Fury were in the cell across from ours. Rex is the odd one out—he’s never been to jail before. He came to Meadowfall because of Olson, and we’re folding him into our brotherhood.”

That was all very enlightening, but it didn’t give Niall the answer to his biggest question.

Of course, the words fell out of his mouth before he could shut up.

“What did you go to jail for?”