49. Shay

FORTY-NINE

Shay

D irge's eyes burned with unfettered devotion, and the sight of it nearly clogged my throat. But I had to finish this awful tale, get it over with so he could make an informed decision about who I was, the terrible things I'd done.

I was a murderer. A cold-blooded killer in a feminine package. And part of me was screaming not to tell him, not to let him see this darkest sliver of my soul, but how could I not? How could I let him complete a bond with me without full disclosure? I couldn't. It was bad enough it had gone this far. I pushed on with the tale, though everything inside me was screaming that he was going to run, to leave me and never speak to me again.

"They came at night. For the first few nights, I just squinched my eyes closed and prayed they didn't come to my mattress. It was terrible, and we all cried. Endless tears." I closed my eyes as if it wasn't real if I didn't let the outside world in. "But on the fourth night, a man came. I felt the edge of the mattress dip, and I froze. Even the tears wouldn't keep coming."

Dirge tensed underneath me, and I could smell his rage as his scent turned acrid and bitter. I rested a hand on his bicep to calm him, even as the words poured out of me faster and faster.

"When he grabbed my ankle, something inside me just… snapped. One minute, I was a terrified little girl. The next, my body burned, everything hurt, and people were screaming. Somehow, I had fangs and claws, and I was tearing him to shreds. Another man ran in when he heard him screaming and tried to stop me. But my wolf… She tore him up too. The other girls were screaming, there was blood everywhere… but thankfully, the second man left the door open."

I swallowed hard. The memory of that waiting sliver of moonlight—that ultimate freedom at a time when I was so desperate—was something I would never forget.

"We all ran. More men came and tried to stop us, but I tore every single one of them apart. They shot me four times. She didn't stop, though. We killed every last man."

I ducked my face against his chest, the steady thrum of his heart comforting me now, while he was processing. I knew the jig was up. Even among shifters, such bloodthirsty destruction wasn't okay. Feral wolves who killed humans were put down, no exceptions. He was going to stand up and leave me here any second, but I'd take this last crumb of connection and hold it tightly, even if it was all I had left.

His hands came up to cup the backs of my arms, and I braced myself for him to shove me away. But he didn't. He skimmed my arms, up my throat, to cup my jaw. Gently, he urged me to look at him. I was so afraid of his judgment, I wanted to resist, but a part of me knew I needed the closure.

But when our gazes clashed, mine terrified and his stormy, he still didn't let me go.

"Good."

The word shocked me to my core.

"What?" I spluttered. "I murdered more than twelve men that night. How can you say good ? "

"Those sons of bitches deserved it. Don't you see? They were kidnapping and sex trafficking children . You were eleven, Shay. That was self-defense if ever I heard it. And you saved all those other girls."

I sat in his lap, too stunned to argue.

That night had been my greatest shame, my recurring nightmare, for fifteen years. I'd never shared the truth of my background with another soul, for the horror. But… good?

He must have seen the disagreement written on my face, because he let out a frustrated growl. "Shay, I know it was traumatic. And you've got the right to remember it however you want. But put the Shay of today on the outside of that situation. I know it's hard. But let's say there was a trafficking ring nearby, and we went to bust it. Would you feel sorry for the motherfuckers hurting little girls? Or would you let your wolf loose and tear them limb from limb?"

"I—" My mouth went dry as my wolf snarled, pushing forward against my control, even as exhausted as she was. "I'd rip their throats out, every last one." The answer shocked me.

I'd never stepped back and analyzed my trauma, not from an adult perspective. I'd been holding on to it as a scared little girl, too afraid to let anyone know what she'd been through or what she'd done.

But maybe… maybe it was time to give her a break. Younger me was a survivor, and that wasn't something to be ashamed of. Though, I wasn't sure I was ready to let it all go. Some part of me… some part of me still felt the stain of those nights. The gore splattered in my fur, dry and crusty and stinking for over a week until I found a stream and finally got brave enough to plunge myself in it. Thinking myself some kind of monster, before I'd known my wolf was part of me. That I wasn't crazy.

"There's my girl." He smiled down at me with pride. "Those fuckers don't deserve another second of your time. You hear me? They got off easy. If you hadn't taken them out, I sure as fuck would've, and it wouldn't have been fast."

He meant it too. My pulse was pounding as I looked up at him, held him. He wasn't going to leave me.

"But the shifter here. How does he fit into the story?" he asked softly. He stroked both sides of my neck with his thumbs very distractingly.

"Oh," I murmured, letting my gaze drop back down to his chest. "That's Brand. He's… he's the one who found me after."

Dirge went still again, listening intently.

"I didn't understand what had happened to me, not for a while. I didn't know what a shifter was, let alone that I was one. I thought I'd gone crazy or was some sort of mutant. So, I lived alone in the woods for… a while. A full year, in the end. But one day, a man found me. Spoke to me like he knew I could understand him. And then he shifted right in front of me."

Dirge chuckled, giving me a little squeeze as I continued.

"It blew my mind that I wasn't the only one. He told me I was safe, I wasn't a monster like I'd thought, and he was going to take me to a pack, a place with other wolves where I'd be safe forever. It took us a full week to hike back to civilization, and the whole time, he told me stories, cooked for me over campfires at night. He made me feel cared for, for a little while. Normal." I swallowed hard, feeling silly.

"But…" Dirge prompted.

"But when we got there, it wasn't his pack. He left me with the Johnson City pack like… a piece of luggage. I felt abandoned all over again, and I haven't seen him since." Goddess, I was pathetic. He was going to see that. It wasn't bad enough that I was a murderer—even when he'd gone feral, he'd never killed anyone—but I was also a sad sack whose only fond childhood memories were of a random alpha who couldn't be bothered to keep her around.

"Until tonight," Dirge murmured, understanding dawning .

"Until tonight," I agreed. "All those memories came rushing back, and I couldn't bear to face him. So, I just… ran."

He smiled, hugging me to his chest. "I can understand that."

We rested for a few moments, and then he said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, happily ensconced in his arms and not looking to move any time soon. Granted, his legs were probably falling asleep and his back was getting tired from leaning against the hard tree trunk, but if so, he didn't complain.

"There's a full moon in just over a week."

"That's… not a question."

"Will you bond with me?"

I froze, my heart thudding at double speed.

"I saw your face earlier. When Karissma said you could help Brielle. And at first, I was against it. Frankly… the scene where you threw yourself in front of that assassin before I could get to you? It has played on repeat in my mind every single night since. But the truth is, I want you. I want this bond between us sealed up tight. It's selfish, really. We've been through a lot, and if you want to wait, I?—"

"I don't." I cut him off, then blushed.

"You don't want to bond with me, or you don't want to wait?" he asked, studying me intently.

"The second thing. I want you to be mine too." I wove my fingers between his, holding him tightly. "I don't want to wait."

A grin started to bloom then, slowly spreading like honey until his whole face was a breathtakingly handsome grin. Goddess, he looked like a fallen angel when he smiled like that. Just a hair to the wrong side of holy.

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Yeah," I said, waggling my eyebrows at him. "I'm sure. If… if you still want me. After hearing everything, about me being a broken mess of a murderer." I hated myself just a little for ru ining this moment with my ugly insecurities. Goddess, I kept on shooting myself in the foot. But?—

"You are not a murderer," he admonished, giving me a stern look. "You're a hero. You saved not just yourself, but every other little girl in those shipping containers from a horrible fate. And if you're broken, well, I guess I am too. But maybe together, we can rebuild something beautiful. The fact that I didn't kill when I was feral doesn't mean I didn't in my time as an enforcer or even since. I have no regrets about taking out the assassin who stabbed you."

I nodded, too emotional for words at his acceptance. After all the things I'd kept hidden, even from my very best friends, he'd just wiped away the stigma, the shame, with an easy smile like it was nothing.

But to me? It was everything.

He kissed me then—both a reprimand and a promise—and I felt the tingles from the top of my hair to the very tips of my toes. And everywhere in between. Everywhere .

We stayed like that for a long while, just basking in the comfort of a mate's touch and kissing as we talked, until the moon had traveled far across the sky and even his banked-coal-level warmth wasn't enough to keep the cold at bay any longer.

"Ready to head back?" he asked.

"Yes, I just wish it weren't so far. I'm exhausted." And I was, to my very bones.

"Luckily for you, I'm not. Hop on," he said, then shifted into his wolf form.

He was big, yes. Almost chest height when I was still in human form.

"Are you sure? You ran just as far as I did."

He yipped his assent, and I pursed my lips, considering the long, long way back.

"Okay, here goes nothing," I muttered, and climbed on his back.