CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Carrying his mate on his back, Jesse trudged up the stairs. “Just think about it. There’s no harm in that.”

“I just don’t think there’s any point,” said Harley.

In the bathroom, he let her slide off his back and then turned to face her. “And why not?”

Squirting toothpaste onto her toothbrush, she pointed out the obvious. “Because it wouldn’t work.” Punctuating that, she shoved her toothbrush in her mouth and went to work on her teeth.

“Now you’re talking stupid.” He brushed his own teeth, enjoying the spark of irritation in her eyes.

Spitting out the toothpaste, she said, “Are you honestly telling me that if I stripped naked, you wouldn’t touch me?”

Once finished with his own teeth, he replied, “I didn’t say I wouldn’t touch you, but I’d hold back from fucking you until we’d finished the game. The loser would have to do whatever the winner wanted,” he added as he followed her into the bedroom.

She snorted. “You’re only saying that because you’re good at pool and think you’ll win.”

He slid in the bed next to her and yanked her close. “I’d win for sure if you were dressed. But if you were all naked and distracting me, you’d have the upper hand.”

Her lips pursed. “That is true.”

“So you’ll think about it.”

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ll think about us playing pool together while naked.”

“That’s my girl.”

“I should warn you that I’m actually not too bad at pool.”

“Yeah? Who taught you?” Her face fell, and he instantly knew . . . “Michael.”

Her nod was jerky. “Yep.”

“Tell me about Michael.” Jesse watched as she bit down hard on her lower lip. He didn’t think she would answer, but then she flashed him a sad smile.

“He was my arch nemesis.”

Taken aback, Jesse laughed.

“That’s how it feels when you’re a kid, doesn’t it? That the point of your sibling’s existence is to make your life hell? He was only around for the first seven years of my life. He dedicated that entire time into driving me crazy. Not in a malicious sense. It was playful torture.”

“I know what you mean.” Jesse skimmed his hand up and down her arm. “What kind of stuff did he do?”

“He’d wake me up by breathing in my face—teenage boy morning breath is foul. He’d hide my favorite toys. Eat my candy. Sometimes we’d sit on the little sofa with a blanket over us . . . he’d drag that blanket over my head, trap me there, and then fart.” Watching Jesse grin, she gasped. “You did that to Mia, didn’t you?”

“It’s a brother’s right.”

Whatever. “Wherever we went, he’d find good hiding spots and show them to me. At the time, I didn’t understand why. I think he was worried that Clive would one day start hitting me. Michael wanted me to have somewhere to hide, somewhere he’d know where to look.” She swallowed hard. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“No, baby, he didn’t.” Jesse kissed her, hating the pain in her eyes.

“He would have liked you.”

Jesse snorted. “He would have hated me for the simple reason that I was his sister’s mate and he believed it was his job to protect you. He would have tried to chase me away.” Probably would have told him that he had no right to claim her when she had a true mate out there waiting for her. Maybe he would have been right, but it wouldn’t have stopped Jesse from claiming her.

He licked over his claiming bite—it had become a sort of talisman to him. “I’ve wanted to put that there for a long time.” He splayed his hand possessively over her stomach. “I want to wear your mark. I want to see it every morning when I look in the mirror. I want others to see it and know I’m yours.”

She tensed. “I know.” But Harley just couldn’t return the claim yet. She’d told Tess it was because she needed to know he could open up, but it was more than that. The little girl inside her who had never been indelible to anyone, who had never really belonged anywhere, worried that she would only ever be second best to Jesse.

He’d told Harley that wasn’t the case, and she was sure he even believed that. She just wasn’t sure that it was true. How could it be? How could she possibly have the same significance to him that his true mate—his other half—did? She didn’t think it could be possible, even if he wanted it to be.

What worried her was that there might be guilt behind his protective walls, guilt at claiming another female. If he had never met and then tragically lost Torrie, it would be different. She would have only existed in his mind as an abstract person. It was easier to forgive yourself for mating another when you had never known your true mate—or, at least, that was how it was for Harley. But Jesse had known Torrie. She’d been a flesh-and-blood person to him, and her death had wrecked him, left a black mark on his soul. Harley had sensed that mark the second she’d met him and looked into a pair of dead eyes.

It was worth noting that he’d had years to come to terms with his loss. His vacant eyes could sometimes gleam with emotion, though it was rare. And he’d actually found enough life in him to want to claim another female. She’d found enough hope in all of that to accept his claim. But to claim him in return, she needed more. She needed the surety that there could be a mating bond.

There were couples that chose not to imprint on each other, but those relationships never worked because their inner animals would accept nothing more than total commitment on every level. If they didn’t get it, they withdrew from the relationship . . . and their human side then had to do the same. As such, her worries about his emotional ability to imprint on her weren’t insignificant.

He’d said Torrie’s death had shaped him into a different person. Maybe it had. Or maybe he’d become a different person to protect the boy who’d lost his mate. Maybe his hard personality was more like a protective shell that guarded his real self.

Harley knew all about building another personality to protect who you truly were and to escape the pain. People did it all the time. But if a part of him deep inside—no matter how small—couldn’t accept Harley without guilt, imprinting would never happen. Then they’d have to go their separate ways and look at each other’s claiming mark in the mirror every freaking day, and remember the mistake they had made.

Tess was right; Harley needed to talk to him. As gently as possible, she said, “Tell me about Torrie.”

Now it was he who tensed. “Why?”

“You never talk about her. You can, you know. I’m not bitter about her being your true mate.”

He rolled onto his back. “I know. But there’s nothing to say.”

Harley tried not to bristle at his icy dismissal, but it was hard. Her cat really didn’t like it. “What was she like?”

Jaw grinding, Jesse merely said, “I told you. Passive. Timid.”

“Yes, but I find it difficult to believe any person could ever be summed up in two words.”

Jesse turned to face her, pinning her gaze. “If there is ever anything you want I’ll give it to you. No limits. I’ll give you whatever you want. Any question you have I’ll answer. But she’s a subject we won’t touch,” he clipped. “I told you about her once so I could make my point. I made it. You got it. We don’t need to speak of her again.”

Irritation and hurt rushed through Harley and her cat in a powerful wave. “Why is she a subject we won’t touch?” Did he think she’d be bitchy about Torrie? Did he really think that little of her?

His nostrils flared. “She has nothing to do with us.”

“She’s not a memory you need to protect from me. I’d never taint your loss with petty jealousies.”

Jesse slid out of bed and shoved a hand through his hair. “She’s fucking dead, Harley. There’s nothing else to say. You don’t need to know about her.”

“Jesse—”

“No, Harley, drop it.” Jesse watched as Harley slowly uncoiled from the bed to stand upright, making him think of a snake ready to strike. And he knew he’d just messed up big time.

“All right,” Harley drawled, remaining cool and collected. She would not let him see her pain. No fucking way. “You want to drop it?” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Something about her tone made his hackles rise. “Harley.”

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Grabbing her robe, she pushed past him and shut herself in the bathroom.

Jesse flinched at the snick of the lock. She hadn’t even slammed the door to make a statement, and that worried him more than if she’d yelled at him. This wasn’t a tantrum. This wasn’t rage. He’d hurt her.

Pressing his forehead and fist against the bathroom door, he closed his eyes. “Harley . . .” But he had no idea what to fucking say. No idea what to do. His wolf began to pace, anxious. Shit, he needed some air.

Standing under the hot spray of the shower, Harley swallowed past the lump of emotion in her throat. She refused to let it escape. Refused to shed the tears welling up in her eyes. She’d expected him to find it hard to speak of Torrie, even expected him to be reluctant to do so, but she hadn’t expected the harsh dismissal.

She’s a subject we won’t touch.

It wasn’t even so much what he’d said as the way he’d said it. Like she wasn’t privy to his memories of Torrie. Like she had no right to ask him to share them. His eyes, his tone, his expression—all of it had been so cold.

Hey, Harley respected that people carried wounds, and she respected their right to withhold their pain. And if Jesse hadn’t insisted on claiming her, and if so much wasn’t riding on his ability to fully open up, she wouldn’t be so cut up about it. But how could he demand that she claim him, that she give him everything she had to give, and then keep a part of himself separate?

No, he didn’t get to ask Harley for everything but then only give her the parts he chose. She wanted the broken parts too. Wanted all of him. And Torrie was a part of him—the other half of his soul. If he couldn’t share that part of himself, Torrie’s memory would effectively become a barrier between them.

Maybe a part of him needed that barrier. Maybe he was hiding behind it, not wanting to risk feeling that depth of pain ever again. Harley didn’t know. She did know that she’d been wrong about her place in his heart. She wasn’t wedged as deep as she’d thought, wasn’t as vital to him as she’d clearly fooled herself into believing. And now she didn’t know what to do about it.

She could cut her losses and leave. But she knew what would happen if she did. Jesse would tell her what she wanted to know, sure, but he’d do it for the wrong reason. It wouldn’t be him lowering his walls. It would be him doing what he had to do to make her stay—and doing it begrudgingly. That wouldn’t fix anything.

She could stay, giving him the time to see for himself what he needed to do to make imprinting work. But she’d, all the while, be aware that he didn’t care for her as much as she’d thought, aware that she cared for him more than he did her. That would eat at her and twist her up inside, though not enough to grow to hate him . . . which was a shame, because that would have made it easy for her to go.

So what the fuck should she do? God help her, she didn’t have a clue. Her cat was just as mixed up about the whole thing. Harley did know that making such a decision while her emotions were running high would be a bad idea. Harley never made good decisions while she was hurt or pissed. And there wasn’t a lot she could do at this late hour anyway.

Tomorrow. She’d figure it out tomorrow. One thing she was sure of was that if she did decide to go, she’d need to have the words to make him understand that it was best for both of them. If she couldn’t get him on the same wavelength, he’d just harass her to stay. And she was weak enough to do just that, hating to hurt him when he was already so wounded.

Stepping out of the shower, she quickly dried off and pulled on her robe. Opening the bathroom door, she found an empty bedroom. The bastard hadn’t just dismissed her; he’d left her. With a low growl, she exchanged her robe for shorts and a tank top before sliding into bed. It took a while for the chaos in her mind to calm, but eventually sleep crept up on her.

She was half asleep when a solid body curved around hers and one hand splayed over her stomach. Ignoring him, she forced herself to relax. She’d need her sleep to deal with him tomorrow.

Jesse woke up alone. It took only mere moments before memories of the previous night pushed to the forefront of his mind. A sick feeling took hold in his stomach. He’d fucked up last night. Slammed up his guard and, in doing so, hurt the one person who shouldn’t have to fear he’d ever hurt her. If he’d just calmly explained he didn’t want to talk about Torrie, Harley probably would have accepted that. But no, he’d been unnecessarily cold.

Rolling onto his back, he pinched the bridge of his nose. God, he was such a dick. His wolf pushed against his skin, urging him to seek her out. That was what he’d do. He needed to find her and fix this. Cats were notorious for holding grudges, but Harley would accept an apology with grace if it were heartfelt. He was counting on that now.

Once he was washed and dressed, Jesse headed downstairs. Harley was nowhere to be seen, so he exited the patio door and saw that, yep, she was sitting in the tree with a book. She didn’t look at him, though she had to have sensed him. She was fully dressed in a pair of slashed jeans and a pale-blue T-shirt—a T-shirt that hid his claiming mark. He was hoping that wasn’t intentional. In any case, it annoyed his wolf.

“Morning, baby,” he greeted gently, testing the waters.

She looked down at him and softly greeted, “Morning.” She seemed serene. Relaxed. Trouble free. Which made absolutely no sense to him. Her attention went right back to her book.

“Come here,” he coaxed.

Gold eyes cut to him. “Why?”

“So I can apologize.” That got him no response. All right, he’d do it from where he stood. “I hurt you last night. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”

She pursed her lips. “Apology accepted.”

He sensed it wasn’t a lie. He also sensed that, though she may accept his apology, he’d broken something. Something he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix. And it didn’t bode well for him that she’d resumed reading her book as opposed to climbing down the tree.

“Baby,” he said. “Baby, look at me.” Her gaze met his, and his enhanced vision picked up that it was clear and tranquil, yet there was something missing. Anxiety trickled through him, and his wolf’s hackles rose. “Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then don’t wish you could.” Her eyes flashed. Ah, he’d hit the nail on the head there. “I told you before that you’re more important to me than anything. I meant it.”

Harley knew her smile was a little sad. She was more important to him than anything, but not so important that she had any rights to his memories of Torrie. She’d spent the past hour debating on whether to stay or go. She was very tempted to just pack her shit and march out, but that was fueled by anger and wounded pride, not good sense. And walking out felt too much like giving up. Harley had never been a quitter.

Besides, it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Jesse had already lost one mate; he wouldn’t let go of Harley so easily. They’d have the argument of all arguments. Harley wasn’t a fan of drama. But she could only stay if he understood that he couldn’t stonewall her, that he’d only have everything from her if he gave her everything back.

So, she reasoned, she’d have to make him understand. Yes, she could lay it all out and give him the chance to fix it. And if he couldn’t give her what she needed, she’d just have to wish him well and then leave. Her cat didn’t fight the idea of leaving him, still hurt by his actions.

“Come down and—” Jesse cut off at the sounds of voices. Dammit. “Give me a sec, baby.” Returning inside the lodge, he strode to the front door and opened it wide. A grim and enraged Derren, Ally, Bracken, Eli, and Roni were fast approaching. “What?”

“Don’t freak out,” said Derren.

So, of course, Jesse began to freak out. “Is this about Hector?”

“No. Although Donovan says he’s close to tracking the guy’s parents.”

“Then why are you here?” Jesse frowned as Derren held up a folded newspaper. Taking it, he stepped back to allow the wolves to enter.

At that moment, Harley walked into the living area, arms folded. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Jesse. He wanted to go to her, hold her, but she had a warning “everyone keep your distance” vibe going on right then.

“Check out page four,” Derren told him. So Jesse did, and then swore.

Harley glanced from person to person. “What’s going on?”

“Looks like a reporter managed to get some photos of you and Jesse when you visited your aunt,” said Roni.

Harley’s face went slack. “You’re kidding me.”

Roni shook her head. “There are pictures of you both inside the SUV; one is of him kissing you, and another is of him stroking your claiming bite.”

“The reporter writes that you’ve ‘switched sides,’” Jesse growled. “That by mating into a pack and quitting your job, you’ve turned your back on humans.” Crunching the paper in his hands, he looked at her. “As if that’s not bad enough, the extremists will now know where you are.”

Harley’s cat hissed. “Let me guess . . . the author of the article is Gabrielle Rowan.”

Jesse’s brow creased. “Yes.”

Her cat went insane, raking Harley’s stomach—wanting freedom so she could hunt down this person who had endangered her. “Let me see.” Harley held her hand out for the newspaper, and Jesse reluctantly handed it over. As she looked at the photos and skimmed over the article, she growled. “That bitch!”

“I take it you know her,” said Ally.

“Gabrielle Rowan has been on my case since I moved to California, asking for information on Clive—what he’s like, if he’s part of The Movement, if he created The Movement.”

Eli folded his arms. “The way she talks about you is almost . . .”

“Bitchy,” supplied Ally.

The Head Enforcer nodded. “She really doesn’t like you, Harley.”

The feeling was mutual. “Yeah, well, I was pretty rude to her.”

“Hector has to be behind this,” said Eli. “He talked of going to reporters with the testimonies. Maybe this is his way of letting us know he has no problem causing trouble for us. Maybe he even thinks trouble will drive us out of here.”

“I agree,” said Jesse, a muscle in his cheek ticking. “He could even be hoping to cause trouble within the pack. The reporter’s claiming that ‘sources’ from my old pack and this pack say that Harley was instrumental in my deceased sister’s addiction and they feel upset and angry at me for taking her as my mate. That’s a load of shit. No one from this pack would do anything like that.” He couldn’t say the same for his old pack, though.

Roni looked at Harley. “You know, although that’s only a local newspaper and unlikely to be seen by either side of your family, the news of your mating will travel fast. It won’t be long until they find out. How do you think Clive will react?”

She sighed. “I have no idea. But he won’t like finding out this way.”

“Is the reporter right about him being a raging psychopath?” Bracken asked. At Jesse’s hard look, the enforcer raised his hands. “It was just a question.”

“Your family will lose their minds over this,” Harley warned Jesse.

“Probably,” said Jesse, “but I always knew that.” He just refused to let it be a factor in his decision to claim her.

“You have to stop this bitch from writing a follow-up article that could further stir up the extremists,” said Roni.

“A reporter isn’t going to back off a story like this easy,” said Harley. “Especially not this reporter. She’s like a fucking bulldog.”

Bracken nodded. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s ballsy enough to demand something in return for ceasing to write stuff about you.”

Yeah, she’d want information on Clive. Harley wasn’t giving that heifer anything.

“Before we came here, we had Donovan find out some things about this little reporter,” said Derren. “She’s twenty-seven, unmated, and lives in an apartment outside of her territory but remains an official member of her pack.” He rattled off the address before continuing. “She likes covering news related to extremists and The Movement and is currently sleeping with her human boss—a guy with a pregnant wife and two kids.”

Harley’s brows flew up. Gabrielle truly was an absolute bitch who lacked any morals. Apparently her boss wasn’t much better.

“What’s more interesting is what Donovan discovered about the guy she’s sleeping with,” added Derren. “Listen to this . . .”

Arriving at apartment 253A, Jesse placed his body slightly in front of Harley’s and rapped his knuckles on the door. His Beta pair had followed them in another vehicle, and they were parked outside, keeping a lookout. No one thought that the extremists would stupidly try to make a grab for Harley, but they all agreed that it wasn’t worth the risk.

He glanced at Harley, trying to gauge her mood. Right now, she was proving harder to read than usual. She’d been quiet as they drove. They often lapsed into comfortable silences, neither feeling the need to speak for the mere sake of it. But the earlier silence had felt awkward. Loaded with things left unsaid. It made his wolf anxious.

Moments later, a small redhead with cunning eyes opened the door. Those eyes flashed with recognition as she took him in. She gave him a sultry grin, but it dimmed as her gaze flicked to the female with him. “Well, if it isn’t Harley Vincent. Changed your mind about giving me an exclusive after all?”

“We should take this inside,” said Jesse.

Harley almost rolled her eyes when Gabrielle’s breath hitched and her eyes went half lidded. Her cat unsheathed her claws and took a swipe at the bitch for ogling him.

Gabrielle swung the door open wide. “Come on in.” She put a lot of sway into her hips as she led them into the living area. Her place was actually nice. Stylish. Contemporary. Though maybe a little soulless for Harley’s liking.

“You know something, Harley?” said Gabrielle, picking up her Dictaphone with a smirk. “I always knew you would come to me sooner or later.”

The cockiness in her manner disgusted Harley’s cat. “Why is that?”

“I’m very good at reading people.”

Jesse took the Dictaphone from her hand, checked it wasn’t switched on, and then slung it on the sofa. “She’s not here to discuss Clive Vincent.” He tilted his head. “You don’t like my Harley very much, do you? I have to wonder what your issue with her is.”

Gabrielle stiffened . . . most likely because a lethal edge had crept into his voice that made even Harley nervous. Considering how much beef he had with the reporter, Harley had expected an explosion of some sort. But no. Oh, it was clear that he was pissed; his fury pulsed around the room. But he appeared the epitome of calm.

“I’m not interested in making a new friend; I’m interested in her story,” said Gabrielle, watching him carefully. “I suppose I haven’t been too polite in trying to get it, but it’s just business.”

One of Harley’s brows slid up. “Not personal?” She hissed. “That article you wrote will have extremists lining up to reach me.”

Her over-glossed lips flattened. “You have a pack to protect you now.”

“A pack that you also endangered by sending extremists my way.” Her voice went slightly guttural as her cat pushed for dominance.

Licking her lips, Gabrielle backed up. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Harley, taking a step forward for each one she took backward. Gabrielle’s eyes flickered with fear. Her cat liked that.

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Harley’s mouth curved. “You don’t know me, Gabrielle. You don’t know what I’m capable of or you would never have fucked with me.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to piss off a margay?” Jesse asked the reporter. “I’m a Mercury wolf, as you know. My pack has the kind of resources, contacts, and alliances you can only dream of. Just imagine how much misery I can cause a person for fucking with my mate . . . then triple it.”

Chest rising and falling madly, Gabrielle said shakily, “My pack wouldn’t take too kindly to you threatening me.” Oh, the fox had balls.

“They’ll see it as my right, given that your actions put my mate in danger,” said Jesse. “They’ll also be forced to agree that it was wrong for you to take personal photographs without my knowledge or consent. No shifter likes their private business made public.”

“The photographs were given to me anonymously. Someone slid them under the door of my office. They were in a blank envelope.”

“Is that so?” he asked, skeptical.

“Look.” She opened a black satchel, flipped it open, and pulled out a letter-sized brown envelope—the same kind Hector had used to contain the testimonies. “There are at least five photos in there.”

Jesse fished them out and quickly flipped through them. “You have no idea who sent them to you?”

She shook her head. “A lot of people leave me things anonymously.”

“Hmm.” Jesse returned the photos to the envelope. “I’ll be taking these with me.”

Harley then shoved her way into Gabrielle’s personal space. “Now you listen, and you listen good. If you do anything to put me in more danger than I’m already in, I’ll come for you. Just in case you’re thinking your pack can protect you or that it’s worth the risk, I can always pay your boss’s wife a visit. I’m sure she’d be interested to know just how close you are to her husband. And I’d be more than happy to tell her.”

Her mouth fell open. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Yes, you do.” And so did Harley, thanks to Donovan. “What you may not know is that his wife inherited a lot of money. They have a prenup stating that if he’s unfaithful, he walks away from their marriage with nothing. You can imagine how quickly he’ll fire your ass for fucking up his life, can’t you? And if there’s one thing you care about, it’s your job.”

Looking at the fox doing her best to hide the tremble in her legs, Harley came very close to feeling sorry for her. But not close enough. This female was ruthless and without morals. “What will it be, Rowan?” Harley continued. “You can agree right now to not include me in any more articles . . . or, to put it simply, you can fuck me over and then watch your life fall apart.”

Gabrielle closed her eyes for a moment. Then her shoulders sagged slightly. “Fine.”

“Say it,” snarled Jesse.

Her eyes snapped open. “I won’t include Harley in any more of my articles.”

“Right answer.” Putting his hand on Harley’s back, he guided her to the front door.

“Don’t you want to know who my source is from your pack?” Oh, apparently Gabrielle wanted to take a parting shot.

As he opened the door wide, he gave Gabrielle a hard look. “That was just petty.” He trusted his pack mates, was confident that they would never betray him.

“Don’t be so sure!”

Ignoring her, Jesse and Harley left. As they waited for the elevator, he turned to Harley, worried that Gabrielle’s claim had ruined what progress the pack had made in earning her trust. “You don’t know my pack well enough to trust them like I do, so I can understand if her words might worry you. But she only claimed to have a source from our pack to give her article some credibility—nothing more.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Your pack mates are loyal to one another. I don’t think they would betray you by talking to a reporter.” Not even Nat and Kim. For all their faults, they loved Bracken. “I especially don’t think they would want attention drawn to the pack. As for your old pack . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if they told her a few things.”

Neither would Jesse. As the elevator doors opened, he took her hand. “Come on.” She tried to retrieve her hand, but he just tightened his grip. He wouldn’t allow his mate to pull back from him, but he could feel her holding him at an emotional distance.

Deciding it might be best to give her space, he went about his enforcer duties when they returned to Mercury territory. But when he met up with her again in time for the evening meal, it wasn’t to find that she’d thawed out. On the contrary, she was wound up tight . . . like something had been eating at her all day long and she needed to get it out of her system. Yeah, well, he’d sure like to hear what was on her mind. Then they could move the hell past it.

As such, he pretty much verbally leapt on her the second they got home after the evening meal.