Chapter Thirty-One

He kicked the door of his cabin open, his kick so strong the door banged against the wall, bouncing back and hitting him in the shoulder before he could carry Harper inside.

A grunt sounded somewhere. It must have been him because she answered with one of her own, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist.

She was everywhere. All around him, inside him. Her scent. Her heat. Her. He felt the wildness—the thing he'd tried so hard not to be—tearing at him from the inside, shouting for him to give in to it. "Jak," she whispered between kisses. The sound of his name on her lips made his chest squeeze so hard he had to suck in a breath. He couldn't believe this. She was here. With him. Letting him touch her and kiss her. Hot. Beautiful. His. The wildness moved forward, taking over.

He threw her on the bed, and she let out a surprised laugh as she bounced once, then twice. She stilled and her eyes went wide as she stared up at him, but not with the fear he thought he'd see. He wasn't sure he was glad of that or not. He needed her to tell him if what he was doing was right or wrong because he didn't know how to do this. All he knew were his instincts—that wild wolf inside him—and his instincts wanted to take , wanted him to lose control, to feed the hunger pounding through his veins.

"You're trembling," she said, so soft he almost didn't hear her for the blood whooshing in his head. She took his hand and pulled him down to her, bringing one hand to his cheek and tracing his cheekbone. He closed his eyes at the shocking happiness of this woman touching him with…sweetness. "Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?" she asked, smoothing a long piece of hair back from his forehead.

He shook his head, unable to speak, his world turning back to only pictures, only feelings and smells, the way it'd started to become before he'd found the car, the words. The notebooks that had made him human again. Before her mother brought him from the darkness.

She smiled, a slow curving of her lips, the ones that were plump and pink from kissing him. He felt pride in his chest that he had made her look that way. Him. He had claimed her. He wished other males could see. Know that she was his. "You're beautiful."

"Beautiful?" He frowned. He thought that was a word used for females, and he didn't know if it meant she thought of him as a woman. That was definitely not what he wanted.

Harper laughed, running a finger down his scar again. "Handsome. Sexy. Beautiful in a masculine way." It was like she knew what he had thought, and it made him feel happy. The light from the window made her skin look golden, and her eyes sparkled. She was the beautiful one. He leaned forward and kissed her because he could. That fire in his veins grew hotter again, and when she let out a moan, it caused some of his control to slip. Hold on. Hold on.

He needed to smell her. Everywhere.

He moved his nose to her neck and inhaled, and in that spot he could smell her, not the things she wore on top of her smell, but the scent of her skin. Her and only her. The scent that brought the whispers moving fast through his blood. "I like the way you smell," he said against her throat. She let out a small sound that might be a laugh, but the good kind. And she put her fingers into his hair, her nails scraping over his scalp. He growled, low in his throat, and then went lower, stopped by the top of her sweater.

"You can take it off," she whispered.

He didn't pause, sliding the material up her ribs and over her head as she lifted for him. His blood spiked as he threw the piece of clothing aside, but then he frowned when he saw she was wearing something else underneath it—something white that covered her breasts. She laughed again, but as he looked up, her eyes were happy. She put her hands behind his head and brought him down to her.

They kissed for a while longer, him following her lead and quickly learning what she liked by the way she moaned and pressed her body into his. He loved the taste of her tongue. The way it was soft and wet and twisted with his. He loved the feel of her, so much smaller and more delicate than he was. It made him want to protect her and fight for her.

He wanted to do whatever she told him to do. From that moment until forever.

He brought his head down to between her breasts and inhaled there, her true smell even stronger. It made his head dizzy. It made him want to thrust and take.

He let his instincts lead him then; he couldn't help it. He removed her clothes, needy to know her, to smell her every secret place, to have her. He didn't want her to keep secrets from him. He wanted to know them all. To take, and then take more and more and more. To feed himself until he was finally full and then sleep and feed himself some more. On her. Animal instincts, he reminded himself. I might scare her. Woman is sacred, he whispered in his mind, the quote from the notes her mother had written about the book he hadn't yet read.

Sacred. Something that was a treasure. To him, she was. And he was still hungry for her. He didn't know how to balance the two sides of himself. Not when she was lying beneath him, making sweet sounds and running her fingers over his arms, through his hair.

"Jak, yes," she moaned when he removed her boots and then her jeans, sliding them down her legs and tossing them on the floor. He came over her again, and her eyes showed a flash of fear then. He hesitated, trembling. Please don't make me stop. But she reached for him, bringing him back to her.

He moved down her body, sniffing all the places he wanted to know, going back over her belly when she gasped. He licked her skin, tasting the sweet and the salt, nipping at it lightly so her backside came up off his bed.

He could smell the place between her legs, and the scent of it so close to his nose made him growl from the pleasure— pain —of the way his body swelled and hardened like he'd never experienced before. He ran his nose over the womanly mound beneath the cloth of her underpants, and she gripped his hair in her hands, tugging. The need to smell her there was a hunger he could not ignore, and with one quick movement, he brought the material down her legs and tossed it on the floor.

He nuzzled her with his nose and his mouth, inhaling, learning her scent so it became a part of him, and she jerked when his nose rubbed the spot below her mound.

She smelled like life, like sweet water, like fertile earth and perfectly ripened berries that would take away the pain of hunger. Her woman scent was the beginning of everything and the place where he wanted to draw his final breath. She was meant for him; he knew that now. No other woman. Only her.

He waited for the fog to clear enough that he could focus on her sounds, the way she gripped his hair and raised herself to meet his face. He moved more slowly, going lower, breathing her, his tongue darting out to taste her, to lick her sweetness. Mine, mine, mine, the whispers sang low and old like time and earth. She made a sound deep in her throat and gripped his hair more tightly, and so he lapped her again. Again. Again. He loved the way she tasted. It spoke to both sides of him—both the animal and the man. For that minute, it made him believe he could be both, that he didn't have to choose which part of himself to turn away.

Her whimpers grew louder and closer together until finally she screamed his name, her thighs clenching around his head and then loosening slowly, her hands letting go of his hair.

He knew what had happened because it'd happened to him, that explosion of pleasure that made his skin prickle and stars burst inside his mind. And he'd made that happen to her. He felt proud. He grinned against her thigh, rubbing his lips across her silky skin.

She pulled on him, and he moved up her body, lying next to her on the bed. She turned, her eyes half lowered and a small, happy smile on her lips. She pushed his shirt up, and he removed it, tossing it on the floor, holding his breath. She ran a hand over his hair and down his face. She brought her mouth to his and kissed him slowly, and for several minutes there was nothing but her lips, her tongue, the blood pumping hotly through his body, the snap of the dying fire, and the lowering light of the cabin as the sun moved somewhere else in the sky. Her warm skin was pressed to his, and Jak had never felt anything better. Never.

Without taking her mouth from his, she unbuttoned his jeans and slid her hand inside, gripping him, rubbing him. He groaned, his lips breaking from hers as he opened his eyes. She was watching him, and for a minute, their gazes stared as her hand kept moving. It was almost too much, too much…closeness when he'd had none, too much pleasure when he'd only ever given it to himself. Too much, too much. He couldn't believe this was real. He thought it must be a dream. Please don't end. Please don't end. He broke their gaze, squeezing his eyes shut as she kept stroking him, up, down until he jerked and shuddered, pleasure bursting over him like he was one of a thousand falling stars, streaking toward the earth below. But he wanted to fall because when he opened his eyes, she was waiting.

His breath slowed, the world coming back together in small pieces, the crackle of fire, the light, the cold wetness of his pleasure, the feel of Harper's hand moving up his stomach. He opened his eyes, and she smiled at him, kissing him once, softly, quickly.

They'd mated…but they hadn't. He knew they had not done the thing the animals did when they mounted and thrust. The way he'd thrust into his own hand when he thought about mating with a woman he wanted to call his own.

"What?" she asked. "What are you thinking?"

For a minute, he wasn't sure he could speak, so taken over by what they'd done, by the way they were still lying together, her mostly naked, her hand moving over the scars on his chest. "Do humans…mate in all kinds of different ways?"

She smiled, a sweet one, her hand moving to another scar, her finger going along it. "Yes, I suppose so. It's not called mating for humans though. It's called sex. Or making love. There are different terms too, but those are the best ones to start with, I think." Then her smile turned to a frown, when her finger moved to the part of the scar on his ribs that the wild pig had made. He didn't want her thinking about him fighting with wild pigs right then—or ever actually—and so he turned a little so her finger fell away from that scar. Her gaze met his, and she said, "We didn't make love though. That's"—her eyes moved to the side and then back to his—"different. It's when—"

"It's when a male mounts a female and thrusts inside her." He paused for a moment. He wondered if she wanted to do that but wasn't sure he should ask. He wanted to. He could feel his body hardening just thinking about it. That had never happened to him before—getting hard right after he felt the rush of pleasure that made his seed burst from his body.

"Yes, that's right." A blush moved up her neck, and it confused him after what they'd just done. I said things the wrong way, that's why, he thought and felt a little bad, but that feeling wasn't as strong as the happiness he felt at having her in his arms, of whispering to each other as her hands ran over his skin. "We didn't make love, but we touched each other intimately, and that's a very special thing. To me, it is anyway." She looked down, so he couldn't see her eyes and that blush that had moved up her neck, stayed in her cheeks now. He couldn't understand why she was acting shy talking about it when they'd just done it. That seemed…backward. Another rule he'd have to figure out.

"It's special to me too," he said. "I want to do it again with you. And…again."

She laughed, a happy sound, her eyes shining as she met his gaze. "Me too. But first, feed me, Jak. I've worked up an appetite."

He grinned. He could do that. He could feed her. Nothing would bring him more happiness.

***

They spent the day taking turns reading aloud from The Count of Monte Cristo . Jak read slowly, carefully, and would halt when he came to a word he didn't know, his eyes moving over it several times before he'd attempt to say it out loud. Nine times out of ten, he'd say it correctly the first time. He's smart, Harper thought over and over. More than smart. If he ventured into the world, he would adeptly figure out modern-day society in a matter of weeks. As they read, he brought up questions that were both sophisticated—considering how he'd lived—and extremely insightful. He was a complete dichotomy—wild and sensitive, uneducated and astute—and he fascinated her to no end.

Her skin flushed when she thought about what they'd done, the way the lust she'd experienced with Jak was all-consuming. Since she'd graduated from high school, she'd had this idea that enjoying sex with partners of her choosing and then controlling those relationships was the key to her healing. She'd take back her power, she thought. And yet…she'd always felt…removed from her partners. Emotionally disappointed in the aftermath. As alone as ever. So, for the last couple of years, she'd abandoned sex entirely. She knew why she had sexual hang-ups, of course, but the knowing had never altered her reaction to a man touching her. Until now.

Something about it had felt so…decadent. It was funny that that particular word would come to mind in a sparse wood cabin in the middle of the forest, not a scrap of luxury to be found. But, yes, that description felt right. Lying there with him, touching each other's skin in the golden light of afternoon had felt like the most decadent thing she'd ever experienced. Their bodies were decadent, she realized. They were made to feel that way. It was a revelation.

She liked his uninhibited joy at touching her. She liked his frank questions. They aroused her. Excited her.

Jak was obviously inexperienced, but there was something amazingly erotic about watching him follow his instincts when it came to sex, to touching her body, to taking pleasure for himself. I could fall in love with this man, she thought, but pushed the notion aside. There were too many questions, too many uncertainties when it came to how a relationship with him might work. And somehow it felt…unfair to think too much about her own desires when it came to him. He had lived a life of strife and struggle, and he had so many more—albeit of a different kind—in front of him. It was going to be challenging, to say the least, to learn the many things his life thus far had not taught him.

But for the moment, those were topics too vast and removed to think about. For right then, there was Jak, his head bent toward hers, his forehead wrinkled in concentration, his beautiful lips mouthing a word he'd never said before. There were the warmth of the fire and the bright, shiny, icy world outside the window. Frozen. Just like time seemed to be that day. There was the achingly sweet way he smiled so shyly at her when she caught him staring. The way canned pears made him lick his lips with delight and the way his kisses became more bold, more practiced, more toe-curlingly delicious as the day wore on.

They trekked the few miles to the old logging road, unobscured by the thickness of forest, and Harper was able to get a signal. She called the group home and explained why she hadn't made her shift, and then she called Rylee and left her a message when she didn't answer. She thought about calling Agent Gallagher, but he hadn't left a message for her, and she knew he would have if he had any new information about her parents.

A bird called out, a beautiful warbling sound that echoed through the trees, and Harper smiled. Jak caught her eye and raised his face, putting his hands around his mouth and mimicking the song. It was so exact that Harper's mouth fell open. "How'd you do that?"

He smiled, shrugged. "Practice. I wish I knew the names for things," he murmured, almost to himself. "I know what they sound like and what they do but not what they're called."

"I can help with some," Harper said, "but I don't know the name for that particular bird."

They walked slowly back through the forest to his cabin, a red fox spotting them, staring with wide eyes and darting away. Harper smiled, wondering if it was the mother fox out hunting for her babies.

"Foxes mate for life," Harper said. She'd always liked that about them.

"Not all of them," Jak answered.

Harper turned her head. "What? Yes, they do."

"Where'd you learn that?"

"In a book."

"The book lied. Some foxes mate for life. But not all of them. I saw this gray one with four females last summer. They were in three different directions. That guy was always running somewhere."

"What was he doing?"

" Mating ."

"That devil. "

Jak laughed, the most open and honest laugh she'd ever heard, and Harper's stomach flipped. "So what's a female fox to do? How does she separate the monogamous male foxes from the chronic bachelors?"

Jak shot her a smile, obviously having garnered what monogamous meant and what a chronic bachelor was. "All males have to make a…case for themselves. Why should a female choose him ? They do it in different ways. Birds sing or fluff their feathers. Some animals walk fancy or dance around." He shot her another playful smile. "Males have a hundred ways to beg. But it's always up to the female to give her signal that she chooses him. Until that moment, he…circles."

Harper stepped over a rock jutting from the snow. "Not in the human world. There, men take what they want," she murmured. She hadn't planned to say that, but she'd been lost in the moment, and it had rolled off her tongue.

Jak gave her a curious look and then stopped, turning toward her. She came up short too. "Do you mean me?"

"Oh, no. Please don't think that. No. I…" She pulled in a deep breath and then let it out. The forest was silent around her, the trees overhead shutting out the blue of the sky. It felt like a different world, somewhere she could be different too. It felt like a place that would keep her secrets safe. And she found she didn't want to keep secrets from him. She wanted him to understand her, to know her. "After my parents died, the first house I was placed into was owned by a woman with a teenage son. He would come into my room at night and…touch me."

Jak stared at her for a moment, his expression growing dark. "Touch you? Like…I touched you?"

Harper nodded, biting at her lips, struggling to keep eye contact. It was not her fault, she knew that, and yet, God, why was there still so much shame?

"But…you were a child."

Harper bobbed her head again. "Yes. Some people have sicknesses that they carry inside. Sicknesses of their soul. That boy did."

He studied her intently for another moment, and she could see the wheels of understanding turning in his mind. "Your parents weren't there. You were alone."

"Yes," she breathed. "I mean, it would have been hard under any circumstances, but yes, with no one to turn to"—she lowered her head, shook it—"it was…awful." The last word died on her lips, and Jak stepped forward, though haltingly. He raised his arms, his expression uncertain before he enfolded her in an embrace, pulling her against his large, solid chest, the chest that held the proof that he himself had bled and hurt so many times. Alone in a way she really had no concept of despite her own feelings of loss and abandonment.

He held her tightly, and she felt the tension seeping from her body, from her soul maybe if that were possible. Being held… When was the last time she'd been simply held close like this? Not in a romantic way, but for the sole purpose of providing solace? By her mother or father, she supposed. And, oh, how long ago that had been. Part of her wanted to weep with the sweetness of it, of the way it felt so necessary, when she hadn't known how desperately she'd needed it. And the other part of her marveled that this man knew to provide her with it. When had he last been comforted, if he even remembered it? And if he didn't, was this an instinctive act? The same way he'd figured out— quite adeptly —how to pleasure her body?

She hugged him back, giving him—she hoped—the same thing he was giving her.

After another minute, she pulled back, tilting her head and looking up at him. "Thank you."

He nodded, releasing her, and she felt the loss of his body heat—the way he'd felt so strong and solid against her—immediately.

"Do you think I can ever be normal?" She turned her head and saw that he was squinting off into the distance, in the direction of Helena Springs. Civilization.

"Of course you can be normal, Jak. You already are normal. It would be an adjustment to live among people, to…adapt to society, but I don't think it would take you long."

He looked at her, his expression full of vulnerability. He could school his expression if he wanted to, but lord, when he didn't attempt to, he was such an open book, each thought skating so transparently across his handsome features. "You believe in me."

"Yes. I believe in you."

"I believe in you too."

She laughed, and he smiled, as though the sound brought him joy. Truly, though, his words made her feel powerful. He had both internal and external scars to contend with, and she did too. But they would both adjust, both overcome, both thrive. In that moment, she believed it with every fiber of her being.

Jak's smile faded, and she saw worry in his eyes. "I don't know where to start."

"I'll help you." Her mind spun. He'd need an ID first. She'd bet Agent Gallagher would be able to help with that. He'd need… She cut off her cluttered thoughts. He'd need help, guidance, yes, and she'd have to consider how big a role she should play in that, but in any case, she could point him in the right direction. She had faith that he could take it from there. She'd meant it when she'd said she believed in him. "I'll help you help yourself. You can do anything once you know where to start."

That same worry and vulnerability appeared in his expression.

Harper stopped, bending and retrieving a long twig on top of the crust of snow. She formed it into a circle and then gestured for Jak to bend. He did, a look of curiosity on his face, his gaze intent. Their breath mingled, chemistry sizzled the way it simply did whenever they were close that way, and she placed the makeshift crown upon his head. "There," she said, a slight hitch in her voice. "I, Harper Ward, appoint you King of your Own Destiny from this day forward. May you rule your subject with dignity, kindness, and…patience."

He stood to his full height and then removed the crown from his head. "And I, Jak, appoint you Queen of your Own Destiny from this day forward. Be good to your subject." He smiled a bit bashfully, and Harper laughed as he placed the "crown" upon her head.

She took his hand in hers again, and they walked through the snowy forest hand in hand. She had no idea what would be in their future. In his. In hers. But she'd never felt so…embraced. And in that moment, with the white of winter surrounding them, she didn't feel the cold. Because neither Harper nor Jak was alone to face whatever came next.