Chapter Forty-Four

He'd disappeared. Apparently during a riotous bird jailbreak. Now no one knew where he'd gone. Harper's heart twisted as she paced her apartment. Jak, Jak, Jak.

She could only imagine the torment he'd felt when Agent Gallagher told him about what they'd found. He'd not only survived those unthinkable moments, but they'd been orchestrated, saved on film. Critiqued. Twenty-four hours later, she could hardly fathom the evil. Could hardly think about it without tears springing to her eyes.

"Where are you?" she murmured. The only place he knew was the forest. Would he go back there now that he didn't have a house to live in?

She had a feeling he would. She had a feeling he was hunkered down somewhere alone. A cave or a cropping of trees. Somewhere he felt safe. Did you not come to me because you didn't know how? Because you felt so lost in this world? Was it because she hadn't gone to him? She'd wanted to, only Agent Gallagher had thought it best that he deliver the news, get the answers he needed. And truth be told, she'd needed some time to get herself together after what she'd seen. God, her heart hurt.

She couldn't simply sit around waiting for news, and the sheriff's office wasn't mounting a search. He wasn't a criminal. Well, if you didn't count the whole bird-freeing thing (but his grandfather had apparently talked his step-grandmother into not pressing charges for that). Nor was he a missing person. He was a victim. And he'd walked away from Thornland Estate without a backward glance.

Harper threw on her coat and pulled on her boots, grabbed her purse, and locked her door behind her. Twenty minutes later, she was pulling off the highway onto the back road that led to the closed-off logging trail.

The walk to what had been Jak's house was easier now that some of the snow had melted. Despite her worry and fear that she wouldn't find him, Harper was able to appreciate the beauty of the forest. The air so clean and fresh, the birdsong all around her, the sense of being part of everything in some indefinable way. Jak had walked through this forest all of his life, thinking his own thoughts, dreaming his own dreams, learning, growing… not a single person to share any of it with . The loneliness he must have felt… She couldn't even fathom how he'd survived any of it, but mostly the loneliness. Mostly that.

She came to the house he'd lived in. Everything was still…hushed. She walked to the door and knocked but received no answer. At the back of the house, she put her hands around her mouth so her voice would carry. "Jak?" she called into the forest, stepping closer. She felt him; she swore she did.

"Jak?" she called again, louder. "Please come out. Please. I'm alone, and I'm…afraid." It was true, but she knew she was using manipulation. If he could hear her, he would come. He wouldn't resist her plea for help. She knew him, and she used his goodness. Because I love him, she told herself. Because I haven't even said it to him yet and he needs to know. He needs to know he's loved.

She heard a rustling. Footsteps. And he appeared, stepping between two trees, his head lowered. He looked so different now than the first time she'd seen him standing amid the forest. His coat was store-bought, his boots clean and new, his jaw only showing the bare bit of scruff. When he looked up, the expression on his face was wary, afraid, filled with…grief. Shame.

"Jak," she said softly, using her arm to gesture to the forest around them. "You…you don't belong here anymore." You belong with me. Come home with me.

He looked down, shaking his head. "I know, Harper. But…I don't belong there either. I don't belong anywhere."

She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest, breathing him in. "I know it feels like that, but it's not true," she said, holding him tighter. He'd gone still when she'd wrapped him in her arms, and now he let out a tortured sigh, his arms coming around her, running over her hair, her back, a groaning sound emanating from his chest.

She tipped her head, looking up at him. "Jak, I was so worried."

Confusion skated over his face before he let go of her, stepping away, turning again. "You saw," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "You don't have to pretend. I know you saw all of it. You saw. What I did. You…saw."

Oh God. He's…ashamed . So wrong. Although he had to be more upset by the revelations she knew Agent Gallagher had shared with him, by the news of the terrible crime committed against him. She took him in, his shoulders hunched, head hanging low. He looked like a wounded animal. Lost. Her heart twisted, cracked.

She took a deep breath. "Yes," she confirmed. "I saw." She moved closer, putting her hand on his arm, though he still didn't turn toward her. "I saw pictures of you surviving in ways that will never be erased from my soul. Not because they disgusted me, but because my heart bled for you and rejoiced with you and found awe in your courage. Your will to live. The pictures I saw broke my heart, Jak, but more than that, they made me proud and deeply humbled by your strength. They…made me love you even more than I already did," she finished, her voice filled with the heartfelt passion that lived in her heart for the man in front of her, feeling shame for things he was not responsible for.

He turned then, though slowly, his face filled with wary surprise, a glimmer of hope. But as quickly as she saw it, it disappeared. "He described me as a possum sometimes, other times a deer." He stepped back, away from her. "He also called me the wolf." He let out a deep tortured breath. "And…I'm all of them, Harper." He said it as though his heart broke to admit it, such sadness in his eyes that she almost couldn't bear it. "I'm each one. I tried not to be, but I am." He shook his head. "I haven't been the possum for a long time. He was the scared boy. But the other two…they're who I grew to be, and I can't leave either one behind." He took a shuddery breath. "Do you want the buck who will shake hands and use table manners or the wolf who might tear you apart? And what happens if I can't promise you the wolf won't come out when you least expect it? I can't be just one or the other. I'm both." His voice broke on the last word, fading away.

She stood straighter, his words bolstering her. Yes, she'd known that, hadn't she? She'd sensed him holding back, for her, felt him trying to suppress that part of him—the wolf. She'd been glad for it because that side of him was an unknown and it scared her, but beyond her fear, there had been the spark of…disappointment, hadn't there? Disappointment at his restraint. And she understood what he was telling her. She couldn't have him in pieces. He'd spent his life surviving because of that wild, beastly part of him. To reject it would be to reject the very core of who he was.

"I want the wolf," she said softly. "I want you. I don't need you to hold back." It was the truest thing she'd ever said, she realized. She was willing to cast away any fear because she trusted him. There was no part of him she didn't want. Each piece of him had been hard won. Hard fought for, and she'd take them all.

He studied her, his eyes narrowing, watching. "Before I lived in that house, I lived in caves, Harper, or sometimes holes animals dug in the ground."

She raised her chin. "Good," she said. "Those places kept you warm."

He turned his head slightly, still studying her with such intensity, she began to shake. He took a step nearer, and she held her ground.

"Sometimes I was so starving I ate bugs . One after the other. I searched the ground for them, crawling on my hands and knees."

He watched, waited to see the disgust come into her eyes, she knew. Testing her. She swallowed, the picture in her mind—the knowledge of his excruciating desperation—hurting so much she wanted to fall to her own knees. She took in a breath, the vast respect—the immense love—she had for him filling every part of her soul. "Good," she whispered. "It kept you alive so when I walked into the sheriff's office that day, you were there. You were there."

He was silent for so long, she wondered if he'd speak again, wondered if he'd bring up one more horrifying element of his survival to try to determine if she really wanted what she was saying she wanted.

"The wolf is not like anything you know. He's wild, Harper. He's the very worst of me."

"Good," she said one more time, the intensity she felt wavering in her voice. "I want wild. I want you. All of you. The best and the worst and everything in between."

His eyes narrowed, and the air changed very suddenly, her awareness spiking, breath stalling. He was going to strike. Going to test the truthfulness of her words with action. Do it, she whispered in her mind, and his nose moved, very slightly as though he'd caught the scent of her acquiescence. Her need. They stared at each other, and she was trembling now, her entire body charged, her heart pumping blood through her veins, faster, faster. "I want wild," she repeated. She wasn't afraid. She would willingly surrender to him because she had faith in his goodness.

With a low growl, he stalked toward her, slowly, slowly. When they finally stood toe to toe, he moved quickly, grabbing her. She sucked in a breath. His mouth came down on hers, hot, demanding. He was holding nothing back, and a thrill spiraled within her, ending between her legs with a burst of wet pleasure.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the front of the empty house that wasn't his anymore, opening the unlocked door and kicking it closed behind him. The blanket he'd slept with for most of his life was still folded on the bed, and he threw it on the floor, pushing her gently so she was on her knees.

Her breath hitched, arousal hot and heavy in her veins as his body came over hers from behind, so much bigger, harder. He could hurt her if he wanted. No fear moved within her. Only breathless anticipation. He leaned over, his mouth close to her ear. "Do you want this ?" he asked, his voice gravelly in her ear.

"Yes," she moaned. It was the only word she could manage.

He tore at her clothes, the grunts and animal sounds coming from him making her lust spiral higher and higher. When he ran a finger through her wet folds, she thought she might come right then and there. She was panting, she realized, like an animal, like a woman being taken by the man she loved. This was mating. Elemental, ungoverned by any civilized laws or strictures. It was ordained by nature, by miracles, by the tides and the moon and the blood pumping in unison through their veins. Their bodies sang to each other, the same tune, melody and harmony, the notes pulsing, suspended around them.

He sniffed at her, licked her, his face probing between her thighs from behind as she gasped and moaned and clawed at the floor. Yes, yes, yes. She might have said it out loud. He was controlling this, she knew, and yet she'd never felt so powerful, so free. She let go, gave in to him completely. He was devouring her body, her soul, yes, tearing her apart, piece by piece by piece until she melted into him and they were one. This was how it should be, she knew it in her bones, in the echoing pleasure of women through the ages who had been loved and worshipped by their men.

She felt his hot naked skin at her back and, dazedly, glanced over her shoulder. His face was a mask of wild lust. The wolf . He had given in to the wolf, and she gloried in the knowledge that he trusted her enough to take him. To love him. To keep him.

His hands rubbed her breasts, fondling them, growling with reverence. Then his palms were moving over her rib cage, and his tongue found the spot that made her scream, licking, probing. She undulated her hips, rubbing herself on his face, begging for more. So close, so close. When he pulled away, a whimper escaped, a cry of frustration.

But as quick as that, his hardness was probing at her entrance, and the whimper melted into a deep groan of ecstasy.

He impaled her in one quick thrust, grunting his male pleasure loudly, the sound sending her over the edge before he'd even begun to move. To thrust. To take what was freely being given. And when he did, she came again, the pulsing bliss making her knees give out, her sobs mingling with his growls.

He grasped her around the waist to hold her steady, one hand gripping a handful of her hair to keep her from falling, pounding into her again and again as aftershocks of rapture shimmered through her. His fingers raked at her scalp, his arm clutched tightly around her, his hardness plunging into her mercilessly, his tight belly slamming against her backside. She was dying, dying a slow death of pleasure overload. The bliss. The euphoria. Him.

Their rhythm increased, his grunts growing louder, closer together until he howled with pleasure, gripping her hips, slamming into her, then slowing, slowing until it was only their mingled pants, the heat of their sweat-slicked skin. The sky and the earth and the ground beneath them, still moving, rocking, pulsing in the same gentle undulations as their bodies.

The world returned slowly, dreamily as though they had been awake and only now were falling back to sleep.

He turned her, his eyes probing hers, moving over her face, looking for…what, she didn't know. But whatever he found made his lips turn up, made his gaze gentle as he pulled her to him, nuzzling her neck, her hair, kissing her lips, licking the tears from her cheeks that she hadn't realized were there. "You're crying," he said, but he didn't sound upset.

"Yes."

"Female wolves cry when they find their forever mate," he said, smoothing her hair back.

She laughed softly. She was undeniably human—all too human most of the time—but maybe there was a thread of uninhibited wildness in her too. An instinctive recognition of her life mate.

He spent long minutes soothing her, loving her, kissing away her tears, nuzzling, nipping softly at her skin so that she laughed.

"I love you," she said, nuzzling him back. "All of you. Maybe the wolf most of all because he was the one who ensured you lived so you could love me when I arrived."

The look on his face was filled with joy; Harper laughed with happiness. "I love you too," he said. But then he went serious, his face falling. "They're going to lock me up, Harper. I have to…I have to pay for what I did to one of the other boys who was left out here."

"Oh, Jak, no," she whispered. "No one blames you for that. They saw the pictures, Jak. Agent Gallagher saw the video. They know what happened, that you were only defending yourself. No one's going to lock you up."

His eyes moved over her face for a moment as though he was having trouble believing her. "I'm not in trouble?"

"Of course you're not. You're the victim. The lone survivor." She smiled. "People will write books about you someday, and you'll be the hero."

He looked at her in wonder, the relief in his expression so stark that tears sprung to her eyes again. He'd thought they would lock him in a cage? He had been prepared to pay for killing the other boy. What immense guilt he must carry with him. Guilt that only belonged at the doorstep of one man: Isaac Driscoll. Whoever had killed him, she was glad he was dead. She would have been tempted to kill him herself if he wasn't.

She rolled in Jak's arms, wrapping the blanket more tightly around them. They were on the hardwood floor, his sticky release drying on her thighs, and she'd never been more comfortable and content in her life.

They nuzzled some more, kissed. She languished in the feel of his rough, scarred male skin against hers, the heat of him in the cold cabin, the delectable earthy masculine smell. After a minute, she looked into his eyes, the worry she'd had nudging her, needing to be voiced. There was only honesty now, only truth. What they'd experienced together left no room for anything else. "I worry that as you learn and grow and change…as you become the man you're meant to be, you'll…leave me behind." She lowered her eyes.

But he stroked her hair from her forehead and kissed her there, causing her to lift her chin and meet his gaze. "You think everyone you love will leave you behind."

"I…" She looked away again but then raised her eyes, unable to look away for long.

"I understand," he whispered. "People have left me too. Lied to me, betrayed me. I know I have a lot to learn about the world. But, Harper, I'm not a child. I'm a man, and I know who belongs to me and who I belong to." He looked straight into her eyes, her soul. "Did you know the trees speak to each other?"

"No," she breathed.

"They do. They tell secrets in their roots, those deep, dark places that can't be seen. I think we're like that too. We know things deep, deep down, secret things, ancient things, that whisper through us, one to the other. You whispered to me. And I whispered back. You heard, didn't you?"

Her heart beat with love for him, at the sweetness of what he'd said. "Yes, I heard."

He used his thumb to swipe at her cheek, bringing the happy tear to his lips and tasting it. She smiled, snuggling into him, drifting for a moment. She could fall asleep here, if she knew they didn't need to get back. If she knew they weren't essentially breaking and entering. "Mm," she hummed, pushing the real world aside for a moment, fantasizing about being able to stay there indefinitely just like that. They'd fall asleep for a while, wake and make love—the wild wolf or the gentle young buck, she didn't care. She wondered if she could call to the wolf inside him with a look, a movement, a touch. Beckon him. Make him mindless. A delicious shiver of anticipation trembled through her. Soon, she told herself. Always. But not today. Still, they had a few minutes, and she let herself relish it, snuggling in deeper to the warmth of his chest. "What you just said, about the trees, it made me think of something."

"Hmm," he hummed against her hair.

"When I woke up in the hospital as a child, I didn't remember much of anything. Just a couple of things. A few flashes of memory. I'd been angry with my parents, my mother specifically, because I'd gotten gum in my hair at school and she'd made me get it cut. It made me look like a boy." She laughed softly but then sighed. "The last thing I remember saying to her was that I'd never forgive her for it. I like to think she knew I was just being a bratty kid, but…" She took a shaky breath. "Anyway, the other thing I kept hearing in my head was this voice telling me to live. It was like a shout, a demand almost." She paused. "My father's voice maybe. Perhaps an angel, even God. I don't know." She tilted her head, looking up at him. He had stilled as he listened with rapt attention. "But it felt so… real. And that one word, it came to me again and again over the years when I wanted to give up. That demand. That…yes, that whisper. Deep down. It made me keep going, helped me hold on, helped me survive." Why was he looking at her like that? Like he'd just seen a ghost? "Jak? What's wrong?"

He removed the blanket from his shoulder, standing and walking naked to where he'd discarded his coat. She sat up, bringing the blanket to her chest, watching him, confused. He walked back to her and knelt down, holding out his hand. She looked as he opened his palm. A pocketknife. Old and… She picked it up, a feeling of deep gravity filling her chest…so worn it was practically coming apart. She knew this pocketknife, and she held it tightly, knowing what she would see on the back before she'd turned it over. Mother of pearl. "My father carried this in his pocket. Was it in the car? Is that where you got it?"

Jak shook his head, his eyes moving over her face like he'd just seen her for the first time. "Jak? What is it?"

"You gave this to me," he said softly, incredulously. "You put it in my hand."

"I…what? I don't understand."

"It was you. You went over that cliff with me."