I’m the hollow man.

What was that stupid T. S. Eliot poem they made us read in high school? I can’t believe I remember it. I seriously can’t. I remember very little from high school, but for some reason, that poem is what surfaces now.

Because I’m a lovesick fool, I look it up on my phone.

This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper.

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. No wonder that poem surfaced. It’s the same depressing bullshit I’m feeling right now.

It’s been five days since I drove away from Angelina’s parents’ house. Five sleepless nights. One hundred twenty hours logged in the warehouse, making everything goddamn perfect for Angelina.

Is it ironic that I still need to help her even though she won’t remember me? Won’t know why I’m doing it?

That I loved—no, love, present tense—her?

Because Garrett’s sent the order to have her wiped. He was patient at first—gave me a few days to make certain I wasn’t going to change my mind. I refused to talk about what happened between us with any of them—even Trey. All I said was that it was for the best.

This is the way things have to be. Angelina’s dad was right. I have nothing to offer their beautiful rising star. I would only drag her down.

A nightclub bouncer who uses his fists more than his brains? I’m nothing compared to her.

So yesterday Garrett came over to the warehouse and picked up a paint roller and a can of paint and helped me paint the entire set black. Then he told me it had to be done and asked how I wanted it taken care of.

Trey was there and offered to take care of it, which was a relief. Because he’s the only guy I trust and there’s no way I can handle that shit. I guess I’m a fucking coward.

I didn’t ask when it was going to go down. I really don’t want to know. So long as it’s done by the next time I see her. Because I only want to see happiness on that girl’s face. If I see any more pain, I’m going to tear the roof off this fucking row of warehouses.

I still don’t know how I’ll present the warehouse to her. Maybe just chat her up at the club and mention I stumbled on a great performance space and I think she should check it out.

And that thought feels about as good as getting hit by train. Or a car. No, I’d get hit by Angelina’s car again in a heartbeat. I’d groundhog that day over and over again because it was the night I finally got to kiss her. To touch her. To make her scream in pleasure.

She’s still my mate. Even if I can’t have her. I will watch over her and protect her until the day I die. Even if it means watching her take some human asshole for a husband. I’ll be goddamn happy for her as long as she’s happy.

And I’ll do whatever I can to make sure her dreams are fulfilled.

Even if that means sacrificing my own chance at happiness. My own future with a mate and pups.

I don’t care.

As long as Angelina doesn’t get hurt.

* * *

Angelina

I drive home from rehearsal and park my car in front of my place.

I don’t know how I’ve managed to get up in the morning. To get myself to school. I’m like the walking dead. I can’t eat. Don’t sleep. I pick up my phone and stare at it, hoping to see something from Jared, but it never comes.

I tried him a few times at first. I apologized for my dad’s behavior. Told him I didn’t feel the same way and I really needed to see him. But he didn’t text back.

So I guess I know where I stand with him. We’re done.

And that thought makes me throw up. I get out of the car and wretch, but nothing comes up.

Ugh. Between not being able to eat and throwing up every time I realize it’s over with Jared, I’ve already lost five pounds.

That should make my mom happy.

But no. I’m done with my mom. Done with my dad. I wouldn’t say this is exactly their fault, because I’m adult enough to own my part in it. If I didn’t let my parents run my life, Jared would’ve known their disapproval wouldn’t sway me from our relationship.

But I did let them run my life.

I let them choose my career. My appearance. My college. Even my friends, to some extent—at least in high school. But no more. They’re not choosing my boyfriends.

They don’t get any say on who I date. Who I sleep with. Who I marry. If I want to marry a drug-dealing gangster with gold teeth, they’ll have to deal or lose their relationship with me. If I choose to marry a woman, they’ll deal. If I choose anything at all that offends them, that’s their damn problem.

And I’m not going there for Sunday dinners anymore, either.

It’s time for me to live my life for me.

I enter my house, cringing at all the memories that crowd me the moment I walk in. Jared, chasing me down the hall. Holding me on his lap on the couch. Bringing home takeout. Jared laughing. Listening. Paying so much attention to me.

A knock sounds at the door and for one half-second, I imagine it might be him. My heart leaps and soars before I remember it can’t be him. He’s cut me loose.

I peek through the pinhole. It’s Jared’s friend Trey, another bouncer at the club. The guy with thoughtful eyes and a pierced lip.

I open the door, not surprised to see him. I figured one of their pack would be coming by sooner or later. “Hey.”

Trey appears uncomfortable. “Hey.”

“You here to wipe my mind?” I see a flicker of relief in his expression, but he quickly takes on a sincere look.

“Not your mind. Just a few memories.”

“No, take them all. I don’t want to remember Jared even exists.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

Jared gave up on us. He abandoned me. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him for that. Good thing I won’t have to.

Surprise flickers over Trey’s face and a trace of something else. Anger? “Yeah?”

I shrug, grinding my teeth to keep down the swell of emotion threatening to flood through me. I don’t want to cry in front of Trey. I just need this all to be over. “Yeah.”

Trey won’t let it drop. He’s definitely gone cold now. He steps aside and waves me out of the house, but as he trails me to the Range Rover parked in front, he says, “You’re mad at him, huh?”

My nose burns, eyes prick. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I can’t keep the tears out of my voice.

He stops and leans against the car, studying me. “Did you break it off with him or him with you?”

A tear falls and I curse and wipe it back. “None of your business.” If Jared didn’t tell him, I’m sure as hell not going to.

His jaw tightens. “Actually, it is kind of my business. Jared’s my best friend. He’s been killing himself for the past two weeks trying to make himself worthy of you, but I guess it wasn’t enough.”

The accusation stings. So much more than I would’ve thought possible. It’s like a freaking javelin’s gone through my chest.

Tears spill from both my eyes, tracking down my cheeks. “That’s not true.”

“Do you know about the gym?”

I shake my head, biting my lip to keep Trey from seeing it wobble.

“He’s started coaching underprivileged kids in boxing. Says he wants to use his talents to give back to the world. Something about being a modern day warrior or knight.”

My heart lurches, tightens with overwhelming tenderness. Teaching boxing to underprivileged kids? He’s a freakin’ saint. Talk about heroes. But I never needed that from him. He was already a hero. “That’s so amazing. But I never asked him to change for me.” I need Trey to know that.

Trey’s face remains stony. “Have you seen the other warehouse?”

I shake my head and mop the tears with my hands.

He opens the door for me. “Get in. I’m going to show you first. You ought to know what you’re giving up before you wipe him out of your existence.”

My temper flares. “I’m not wiping him.” I poke his chest with my finger, even though I know he could crush me with flick of his hand. “He’s the one who gave up on us. I guess I didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to me.”

Trey’s expression dissolves into sympathy. “Come on.” His voice is more gentle now. “I really have to show you something.”

I get in the vehicle and fish a tissue out of my purse to blow my nose.

Trey drives us to the same warehouse where I saw the fight. Sure enough, in the daylight, I can see a freshly painted sign on the warehouse on one end—Boxing Gym. The warehouse in the middle is where I saw the fight.

But Trey leads me to the warehouse on the other end. He unlocks the door and I step into… a dance studio?

It is—a perfect dance studio, complete with mirrors and a hardwood floor. Barres on the freshly painted walls.

“Wh-what is this?” I whisper.

Trey doesn’t answer. He just beckons me through the door at the end, which leads to another space.

My mouth drops, fresh tears blur my vision. It’s my performance space. Exactly the way I sketched it. No—better. The stage is up against one wall, and ropes and silks hang from the ceiling for aerial dance. An entire row of black movable flats are lined up against another wall, waiting to shape the space into smaller quadrants.

Someone comes in the door at the other end and freezes.

Oh God. It’s Jared. He looks terrible--haggard and pale. Just seeing him makes a fresh gash across my chest.

“Angelina?” he clears his throat. Looks at Trey quizzically.

He doesn’t know whether I’ve already been wiped. That he would let that happen to me comes as a fresh betrayal and I march right over to him and slap his face. Just like I did the first time he tried to wipe me.

“Angelina.”

“How dare you give up on us, you asshole! You care about me. You did all this—” I throw my arms wide and take another sweep of the incredible space—“for me. But then you’re just going to send me off with your buddy to forget about you? How could you? I loved you, Jared. I. Love. You. Even if you wiped my mind a thousand times, I’ll still love you. My heart knows who it belongs to. So if you’re so fucking stupid you want to give up just because my parents are close-minded assholes, then you’re not the hero I thought you were. You’re—” I splutter off because truly, even as angry as I am, I’m incapable of insulting him. Nothing fits. He’s my everything.

And then I see something that makes my world spin and dumps me on my head.

Jared’s blinking back tears.

My Jared. The strongest man in the history of the world. Crying. Over me.

I throw myself at him, legs around his waist, clinging like a burr. “Please don’t let me go,” I plead, my face wet against his neck.

He drops to his knees. “Never.” His voice is fierce. “I’ll never fucking let you go. I’m sorry—I’m an idiot. My head got wedged. I thought I was doing you a favor. I never want to hurt you, baby. Not ever.”

I pull away and slap him again. Not hard, because he’s too close to get a good swing. It falls like a love-slap. A tenderness between us. “You did hurt me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I press my forehead up against his, roll our heads together. “You’d better be.” I’m still crying, but it’s turning into the laughing kind of tears now.

“Baby, you have to know what this means. If I mark you, you’re mine for life. Do you understand? And you become part of the pack—sworn to secrecy under penalty of death.”

I nod, happiness bubbling up like a fountain of goodness. “Yours for life sounds perfect.”

“Are you sure? You’re pretty young to make that—”

I smack him again, definitely a love slap this time. “Don’t you go questioning my life choices too.”

He laughs. “I love you.”

“Ditto.”

“Come on.” He stands up, still holding me wrapped around him. “I need to make you mine right now. Before my chest explodes.”

“Sounds good to me.”

I look around, but Trey has tactfully disappeared. I owe him a huge thank you for bringing me here instead of to the vampire. I mean huge. Like, I should name our first child after him.

“Will we have shifter babies?” I ask as Jared carries me outside to his car.

He laughs, bouncing me higher on his hip.

“Depends. Some halflings can shift, some can’t. Some females do if they get pregnant with a shifter—the baby’s DNA tips the scales.”

“I hope we have baby werewolves.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he promises. “I will love them either way.”

“You’d better.” I bite his ear.

* * *

Angelina

I’m shaking by the time we get back to my place—not out of fear. Out of desire. Excitement.

Jared’s going to mark me.

I don’t even care if it hurts.

He peels off his shirt the second he walks in my door, then kicks off his boots. I shriek when he throws me over his shoulder and carries me down the hall to my bedroom. He eases me to my feet and pulls my shirt over my head.

“All your clothes off. Now.” He uses a bossy tone that’s new. I’ve heard commanding with a teasing flavor but never this. Now his deep rumble carries dark promise.

Shivers thrill through me as I strip off my clothes and stand naked before him.

His eyes change to yellow. Beautiful, beautiful wolf.

Slowly, he unbuckles his belt, keeping his gaze locked on me.

A hint of fear surfaces, but it only increases my arousal. Is he going to whip me like he promised he’d do if I ever made him jealous?

Oh God. I hope so.

He pulls his belt from the loops and doubles it, slapping it lightly into his palm. I jump a little.

“Go get me your tights. Four pair.”

Four pair of tights? What could—oh. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to do with them and the flutters of excitement launch. I fumble with my dresser drawer and pull out a bunch of tights.

He takes them and lifts his chin toward the bed. “On your tummy. Spread eagle.”

Oh God, yes.

I scramble up on the bed and spread my arms and legs wide. Using the tights, he ties my wrists to the headboard, my ankles to the footboard. Then he shoves a pillow up under my hips to raise my ass.

All this time he hasn’t touched me and my every nerve is on edge, my senses heightened. I’m dying for his touch, desperate for it.

“Jared?”

There. He strokes between my legs. A shiver races up and down my spine.

“You’re awful wet for a little girl who’s about to get spanked.”

My pussy clenches. Yes, please.

“I need to spank you, do you know why, sweet angel?”

“Why?” My voice wobbles.

“To get your ass all warm and ready for your marking.”

I lift my head, slightly confused. “You’re going to mark my ass?”

“Yep. I’ve spent many hours trying to figure out where and how to mark a human. I can’t hit a vein and I don’t want to leave a scar others would see. And I know how much skin you show when you perform. That doesn’t leave me many options. It came down to breasts or ass. You know I’m an ass man. I love this juicy ass.” He squeezes my cheek roughly and I roll my hips.

“So I’m going to warm that perfect ass with my belt. Then I’m going to fuck you long and hard. You’re going to wait to orgasm until I give you permission. Understand?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He growls his approval. “If it’s too much, baby, just say stop. I’ll never take you somewhere you don’t want to go. Okay?”

I wiggle my butt. “Stop talking and start spanking.”

“Mouthy.” He winds the buckle end of the belt around his fist until the length shortens to about a foot and a half. “Just for that, I’m going to whip your pussy, too.”

I shriek and try to move my legs together, but I can’t. He’s tied them wide open. I pull and tug on all my bonds, loving feeling captured by him. At his disposal.

He slaps my ass lightly with the leather—more like a kiss than a real stroke. He continues, his strokes gradually getting harder, delivering a sting that makes me clench my cheeks and jump.

It’s still not pain—just delicious sensation. He starts to pick up speed, slapping the underside of my buttocks, the backs of my legs. I hump the pillow, growing frenzied with need.

“This ass belongs to me now,” he says. “I hope you understand that. I’m the guy who gets to spank it. Fuck it. Spank it again. I’m the guy who’s going to punish you, night after night, just for having an ass this juicy.”

I moan.

“I’m the only guy who’s going to make you scream. Who gets the pleasure of watching you reach orgasm. Over and over again, if I decide.”

I rub my bare breasts over the bedspread, grind my clit down into the pillow. I need relief. Now. “Please, Jared,” I whimper.

“Not until I say, baby.” The warning is firm and I love when he plays stern with me.

He stops to shuck his jeans and boxers. I’m certain he’s going to claim me now, but instead he straddles my waist, facing my ass. He palms my cheeks roughly and spreads them wide. “There’s that tight little hole that makes me crazy. I’m not going to take you there tonight, baby, but you’re going to get that ass fucked often. Every time I see those hips swaying. Those thighs that just beg me to part them and bury my tongue in your sweet spot.” He rubs said sweet spot and I buck beneath him. “But I believe I promised you a pussy whipping.”

“Oh,” I moan, not sure how I feel about a real pussy whipping. With a belt.

But of course Jared knows how to do it. He taps the flat of the leather between my legs, then swings lightly.

It’s delicious.

“More.”

“Greedy girl.” He whips me again. And again.

I moan and wiggle, rolling my hips, trying to get satisfaction. He stops and rubs my slit with his fingers. “I’ll bet you’re hungry for my cock.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl. I love it when you call me daddy.” He changes position and I hear the snap of the foil packet telling me he’s putting on a condom. Then he’s there, between my legs. Right where I’ve needed him since the moment we got to my place.

He teases me, rubbing the head in my juices but not entering.

“Please.”

He groans and eases in. “Baby, I’m not gonna be gentle. I’ve been trying to reconcile myself with never getting to claim you again, and now that I have you under me—” He withdraws and slams in. If I weren’t tied snugly to the bed, I would’ve gone flying forward.

It’s a wonderful sensation of support—like my bonds are in place to make this more pleasurable for me, rather than to keep me captive.

Jared plants his fists beside me on the bed and pummels my ass with his loins. Every stroke evokes more satisfaction than the next until I’m a moaning, desperate woman. Harder, faster he pumps. My natural juices make me so slick that he glides in with ease even though it’s rough and demanding.

I claw the bedspread, certain I can’t wait another second.

Jared plunges deep and roars. “Now, angel!”

My body responds before my brain has even processed the command. As my pussy squeezes his cock in quick pulses, pleasure radiates through my entire body. Jared pulls out before I’m ready, but then his fingers replace his cock and his teeth sink into the meat of my left buttcheek.

I bite the bedspread to keep from crying out. I won’t lie—it stings. But the finger-fucking and my finishing orgasm gives it a sexual edge that makes it register as erotic titillation rather than pain.

He unclamps his hold on me and eases off, licking the wounds.

My pussy clenches around his fingers with the last of my orgasm.

Jared kisses up my back to my neck. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes. Totally.” I don’t want him to worry. “Am I yours now?”

“You’re mine.” There’s a pride in his voice that makes my head swim with happy delirium. He works to untie the knots on my tights and free me and then I’m cradled in his lap, a cool washcloth held against my wounds.

His eyes are a clear green—the yellow completely gone and his gaze is sharp and alert, traveling over my face, watching me.

My head swims. It’s not an unpleasant sensation—more like I had too much too drink. “I feel a little funny,” I confess.

He strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “There’s a coating on my teeth—the serum I embed in your skin—it drugs you a bit. It should wear off soon.” His brow furrows.

“It’s okay. I like it. But it makes me horny. Is it safe to have sex again?”

* * *

Jared

My girl needs my tongue between her legs all night long. By morning, the wounds are closed enough that I let her ride my dick with her on top, my hands on her hips to help.

She can’t get enough.

Even after her third orgasm since waking up, she has the glazed eyes of a nympho. I would call Trey to ask if this is normal when a human gets claimed, but I figure this is a problem I can handle on my own.

You know, it’s a tough job, but one I’m willing to take on. It is my duty and all. Hell, yeah.

She ends up divulging that she keeps a couple vibrators, so I tie her to the bed and stuff both holes full.

“Do not orgasm until I give you permission, little girl.”

Her frantic gaze follows me, but she nods. “I’m going to keep you like this. Let it build. Maybe if we wait, and your orgasm is strong enough, it will satisfy you for more than a minute.”

She whines and tugs at her bonds.

I tug both her nipples, pinch and roll them, watching her expression. It’s only pleasure. Only desire.

“Please, Jared. I’m ready now. Let me ride you again.”

I give a firm shake of my head. “You can beg me, baby. I love it when you beg. But I’m not going to relent. You need this tension to build.”

I lean over and suck her breasts, stroking every inch of her body until she thrashes and cries. “Please, please, please, please, Jared. I need you. I need you so much. I need you now. You have to let me. I need to come. Please, Jared.”

My cock is harder than stone, but I have to pick another position where she’s on top. I untie her and remove the vibrators, then let her straddle my waist, sitting up on the edge of the bed. She lowers herself onto my sheathed cock with a hoarse groan.

Beautiful girl.

There’s no warm-up. She pumps her hips like her life depends on it.

“That’s it, angel. Take what you need to take—”

“May I?” she croaks.

“Almost.” I put a hand at her lower back and help her take me deeper on each in-stroke. My own orgasm is right at the surface, too, my thighs flexing, balls tight.

“Jared,” she pants. I think she’s going to beg again, but she says, “I love you. You’re mine forever, too. Mine, mine, mine.”

I roar and come, almost forgetting to give her permission. “Come, angel!” I shout and she does, in a silent but cataclysmic release, her entire body shuddering with the explosion.

Afterward, she falls into my arms, limp and trembling. And then she’s asleep. My girl finally got enough and can rest. I settle her into her bed and curve my body protectively around her.

“Sleep, angel,” I murmur, kissing her hair.