Chapter Eleven

A piece of Wyatt died while he listened to his mate tell her story. He’d known something had happened to her. He had never once imagined it had been this bad.

The woman in his arms was the strongest woman he’d ever known. And she’d finally trusted him enough to reveal her darkest day on Earth.

As she gripped him with her fists to hold on to some piece of reality, he held her as tightly as he dared without crushing her. She cried. She even screamed, letting the pain out. Her tears soaked his T-shirt, and her hair hung in matted clumps around her neck.

He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was swollen and red. Her eyes would be bloodshot. At one point in her frustration, she beat her fists against his chest, and then she gripped his shirt again, balling it in her small hands. Her body was wracked with deep horrifying sobs.

She cried for over half an hour.

He could do nothing but wait, holding her, stroking her hair, cupping her head with his palm. Giving her nonverbal reminders that he was there and would be for the rest of her life. The road ahead was going to be tough. There were hurdles.

For one thing, he knew for certain that Antoine Tarben had been her rapist. If he were honest, he’d known that from the moment she dropped the picture in Antoine’s parents’ home. He hadn’t wanted it to be true. He’d prayed for something else, anything else. But he’d known. And he needed to convince her to let him turn this in to the Arcadian Council. It wouldn’t change anything. Antoine was already in custody and would be for life, but there would be others who came forward, and the council needed to be informed each time.

Another hurdle would be the way she had shut herself off from the world. She had never dated. And he closed his eyes against the real possibility that her one and only sexual experience had been at the hands of a madman ten years ago. A painful experience that would have left behind its physical reminders for days and then its emotional reminders for years. Ten of them.

There was a good chance she had healed physically. She would have been fully grown at fourteen, and she had shifter blood to speed the healing process, but he couldn’t know for sure yet.

So many questions raced through his mind. What role had Gavin played? Wyatt had the impression Gavin knew the details, but how? And what kind of man let his friend live with that much pain without telling anyone?

Wyatt had known there was a distinct possibility that over time the town of Silvertip would discover Antoine had other victims, but finding out this sweet innocent woman who was Wyatt’s mate had been one of them was almost more than he could bear. How many more women had been tortured and raped by Antoine? Why did he never claim any of them, forcing them to bind? Forcing someone to bind was against Arcadian law, but so was rape. Antoine had proven he had no scruples. Why didn’t he bind to one of his victims along the way?

Perhaps he didn’t want to be strapped down to one person.

Perhaps he wanted to remain free to fuck and rape his way across the province.

Underneath all those thoughts and questions was another problem. How was Paige going to handle the stress when she found out she was not Antoine’s only victim? In fact, one of Antoine’s other victims was Wyatt’s brother Isaiah’s mate, Heather. It was going to be difficult for Paige to swallow that knowledge. Later. Not yet.

Wyatt shook the questions from his head, focusing on the woman in his arms as she slowly settled, her stiff body loosening. Her breaths evened out. Her fists released their tight grip. A sigh eventually left her lips. Finally, she slept.

He didn’t move. He would hold her while she slept, perhaps provide some comfort in her rest.

It was going to be difficult, a steep road ahead, but they would survive this. He would get her the help she needed, or if she refused, at least be the shoulder she needed for now. She probably thought no man could endure knowing that saga, but she was wrong.

She was his.

He would never leave.

Never.

For hours he held her, watched her breathe, felt her pulse, sheltered her small frame from the pain. The sun was peeking through the edges of the blinds when she stirred.

For a moment, she wiggled in his lap, and then her eyes shot open, and two seconds later, she bolted off his thighs and scrambled to put some distance between them. She gasped several times and settled on her ass next to him, staring at him, blinking, licking her lips. “How long was I asleep?”

“It’s almost morning,” he responded.

She glanced around, frantic. “Gavin. Oh God. He must be so worried.”

Wyatt reached for her but decided not to touch her yet. “He’s fine. I sent my mom over to tell him you’re okay.”

Her chest rose and fell, her eyes wider and wild. Finally, she lowered her gaze to her lap and blew out a breath. She shivered again. She’d been warm in his arms, but she was cold again now that reality was sinking in.

“How about if I draw you a bath? I have a fantastic tub with jets. You could soak awhile in hot water and work out the kinks.”

She nodded. “That would be nice.”

He slid off the bed and made his way to the bathroom even though he hated to leave her alone even for a moment. After stopping up the tub and starting the water, he returned. She still sat in the same position, staring at her lap and fidgeting with the edge of her pale pink shirt. It was wrinkled and askew.

Moving slowly so that he wouldn’t frighten her with sudden movements, he took her hand. “Come on. I promise you’ll feel better after a soak.”

She slid off the bed and let him lead her to the bathroom. He pulled a fluffy white towel from the linen closet and set it on the edge of the tub. After testing the water with his hand, he pointed to the opposite side. “There’re bubbles, but if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it,” he teased to lighten the tense mood in the room.

She simply nodded.

The only reason he owned bubble bath was because he’d purchased several items for her over the last few months in the hopes she would one day be in his home suddenly needing a toothbrush and shampoo. All of those things were present also, but he didn’t say anything. She would find them.

“Okay, I’ll leave you and go make coffee. If you need anything, just reach out to me.”

“’K. Thank you.” She didn’t make eye contact, but that didn’t surprise him.

He left the room, allowing her to have some privacy. She needed it before he hammered her with questions. She would need to wrap her mind around everything she’d told him and process how she felt. He would give her that.

He headed first to the hall bathroom and took a quick shower. When he returned to his own room in a towel to grab clean clothes, he could hear the soft roar of the jets in the tub.

Dressed in his usual jeans and a navy T-shirt with his brewery logo on the front, he headed next for the kitchen. He was tired. His body was stiff. It was going to be a long day, but he needed to make sure Paige was okay and that she understood where he stood—which was by her side all the way.

He started the coffee next and leaned against the sink to wait for it as his phone buzzed on the counter where he’d dropped it last night.

He recognized the number as a Calgary area code and answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Gavin.”

“Hi. Did my mom come over last night?”

“Yes. She was very sweet. Is Paige okay?”

“Yes. She’s in the bathroom right now. I’ll have her call you when she’s more alive.” He tried to sound light. Wyatt hardly knew her, but he knew enough to realize she wasn’t a morning person. That would not have escaped Gavin’s attention.

Gavin gave a short chuckle, but it was strained. “Good luck with that. It’s early. She doesn’t do early.”

“Yeah, I’m figuring that out.” As well as so many other things. It was awkward speaking to Gavin like this. After all, Wyatt was completely aware that Gavin wasn’t really Paige’s boyfriend. And, obviously, Gavin would also be aware he wasn’t her boyfriend. But the fact that neither of them had voiced this truth made it feel particularly awkward that Paige had clearly spent the night at Wyatt’s house—not with her fake boyfriend. Nothing could be more convoluted, and yet neither man mentioned the weird pile of facts.

There was a short silence before Gavin spoke again. “I’m worried about her. She’s…vulnerable. You’d tell me if something serious was wrong, right? She doesn’t stay out all night, Wyatt. Ever. I mean never.”

Wyatt softened his voice. “I know. And I’ll never take that for granted.”

Another pause.

Wyatt continued, “There are a lot of things that need to be said, but I’d rather not say anything behind her back, ya know? I mean, could you give me some more time to talk to her, and then I’ll let you have her?”

“Of course. I understand. As long as she’s safe. I don’t know you at all, Wyatt, but she’s the most important person in my life and always will be. I’m trusting you to do the right thing by her. I get a good vibe about you, and I’ve encouraged her to reach out to you repeatedly, so don’t make me regret that.”

“I promise.” Wyatt smiled. Gavin was a good man. He deserved happiness too. Wyatt hoped one day he could fix his own issues and live authentically. But for now, Wyatt was only concerned with Paige. “I’ll have her call you.”

“Thanks.”

Wyatt set the phone down and reached for the mugs, almost dropping one when Paige reached tentatively into his mind. “I would be forever beholden to you if you would bring me coffee.”

He chuckled into her mind. “On it. Can you smell it?”

“Yes. Light sugar. Light cream or milk or whatever you have.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He fixed her coffee and his own—black—and headed toward the master bedroom. The jets were still running behind that door, and he took a deep breath, wondering how the hell he was going to keep his dick under control knowing she was naked in his tub and covered with bubbles.

Tucking his mug between his forearm and his chest, he knocked softly. “You want me to bring it in?”

“Unless you want me to start shaking from lack of caffeine, yes.”

Damn.

He turned the knob and gave the door a little push before wrapping his fingers around his mug and entering.

She stared up at him from piles of bubbles. “Bless you.”

“If I’d known the way to your heart was through coffee, I would have pushed harder to get you to notice me months ago,” he teased, setting his mug on the counter and then handing her the doctored cup.

She took the coffee and sipped it tentatively to test the heat before moaning around several drinks. “Heaven.”

He smiled down at her, figuring his grin was too wide and goofy, but not caring.

She nodded to the side of the tub when she had finally apparently gotten enough sips in to come alive. “Why do you have women’s shampoo, soap, and bubble bath?”

He grinned even wider. “Yeah, I uh, bought them.”

She lifted a brow. “I would accuse you of inviting all sorts of random women over and pampering them in the mornings, except that none of these products has ever been opened.”

He reached for his coffee, took a sip, and then sat on one thigh on the edge of the tub. “Maybe I put out new ones every time I have a female guest.” He dipped the tips of his fingers in the bubbles and trailed them absently along the edge of the tub, not touching her, but making her suck in a breath. He pulled his hand back and wiped his fingers on his jeans.

When he met her gaze again, he found her staring at him, her bottom lip between her teeth, her expression serious.

He lifted his hand to her face and cupped her cheek. She flinched, but only for half a second before letting out a slow breath. Her hair hung in wet ringlets over her shoulders. It smelled like raspberries and vanilla, matching the picture on the bottle of shampoo. “I like that scent in your hair. Figured I would.”

She sank her teeth deeper into her bottom lip, her clear blue eyes wide as she tipped her head back to meet his gaze more fully. When she released her lip, her voice was gravelly. “When did you buy this stuff, Wyatt?”

“About three months ago.”

“I lived in Calgary three months ago. We’d met three times.”

“Ever the hopeful romantic, I guess.” He didn’t drop her gaze.

She lifted a hand out of the water and settled it over his at her cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

“And yet you have me anyway.”

Her eyes glanced back and forth between his, and she licked her lips.

If she didn’t stop running her tongue along those full lips, he was going to lose his chivalry. There were a lot of things he could handle, but that habit of hers was testing his control.

She squirmed in the water. “You better get out of here so I can dry off.”

He continued to look at her for several moments before releasing her face reluctantly and standing. “Breakfast?”

She shook her head. “It’s still nighttime in my world. I can’t eat yet. The coffee is fine for now.”

He nodded and backed out of the room.

His cock was harder than ever. Nothing was going to convince it to stand down. That entire exchange had shocked him. Where was the shy, sad woman who’d broken down in his lap hours ago? The same women who had wanted coffee bad enough to permit him to come into the bathroom while she was naked in his tub. He shouldn’t read so much into it.

He settled on the couch in the living room with more coffee, trying not to fidget while he listened to her rustling around in his bedroom. She made little noise, but shifters had above-average hearing.

When he realized she was in the room, he lifted his gaze.

And nearly dropped his mug.

She inched toward him wearing nothing but one of his white T-shirts. Her legs went on and on forever beneath the hem even though she was far shorter than him and the shirt reached halfway down her thighs. The points of her nipples were not hidden. He had no idea if she wore panties under the shirt, but that detail didn’t keep him from almost coming in his pants.

“I borrowed a shirt.”

He nodded. “I see that. And you’re welcome to anytime.”

She headed for his kitchen area with her empty mug while he watched the backside of her. Fuck him. This was above and beyond what Nature intended. Grizzly shifters could not be expected to endure this kind of torture and remain seated.

Her ass was fucking hot in the usual jeans he saw her in, but swaying beneath his shirt, it was sexy as hell. The shirt rose a few inches as she prepared another cup of coffee, and then she turned around and headed in his direction. She aimed for the corner of the sectional two feet from him and climbed up, tucking her legs under her and making herself look much younger than her twenty-four years.

Her hair was still damp and hung in long wavy curls around her shoulders, several locks dancing over her breasts. Drips of water landed on her shirt, not helping matters out at all.

He needed to adjust his stiff length but didn’t dare move an inch.

After a few seconds, she looked at him. “Sorry about last night.”

“Babe, don’t be.”

She nodded. “Still, that was a lot of detail. You weren’t expecting it.”

They needed to face this head on and get it out of the way, so he didn’t hesitate to bring it to the forefront. “And you weren’t expecting to walk into the Tarben home and find a picture of Antoine on the mantel, either.”

“Is that his name? Antoine? Beth said it, but I didn’t remember.”

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I never knew his name. He was just some guy in my mother’s class. I knew he was a shifter, but I didn’t even know he was from Silvertip.” She took a deep breath. “He’s in custody you said?”

Wyatt turned his body to more fully face her and inched closer. “Yes. Forever.” He set an arm on the back of the couch, his fingers extending closer to her shoulder but not touching. He held her gaze and took a deep breath. “We need to turn this in, babe.”

She lowered her gaze, nodding slightly.

“It won’t change anything, but the Arcadian Council needs to know for their records.”

“Okay.” Her voice was weak, understandably. When she lifted her face again, she swallowed. “It seems weird.”

“What seems weird?”

“I spent a decade keeping this secret, and now that I’ve told it, it no longer seems quite so horrifying to tell it again.”

“I’m sure that’s normal.” He ached for her so deeply it caused his chest to tighten.

“Will you call them for me? The Arcadian Council, I mean? I’m not ready to talk about this again yet, but I agree they should be informed.”

“Of course.” He lowered his voice. “Your parents deserve to know too.”

She nodded, dipped her face again, and whispered, “I’m really fucked up, Wyatt.”

“I know, babe. And we’ll get through it.”

Slight nodding. “I don’t want this to be your problem. It’s too much to ask.”

“You didn’t ask. And you’ll never have to ask me for anything because it’s already yours automatically. Anything you need. Anything I can give, I will.”

A tear was running down her cheek when she lifted her face. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what? Live your life? Move on? Love?”

Her eyes were so damn sad. “Yes.”

“We’re going to do it together.”

Another tear. He would endure so many more in the coming weeks because she needed to purge years of suffering in silence. “I’m not whole. I can’t be what you need. It’s not fair to you. I didn’t tell you all that because I wanted your sympathy. Or your help. I told you so you’d realize why I’m not emotionally available. I’m not right for you. I’m not right for anyone.”

He scooted closer, still not touching her, but close enough to reach out when the time was right. “You don’t have to be anything, Paige. You just are. And you’re mine. So, let’s get that part out of the way so we can move forward. There’s nothing you can say or do to make me turn away from you. It will never happen. And whatever you need from me, you’ll have it. Whatever time and space you need, it’s yours. We fight this demon together. Starting right now, it’s not yours to bear alone. It’s mine now too.”

She swallowed and wiped several tears from her face with her fingers. “Stop being so…perfect.”

He smiled. “I’m far from perfect, but I do my best.”

He let her sit in silence again. “I wasn’t alone,” she finally admitted.

“Gavin.”

She nodded.

“Is he the only one who knew?”

“Yes.”

“How did he know?”

“He arrived at the tree house as…Antoine was leaving. He saw him shift.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. As if that weren’t bad enough, he couldn’t even confront that weird new dimension in his world for a while because he had to deal with his best friend who was scrunched in the corner of the tree house naked from the waist down after being raped.”

“And you never told anyone? Why?”

Her voice was high pitched when she straightened her spine and spoke. “That fucker threatened my family, Wyatt. My best friend. I was a kid. I felt responsible for luring him there and flirting with him.”

“You realize you weren’t responsible, right?”

“Yes. But it took me several years to get there.”

“With no help?”

“I had Gavin.”

“He’s not a psychiatrist.”

“He could be for all the research he did on the subject.”

Wyatt nodded, trying hard not to be too critical of her best friend. “How did you get him to keep the secret? He’s so protective of you. I would think he would have insisted on getting you help.”

“He had his own secret. It was a trade. We made a deal.”

Ahhh. Now things were falling into place. “You already knew he was gay.”

“Of course. But no one else did. We were close. His parents…they would never support his lifestyle, so he hid it from them.”

“And you pretended the two of you were an item to keep people from thinking he was gay and keep men at arm’s length from you at the same time.”

“Exactly.”

Wyatt tried to process the depth of this knowledge and what it meant for the two of them. Paige had never been with a man in any way, shape, or form. Her only relationship was pretend. It meant his dick needed to stay in his pants for now.

“I don’t like to be touched, Wyatt.”

“I know.” He eased his fingers from the back of the couch to her cheek, brushing away the damp streak of her tear with the pad of his thumb. “But you’ve stopped panicking when I touch you.”

“Yeah, and it makes me feel strange. Even the first few times you touched me were weird.”

He smiled, remembering shaking her hand the night they met and then the contact of his fingers against hers next to his truck in the parking lot of Cuppa Joe. “You were so freaked out. You nearly ran from me the morning after we met.”

“Something happened that day. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to. I was there.” He smiled again.

She tipped her face into his palm again. “When you touch me, it soothes instead of making my skin crawl.”

“That’s a good thing.” Thank fuck.

“I’m not used to reacting to someone the way my body reacts to you.”

A broader smile he could not stop. “At least I’m not alone.”

She glanced away, face pink, embarrassed. “I can’t give you more though, and that’s not fair.”

Oh, she was so totally going to give him more. All the more. He just needed to be patient. “Have I asked for more?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid. If you’re as turned on in my presence as I am in yours, you must be…in pain.”

He chuckled, leaning his forehead closer until it touched hers, his hand still cupping her face. She never wore makeup, and she didn’t need it. She was so naturally gorgeous. He would probably drop dead of a heart attack if she looked any better. But this moment here, this raw open feeling of staring into her pure eyes and pink cheeks… Damn. “I can deal with a bit of discomfort, Paige.” He took her empty mug from her hand and set it on the end table without breaking their locked gaze.

Her gaze lowered to his lips.

He eased his thumb down to stroke over her bottom one, watching the way they parted at his touch.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” she murmured.

“Never.”

“I don’t think I’m fixable.”

“We’ll see.” He watched her mouth, mesmerized by her full pink lips.

And then she licked them again. Fuck me.

He pursed his lips and backed away from her face slowly.

She shocked him by grabbing his biceps and rising up onto her knees to crawl closer. “I think I’d like you to kiss me.”

He frowned, shocked. Such an about face. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s not like you haven’t been kissed before. I’ve seen you kiss Gavin.” He gave her a silly smirk.

She shuddered and scrunched up her face. “I’m betting it’s not the same.”

“Ya think?” he teased, setting his hands on her waist and fighting the need to moan around the feel of her so close to him. Her shirt was rising. If he glanced down, what would he be able to see? He didn’t glance down.

She released his biceps to cup his face. “I don’t want you to think I’m a tease. I can’t offer more than this right now.”

“You’re so not a tease. I’ll never think that. If you want to kiss, we’ll kiss. It’s a normal thing to do, Paige. People kiss all the time without expectations of more.” He grinned. “They don’t usually discuss it for ten minutes beforehand, but people kiss.”

“People aren’t us. I’m not naïve. I feel the pull. Parts of me are coming alive I didn’t know I had. There’s a knot in my stomach that won’t go away.”

He breathed heavily. Every inhale drew in her arousal. Yeah, there was much more than a knot in her belly. She was wet with arousal. Her nipples were puckered too. He could see them. Her damn breasts were full and high and pert for someone so tiny.

She inched closer until her knees were against his thigh and her chest nearly brushed against his. Too bad he didn’t have some sort of telekinetic ability to make their shirts disappear.

He lifted her slight body and set her sideways across his lap. His cock pressed into her thigh, but there was no way to avoid it. As she slid her hands down to his shoulders, he smoothed his up her sides with the intent of cupping her face and angling her head. His thumbs brushed past her breasts, driving him insane with the need to stop and wrap his fingers around them. He didn’t, but it cost him.

When he had her cheeks in his palms, he met her gaze. “No one’s ever died from a kiss.”

“I’m counting on it.” She was serious.

So was he.

He lowered his lips to hers, gently brushed them over her softer, fuller ones, and then when she opened her mouth slightly, he tipped his head to one side and deepened the kiss.

She sighed into his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pressed closer, loving the feel of her against him. Everywhere they touched. But especially her mouth. After a few seconds, when it seemed she wouldn’t bolt, he touched her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He then died two deaths when she responded in kind, her sweet taste filling his senses to overload as she tentatively met his tongue with her own.

He teased her, gradually dipping in farther until their tongues were fully tangled in the best kiss of his life. Best because the woman letting him inside was his mate and because she was so damn perfect.

She arched closer, her hands releasing his shoulders to curl up around his neck and burrow into the back of his hair. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he swore he could feel the hard poke of her nipples.

Lost in the perfection that was having his mate on his lap, open to him, letting him in, he never wanted this moment to end. It was the closest they’d ever been, and he would never forget this first tentative coming together. Maybe it was only a kiss, but it was so much more.