He watched as Sally walked from his room, closing the door gently behind her. He knew what she said was true. He had to fix this mess he had created. He needed his mate, needed her like a drowning man needed air. Sally spoke of Jacquelyn aching and his gut plunged to the ground. He knew that ache—it was his constant companion as well. His arms longed to hold her, his wolf needed to possess her and he needed to love her, to show her how desperately he loved her.
He didn’t know if he had pushed her too far, if she would forgive him. He didn’t know how to tell her about the madness inside of him. He didn’t know how to bear his weaknesses and shame to her, but he knew that if he didn’t he would destroy them both.
“Love, we need to talk,” he sent through their bond and pushed so that it penetrated the wall she was keeping between them. He felt her shock, and then the utter despair that filled her, rush through to him. “Please, Jacquelyn, come back so we can talk.”
He held his breath, waiting for her answer, praying it wasn’t too late.
“It’s about damn time,” she growled at him.
He nearly fell to his knees and wept as she reminded him of who she was. She was his and she wasn’t giving up on him.
“No I’m not giving up on you, but I just might kill you.” She was coming to him; he could feel her getting closer.
“If dying by your hand means I can feel your touch, then you can kill me a thousand times.” He knew his words sounded as fraught as he felt.
“Don’t tempt me.�