Page 18 of Midnight Bond (Wolves of Midnight #5)

brIELLE

Jagger stood in the room’s center, still as stone except for the slight tremor shaking his hands.

I knew he was silently communicating with his wolf familiar, and although his expression didn’t change, I knew his emotions were everywhere. They were so intense that I could practically feel them, especially the anger. It was like an anvil repeatedly striking my chest.

“Why did he do it?” I asked, unable to bear the deafening silence a moment longer.

I’d been shocked and confused to learn that Jagger hadn’t been the one touching me—not consciously, anyway.

I knew from talks with Nora that the spirit entity residing inside a hybrid could take over their host’s human form, even speak through them.

I’d seen it for myself on more than one occasion, but I’d never thought Onyx would hijack Jagger’s unconscious body for the sole purpose of pleasuring me.

Still, try as I might, I couldn’t seem to feel any anger toward him.

Onyx was a part of Jagger, and if the wolf familiar wanted to pleasure me, then there was a good chance that Jagger wanted to pleasure me too. But Jagger clearly wasn’t okay with what had happened, and that made me wonder if he ever intended to pursue me in that way himself.

After several more tense moments, he finally crossed to a nearby chair and sat down with a defeated sigh.

Bowing his head, he ran a hand over his closely cropped hair before saying, “He saw how upset you’ve been today and wanted to comfort you.

His idea of comfort is . . . well . . .” He threw up a hand in frustration instead of finishing the sentence.

Oh. Oh. Onyx had touched me to make me feel better. But he’d obviously wanted me to think that Jagger had been the one doing it, not him.

Fiddling with one of my bracelets, I tentatively asked, “Does Onyx want me to be your mate?”

Jagger stilled, then slowly lifted his head. When our eyes met, it felt like all of the oxygen left the room. Even before he answered, I knew what he was going to say. “Yes.”

Something fluttered in my chest, making my heart begin to race. But one look at Jagger’s pained expression, and the feeling swiftly died. “But you don’t,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away.

An ache replaced the fluttery feeling, a tightness that made it impossible to breathe.

Even though he was only a few feet from me, he suddenly felt miles and miles away.

I’d been right, then. He might be attracted to me and tempted to steal a kiss, but he didn’t . . . he didn’t want me. Not as his mate.

I shouldn’t feel as hurt as I did. He’d been a pain in my butt for over a year and had ignored me for the majority of that time. But I suddenly felt gutted, like he’d stabbed a knife into my stomach and yanked all my innards out.

“Is it because I’m not a hybrid?” I blurted, unwilling to let this go so easily. To hell with my pride. I needed to know why I wasn’t good enough for him.

“What?” His gaze snapped back to mine. “No, of course not.”

“Is it because I’m willful? Because I talk too much?”

“No,” he said more forcefully, anger bleeding into his tone. “This has nothing to do with your character, Brielle. I admire those things about you.”

Surprise flickered through me, but I nudged it aside to press, “Then why? Why am I not good enough for you?”

“Brielle, stop. This isn’t about you.”

I ignored his warning, unable to stop now that we’d come this far. I had to know. I needed to. “Then why have you spent the past year watching me like a hawk? Why interfere with my life and learn so much about me? Why almost kill a guy for touching me?”

“Brielle, stop.”

“Why train me? Why protect me?” I went on, my voice gaining in volume with each word. “Why look after my wolf when I shift?”

“Brielle.”

“Why push me away over and over only to pull me close again?” I cried. “Why kiss me? Why, Jagger? Just tell me why.”

He exploded off his seat and roared, “Because you’re my soulmate!”

I almost fell over backward on the bed, entirely unprepared to hear those words leave his mouth. As I stared at him, shocked to my very core, instant regret filled his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting both hands to grip his nape. “I shouldn’t have . . . You weren’t supposed to know. But this trip. This blasted trip . . .”

Understanding slowly trickled in, and my stomach dropped. “Wait. You were going to keep this from me?”

When he didn’t respond, I stood to my feet, surprised that my body even let me. A tremble in my hands had quickly spread to the rest of me. Even my teeth were chattering.

Seeing the truth in his gaze despite his silence, a chill crept up my spine. Balling my hands into fists, I said, “How long have you known?”

Hearing the dangerous edge to my voice, Jagger stiffened, then lowered his arms. “Brielle . . .”

“How long?”

The question snapped through the air like a whip, and Jagger noticeably flinched. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, a sigh fled him and he replied, “Since before your first shift.”

I froze. Everything froze as I quickly did the math. That was . . . that was over a year ago. He really hadn’t planned to tell me, then, which could only mean one thing . . .

He didn’t want the bond. He’d rejected it.

The room suddenly tilted, and I was falling, falling, falling.

As I landed hard on the floor, Jagger lunged for me, but I yanked up a hand and barked, “No. Don’t touch me.”

He immediately halted, his face deeply etched with worry as I pushed myself into a sitting position. “Brielle,” he started, but I was suddenly done, the information I’d just received already more than my brain could handle.

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Not right now. I just . . . I need some time to process this. Please just go.”

Something squeezed my chest. Something painful. It came on so suddenly that I gasped and placed my hand over my chest, certain I was having a heart attack.

“Brielle.”

Jagger was beside me in an instant. But the moment I felt his hands on me, I lost it.

“No!” I screamed, shoving his hands away. “Go. Just GO!”

The pain in my chest intensified, and I curled forward with a strangled cry. Jagger reached for me again but stopped himself from touching me.

When he didn’t leave, I forced myself to straighten so I could look him dead in the eye and growl, “I swear, Jagger, if you don’t go right now, I will never speak to you again.”

He held my gaze for several moments, the pain I still felt in my chest mirrored in his eyes. Finally, he stood and turned for the door.

The second it closed behind him, I curled into a ball on the floor and let myself shatter into a million pieces.

* * *

He didn’t want me. He didn’t want me. He didn’t want me.

I repeated the words in my head the entire way back to the Rivers’ estate, forcing myself to accept the truth.

I had a soulmate. We were destined for each other by fate. And he didn’t want me.

But every time I repeated the words, the ache in my chest grew worse.

It was suffocating, a great and terrible weight that barely allowed me to breathe.

The only way I could survive the pain and hours-long drive across New York was by curling up in the backseat and pretending to sleep.

I knew it was pathetic, but I was in too much agony to care.

The snowstorm had stopped by mid morning, but it had taken until late afternoon for the plows to clear the roads. Kolton and Griff had arrived with the truck soon after that, and Jagger had helped them hitch up the Porsche to be towed.

The ride back was spent mostly in silence, but I knew the three males were still communicating.

They’d been friends—brothers—for over two decades and shared an exceptionally strong bond.

I could tell by the tension in the truck that they were worried about my catatonic state, but none of them questioned me when I curled up on the seat and stayed that way the entire trip back.

As we neared Lake Placid, Griff leaned forward and quietly said to Jagger in the front passenger seat, “Does she know?”

Silence greeted his words. I kept my eyes closed, still pretending to sleep. After a long moment, I heard Jagger murmur, “She knows.”

They could have been talking about anything, but I knew, just knew they were talking about the soulmate bond. Which meant that Jagger had told them about it. Which meant that they too had kept it from me. And if they knew about it, their wives probably did too.

My best friend had known that Jagger was my soulmate. And that. That. Made my shredded heart shatter all over again.

They’d known. They’d all known. And they hadn’t said a thing.