Page 52 of Someone Else's Wolf

I didn't have the words to set it right, to assure him, to comfort him, to explain what I felt. I was practically in tears myself.

"Come here. It doesn't matter — it doesn't. Come here."

He moved into my arms and let me hold him close, for a long time. He hid his face against my neck and cried hard, hurting, shamed sobs he couldn't hold back. I held on tight and didn't let go.

#

Peter stayed with me. After Sue got the parole officer in question involved, Peter's mate, whose name turned out to be Jeffrey Falst, was incarcerated for disturbing the peace, violating his parole, and domestic violence. He was also in possession of several substances that weren't allowed by his parole, along with everything else.

I don't know how Sue got Peter to agree to testify about the domestic violence part of it, but I couldn't have — and I wouldn't have tried. Peter needed to hide and lick his wounds, and telling the police about being punched a couple of times, or smacked around — much less letting a doctor record evidence of it — was something he shrank from. I wanted to stop Sue, wanted to fight the whole world for Peter. But he agreed to do it, and it helped put Jeffrey away, a volatile creature more animal than Peter would ever be, back in the cage where he belonged.

Once the worst of it was over, Peter didn't know what to do with himself. Even with the house his again, most of his belongings rescued, and a few repairs made, he didn't want to be there alone.

"It doesn't feel like my place anymore," he confided one night in bed with me, at my home, while I held him close. "It feels like it's his now, the way everything else became his."

For a long time, Peter had felt like every part of him — his life, his belongings, his body, his money, anywhere he lived — was really rightfully Jeffrey's, or at least that Jeffrey could do whatever he liked with all of it.

After his mate was put away, for the first time in a long time, he had some breathing room, some space and time in which to decide what he wanted to do with his life. At first, he hadn't known what to do with himself. Who he wanted to become. But gradually he started to build a life: new skills, a new job, and finding a partner who accepted him as he was. He found a house, spent time on his hobbies — and fell for a guy he met at work, a really great-smelling guy he liked far too much.

Even though (obviously) he had a mate, and that was where his loyalty would always lie, he certainly enjoyed spending time with that guy, and was secretly grateful for the life he had without a volatile mate, and the need to constantly move, hiding from debtors and shady partners in deals gone wrong — and the roughness and volatility of the relationship itself.

He was the strong one, of course; he was a wolf. He was at least twice as strong as his non-shifter mate. So, it would be silly and wrong to complain about any violence, wouldn't it? After all, if he was willing to hit back, he could send Jeffrey through the wall, and then he'd be the violent one, wouldn't he?

Nobody would believe a wolf was the abused half of a relationship — nobody.

If you try to leave me, I'll say you hit me.

You should know better than to talk to me when I'm angry.

If you weren't so stuck-up and frigid, we wouldn't be in this situation, now, would we?

You made me do it.

You know you love me, baby.

I'm sorry. You know I never meant to hit you, or break your things, or say that. I just get these rages.

You shouldn't take it personally. You know I didn't mean it like that.

Why are you so literal about everything? You're just a wolf. There's some things you don't get. That's why you need me to guide you.

What's wrong with you? You're an idiot. You couldn't survive without me, and you know it.

It's you and me against the world. You can never leave me. If you try, I'll make you sorry.

You're mine, and you know it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Of course everything took longer than it should have. The legal things, and the other things, that is. Peter didn't sleep very well. His sleep patterns seemed entirely different from when we were together while Jeffrey was in jail. Then he'd slept peacefully, often with his arms and legs draped over me possessively.

Now, on the nights when we didn't fall asleep entangled with each other, he slept with his back against the wall, curled defensively around himself, and he slept lightly. He woke multiple times a night, often muttering or blinking away troubling dreams. It took a while for him to remember that he was safe now.

Of course, he had no reason to believe that I would (or could) protect him from now on. But he still liked hearing it, and maybe someday he'd find out it was true.

There was always the possibility that Icouldn'tprotect him. If they let Jeffrey out again, and if he really wanted to, he could probably find a way to kill one or both of us — depending on his level of commitment to that idea. (I didn't share this thought with Peter; he didn't need more to worry about!) I would be armed and well-informed about Jeffrey's incarceration status for the rest of our lives. That was just how it was.

One thing that would definitely not happen, though, was me stepping back and letting Peter return to that abusive relationship and walk away as if I had no say in it. It was my business now; Peter was my business, and I wasn't going to let him go back to Jeffrey without a fight, no matter how many guilt trips and rages his mate went into.