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CHAPTER ELEVEN

ELENA

For a long moment, the only thing I hear is the sound of my own breathing and the distant whoosh of cars on the highway. The air is cool enough that I can see Jake’s breath as his wolf pants and chuffs.

“Are you hurt?” I whisper, stepping toward him with my hand outstretched.

It feels unbelievably stupid, approaching a wounded wolf, but this is Jake. My heart trusts him in a way that my mind can’t comprehend.

As I bury my fingers in his silky fur, Jake goes utterly still. He doesn’t move as I caress his back, carefully avoiding the matted patches of fur that are sticky with blood.

It’s strange, touching his body with such abandon when I wouldn’t dare do the same to him in human form. Jake closes his eyes when I reach the side of his long neck, and his mouth opens in a contented pant.

Then I remember that Carmen’s wedding guests aren’t the only ones staying at the hotel.

I glance around, but thankfully there aren’t any humans staring in horror at the giant wolf on the terrace.

Of course, that says nothing of any guests who might have been looking down at the gardens from the upper stories.

Jake seems to be thinking along the same lines, because he shakes and starts to shift back into a man.

Bone and muscle reshape themselves, skin blanketing the area where fur once was.

It doesn’t matter how many times I see a wolf shift; I’ll never get used to the strange beauty of the transformation.

Panic grips me when I see Jake’s naked body sprawled out on the terrace, but my eyes snag on a long bloody gash just below his left armpit.

“Are you all right?” I huff as Jake finishes the change. His eyes are closed in a slight grimace, and I remember that a wolf’s body is extra-sensitive after the shift.

“Fine,” he grits out, opening his eyes. “It’ll heal faster with the shift.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

I roll my eyes. “Defend my honor . . . again .”

“Oh.” Jake shakes his head. “You were doing a fine job defending your honor all on your own. I was just ripping into Derek because he’s an asshole.”

I snort.

Jake chuckles but winces when the motion pains some injury he’s downplaying. He hasn’t moved from his position on his side, and I keep my eyes trained on his face.

Jake’s smile fades, and he shakes his head. “When I saw you walk out here with him, I thought . . .”

My heart takes so long between beats that I worry it might stop altogether. The wind has gone from the trees, and I don’t even dare to breathe. “You thought what?”

Jake’s rough exhale tickles my knee. “I thought you and he came out here to . . .” He trails off and scratches the back of his head. “Anyway, I . . . I guess I got jealous. I followed you out here to make sure he didn’t try anything, and . . .”

Then he overheard.

But my mind gets caught on what Jake said about being jealous, and my heart resumes its frantic gallop.

“You were jealous?” I repeat, unable to stop the slow smile that’s spreading across my face. I take a deep breath. “I didn’t think . . .”

“Didn’t think what ?” Jake’s question comes out so sharp that I really don’t know how to respond.

All this time, I’d thought Jake was just being protective for Rafael’s sake — that he didn’t like Derek near me for the same reasons my brother didn’t. But maybe I was wrong.

I shake my head. “Never mind,” I mumble. “It was a really long time ago.”

Jake’s eyes flash, and for a moment, they look almost wolfish again.“What was?”

I take a deep breath, my cheeks burning. “My sixteenth birthday,” I say in a huff. “I didn’t think you even liked me after . . . after what happened.”

Jake’s gaze softens, and he reaches for my hand. Despite the fact that he’s lying naked on a cold slab of stone, his rough fingers are warm around my cold ones. His other hand plays with the bracelet. “You mean when you kissed me and I pushed you away?”

His voice is so low it’s barely a whisper .

“Yeah.” My cheeks are hot, and I have the sudden urge to pull away. I feel stupid for even bringing it up. “Like I said, it was a really long time ago.”

“I think about that night all the time,” he admits, looking at the ground.

“What?”

Jake nods.

“Why?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He’s silent for such a long time that I think he might try to avoid answering the question. But then he looks back at me, squints, and breaks into a rueful grin. “Because it was the best night of my life — and also the worst.”

I suck in a breath.

“The kiss was the best part,” he adds in a hurry. “Just in case that wasn’t clear.”

My heart gives an erratic thump. For a long moment, neither of us moves or breathes. Each second feels as though it could hold a lifetime. “And the worst?” I whisper.

“Pushing you away,” he says, his grin morphing into a scowl. “It . . . wasn’t easy.”

“Then why did you?” I ask, my voice low and breathless. It might be ancient history, but I need to know. That sad girl inside me needs to know.

Jake’s brows knit together. “Lena, you were sixteen. I was twenty-one. It wouldn’t have been right.” His expression grows thoughtful. “Besides . . . you were Raf’s little sister. If I’d had a sister your age and Raf went after her, I’d fucking kill him.”

“But you . . . wanted to kiss me,” I say slowly. For some reason, it feels important to clarify that part .

Jake makes an aggravated noise in his throat and tugs his hand out of mine. He looks away, and for a second, I think I’ve made him angry. A muscle works in his jaw as he gnaws on the inside of his lip.

“I wanted to kiss you that day and every day since,” he whispers. Then he drags in a strangled breath and turns to me with a pained look in his eyes. “It’s always been you, Lena. You’re my fated mate.”

My heart skips a beat at those words, then revs into overdrive. I’ve heard of fated mates from Carmen and other shifters who ran in our circle, but the way Jake says it makes my entire body come alive. I somehow forgo the need to breathe.

Jake reaches for my hand again, twining his fingers through mine.

“Lena, I never want you to think . . .” His eyes are swimming with concern when he meets my gaze, and I feel the weight of his shame.

“You should know that my feelings weren’t romantic until that night.

For years, I just felt protective of you.

I thought it was because you were Raf’s little sister.

Even after you kissed me, I never let myself think of you that way.

It felt wrong, but . . .” He shakes his head.

“It was never wrong, Lena. I know that now. The love I felt for you then . . . what I feel for you now . . . there’s nothing purer than that. ”

Hearing those words, my heart is so full that it feels as though it might burst. Jake loved me — might still love me. And he thinks I’m his fated mate?

In this moment, there are no words. Everything I’ve carried for Jake all these years comes rushing to the surface. I forget all about Raf and Derek and Carmen’s wedding as I lean forward and crush my lips to his.

For a full heartbeat, Jake just freezes, and a thousand bolts of horror stab through me. But then his rough hands tangle in my hair, and a low groan rumbles up his chest.

His kiss isn’t soft or tentative the way mine was. He devours my mouth like a man who’s been starving and pulls me to him so fast that I lose my balance. I gasp as I catch myself on Jake’s bare chest, and his arm locks possessively around my waist.

I realize then why Jake didn’t kiss me back all those years ago. My chaste peck on the lips was no match for him or his insatiable need.

His kiss is rough and demanding. Hungry. Possessive.

I kiss him back with equal fervor, six years of pent-up angst and frustration rushing forward in a heady mix. My hands claw at his hair. Teeth clash. Our tongues tangle as we destroy one another, his hands gripping the sides of my face with a bruising pressure.

When I pause to catch my breath, Jake captures my bottom lip between his teeth and sucks it into his mouth. One of his hands trails down to cup my breast, his fingers light and gentle.

But when he squeezes and begins to caress me through the fabric of my dress, I let out a moan that turns his touch from tentative to rough.

Wetness pools between my thighs as Jake massages my nipple, and I tilt my head back to give him better access to my neck. His lips plant a trail of teasing kisses along my jaw before brushing over my pulse point and the tendons of my neck.

I pull him closer, egging him on, but I can’t get close enough. I want Jake inside me. I want to consume him. I want every inch of this man.

“We should go,” I gasp, my voice embarrassingly ragged as Jake’s other hand dips under the hem of my dress and begins tracing slow circles along my inner thigh.

Jake’s laugh rumbles against my mouth. “You think we’re putting on enough of a show for the rest of the wedding guests?”

I glance behind him to the windows of the terrace, and my cheeks heat. There are definitely people in the hallway just inside, and I’m sure we’ve had an audience for at least part of our interlude.

“Maybe,” I breathe, my skin burning wherever Jake’s hands wander.

“Careful, Lena,” he says with a chuckle. “We take this behind closed doors, and I can’t promise I’ll be a gentleman.”

“You said that once already,” I remind him. “About sharing a bed?” My mouth twists in a smirk. “You and I have slept together for two nights in a row, and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

A dark look flashes through Jake’s eyes at the implied challenge in my statement, and something about it gives my stomach a pang of nervous anticipation.

“Trust me, sweetheart. Now that I’ve kissed you, there’s no sharing a bed unless I’m fucking you in it.

You’re gonna have to lock, chain, and barricade that door if you don’t want me to lay you out on our bed, strip you naked, and spend the entire night with my tongue and cock buried in your sweet little pussy. ”

My mouth falls open at the filthy words that tumble effortlessly from Jake’s mouth. He’s never said anything remotely sexual to me in the years that I’ve known him, and my entire body is suddenly too hot.

“Is that a promise?” I whisper .

Jake doesn’t answer, but the smoldering look in his eyes is enough to make my core clench with need.

I glance at the night sky, which is never truly dark in Denver. “The night’s already half gone,” I say. “We’d better get started.”