and back. “I hear . . . rustling in my ears.”
“Normal. That’s your wolf, letting you know your time’s close.”
She’d missed everything because her body had spent its lifetime trying to prepare her and doctors spent the same amount of time telling her she was schizo. Her parents had tried, but they’d grown weary of her supposed psychosis and delusions, the outbursts of violence that came out of nowhere that she could never explain.
“I have a terrible temper.”
Jinx’s grin was . . . well, wolfish. “Join the club. It’s supposed to be. You’re going to be all right. I’ll make sure of it.”
She wanted to believe him, and so this time, she did. “What’s really going on with you and Rifter?” she asked. “Or is that a sore subject?”
“It’s a shitty subject.” He couldn’t tell her that he’d disobeyed Rifter purposely to get thrown out of the house. Or maybe he could—should. Why get closer to her when ultimately, she wasn’t going to want anything to do with him? Not that he could blame her.
“Hey, lots of thinking going on in there. I don’t like seeing you sad.”
“I have stuff to tell you.”
“About Rifter?”
“That. The hellhounds. I’m sure you’ve got questions. And you’ve been patient. Dealing with the wolf shit you’ve learned about and you’ve been sticking up for me. And you shouldn’t.”
“Because it gets you in trouble?”
“Because I don’t deserve it.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
She moved to sit next to him. “Start with the ghosts. Your ability. Rogue said that you see ghosts and he sees spirits. I think I know the difference, but it seems like a burden, which is why I guess you don’t call it a gift.”
“Doesn’t sound like it should be so terrible, I know. It’s just . . . ghosts, spirits, they don’t shut up. Ever. And they aren’t just going to talk about mundane shit most of the time. They like to tell you about how they died, over and over. They share every brutal detail, like they’re compelled to do so. And when you hear those gruesome stories day in and day out—and it doesn’t matter if you ignore them because they’ll still talk and a part of you will still hear, whether you want to or not—and you can’t be a wolf twenty-four/seven. You can do the salt thing outside the room but they’re still outside. Spells are dangerous because they can be used against you or backfire and I’ve seen enough proof of that to last a lifetime, which in my case, is centuries.”
“So they’re there, even when you’re . . . when we’re . . .” She motioned between the two of them.
“Most have the decency to stay away when I’m fucking. Either that or they know that an interruption will ensure I’ll be too pissed to help them afterward or that I can pretty much ignore anything when I’m coming. But afterward . . .”
“They bother you right away?”
“I guess they feel like I’m relaxed enough and hopefully in a damned good mood.” Jinx shook his head. “But it’s death, all day, every day, morning till night for as long as I’ve lived.”
“Centuries,” she murmured and he nodded.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m crazy. Sometimes I wonder if, in the end, it will drive me crazy.” He gazed at her. “I told you I understood how you felt all those years. That wasn’t some kind of empathetic lie.”
It was probably also the most honest he’d been with a woman—or anyone—including himself. Because he never talked about it, tried even harder not to think about it. Just wanted to get through the day and find relief as Brother Wolf at night.
“Gwen said you gave Rifter dreamcatchers. Does that help you at all?” she asked.
“Ghosts are nothing like dreams.”
“I’m sorry. That was stupid. I’m just trying to help but you’ve obviously dealt with it for a lot longer than I have.”
“I like it that you try to help me. I’m just not very good at accepting it, and that’s a Dire trait.”
She laughed a little. “I guess I can see that in myself.”
“Admitting it’s the first step.”
She hated to break up the few moments of levity, but she pushed him, her voice gentle. “Why are the hellhounds protecting you?”
“Because I freed them from purgatory, along with the monsters that people at the psych hospital saw. I’m responsible for that, and until I figure out how to handle it, everyone I care about is in terrible danger. Look, I can live with the ghosts. Got no choice. But this other shit that escaped—the freaks, monsters, whatever you want to call them—they’re fears personified. And while fear’s a part of everyday life in healthy doses, these are stripped free of any limits. They’re pure, unadulterated fear that can wreak havoc on the world. Turn man against man. And Rogue is talking about leading them into hell.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Means he’ll be locked in there with them. You don’t drop things off in hell and skip back out.” He hung his head. “Right now, it’s the only solution I see. I have to choose between my brother or the human race.”
She didn’t know what to say. Realized there was nothing she could say and, instead, pulled his head down to her shoulder, cradled him against her, wanting desperately to make it better.
He allowed it, the touch, the slight rocking, the murmur that they’d figure it out together because there was nothing else to do.
“I can’t imagine living the way you’ve lived without help. Protection. You’re so strong, Jinx. But now I’m here and I’m stronger. You have to let me help.”
“How? You can’t bodyguard me against ghosts.”
“What if I could? What if I can protect you and Rogue when you hunt? What if word got out that nothing could or should bother you two when I’m around?”
“That’s too good to be true.”
“But what if it’s not?”
“Even if you could, I’d never let you. Do you realize how exhausting that would be?”
“Yes, I do.” She touched a hand to his cheek.
He blinked and looked at her. “Thank you, Gillian. But I don’t deserve—”
“You deserve everything good. I’m a lucky wolf to have found you.”
Jinx wanted to believe her, and a part of him did. But that didn’t change anything. “I can’t be what you want me to be. What you need me to be. I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Gillian, and my family is still yours. We’ll help you. But I can’t—we can’t—be together. Not in the way we’ve been.”
She stared at him, her expression sad. “What’s wrong, Jinx? I know you’ve been trying to shield me from things while you’re helping me with my problems. But can’t you let me help you for a change?”
He hadn’t wanted to tell her like this—or at all. But things were slipping further out of his control. The magic he’d once held over these monsters seemed to be fading and the slippery slope was turning his soul into something he may not recognize soon—not for much longer if he kept trying to keep these things from killing. “No, I can’t. And trust me, you shouldn’t want to.”
“But I do.”
“Gillian, please. I want you to walk away without hating me.”
“I could never.”
“I almost believe that.” He hung his head, stared at the carpet. He curled his toes, wishing it was fresh grass instead.
It was too tempting to shift, to let Brother Wolf take the wheel on a more permanent basis. Brother couldn’t help the ghosts so they didn’t bother him. In wolf form, Jinx could run away from his responsibility, let the monsters run wild over the humans.
But they would hurt wolves too, and other shifters and vampires alike. They would pervert the world and that would always be his goddamned legacy. Because he was easily tricked, like his father said.
And so he told her about his family. About how he and Rogue trained as hard as any alpha Dire in the warrior ways. They had little choice in the matter, as it was done for survival. And their father, a proud beta, should’ve been even prouder of his alpha sons.
