“Fuck, Isa.” Josué hangs his head, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “I…” He looks at me, his eyes stark and raw with pain. “I don’t want to do this. Shift on your own. Please. Don’t make me force the change.”
I growl, bearing my teeth at him.
He shakes his head, resignation stamped across his face. “Forgive me.” Lifting his eyes to mine, he catches my gaze and silently issues a challenge. My wolf rises to meet it and our eyes bore into one another. A red sheen rolls over his gaze, his beast front and center, and my heart seizes in my chest when I spot the color so similar to the vampire’s crimson gaze.
My body shakes.
Josué’s expression darkens, his lips peeling back to expose his teeth. “Shift,” he grits out. His dominance wraps around me. It presses on my wolf, ordering her to obey. I try and fight it, but in the end I can’t. I’m not strong enough.
Bones snapped and fur recedes as my body changes back to my human skin, leaving me drenched in sweat and panting, naked on the floor.
Tremors wrack my body as I struggle to settle back into my body after being a wolf for several days.
“Isa. Fuck. Are you okay?”
I choke on a breath. “She told you?”
He nods. “I tried calling you a few times but your phone kept going to voicemail.” It must have died. It’s not like I bothered making sure to keep it charged. “Then this chick calls me out of nowhere asking if I’d be willing to come here for a few days. See if I can help.” He shrugs. “Isa, when she told me what happened to you. What you went through…”
My eyes sting and shame blossoms in my chest. Pressing my lips into a tight line I push my shaking limbs into motion, sitting up before dragging the comforter from my bed and wrapping it around myself. Josué’s seen my naked body more times than I can count. Hazard of being a shapeshifter. So, it’s not the fact that I’m naked making me want to curl in on myself, it’s the fear and shame coursing through me. Telling me that I’m weak. Dirty. Useless.
“Hey.”
I don’t look up.
“Hey!”
I shake my head. I don’t want to see the pity or disgust I know must be in his gaze. If Josué looks at me differently… I can’t handle this anymore.
“Isa. Babe. I love you. You are my best friend. Let me be here for you.”
A tear slips down my cheek and I furiously swipe it away. “You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him.
“Isabella. Por favor. Déjame ayudarte.” Please. Let me help you.
I want help. I do. But—
“How?” I choke on the word. “How can you help me? Josué, I feel like I’m dying inside, and I wish I was dying on the outside, too. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to feel this. Anything. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I just—”
He pushes from the ground but stays by the door. A sob mixed with a whimper passes through my lips. He freezes. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes plead with me, but I don’t know what he wants.
A tick forms along his jaw and he scrubs a hand over his face, leaving behind a weary expression. “I want to hold you. Can we… do you think we can try?”
I have no freaking idea. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing while my mind races, rationalizing his request. The only person who’s touched me is Natalia. But Josué is my friend. I trust him. I know him. I …
“Can I see your hands,” I ask.
He frowns, confused but raises them palms out to face me. I shake my head. “Turn them around.”
He does without question. I take in the backs of his hands already knowing what I’ll find. Both hands are inked, one sporting a large skull with red roses on either side. The other is tattooed with a strand of rosary beads and a cross resting between his thumb and index finger. A shifter’s skin under normal circumstances would reject the ink, but I was with him when he got both tattoos. A diluted silver alloy was added to the ink, enough to kill the Lyc-V where the tattoo was applied so the ink could be embedded in his skin, and then a witch sealed it with magic. It was painful, even by shifter standards.
I focus on the ink, tracing the lines of the designs with my gaze. I force myself to recognize the differences between his hands and those of my attacker. Beyond the ink I take in the gold band he wears on his right middle finger. The bronze color of his skin.
My breathing slows and my shoulders relax. Josué is patient with me, letting my eyes drink their fill. Several minutes pass before I feel confident enough to let him step closer.
With exaggerated slowness, he walks toward me. When he’s only inches away, he slowly peels his t-shirt off, exposing broad shoulders and a toned stomach. He crouches, offering me his shirt, and with shaking hands, I accept it. I tug the material over my head and breathe in his scent. A familiar sense of peace cocoons me.
Beside me now, we both wait. When I don’t have a panic attack, he shifts closer, leaning forward to pick me up.
Cradled in his arms he carries me to my bed and takes a seat, leaning against the headboard with me nestled between his legs and his arms wrapped around me.
I swipe at my eyes and hold myself perfectly still as he buries his nose in the crook of my neck. Neither of us moves. My deep, deliberate breaths are loud in the quiet room, but he doesn’t seem to mind. We sit there and as the minutes pass, I slowly relax.
Angling
