Last Wolf Hunting Page 18

  She understood what he was trying to say—but it wasn’t enough. “Lust is not love, Jeremy.”

  She watched the muscles in his face tighten, his golden brows pulling close as he worked over her words. “And if I told you that it was more than lust?” he rasped, the hoarse words thick with emotion.

  “It wouldn’t matter,” she whispered, shaking her head, “because it’s not.”

  “So now you’re the expert on how I feel?” he shot back, the brackets around his mouth deep with frustration.

  “No…it’s just that…God, I’m sorry.” Pulling a tissue out of her pocket, Jillian shoved it under her nose. “I wish…I wish things could be different, but they can’t.”

  “Things can always be different,” he grunted, staring at her with such intensity, she felt as if he were trying to see right in to her. “If we think they’re important enough to fight for, we find a way to make them different.”

  A choked sob escaped her throat, tears streaming from her eyes, leaving salty trails over her skin. “I wish that was true, but it isn’t. Not this time.”

  He didn’t respond…didn’t argue…didn’t even look at her.

  With his expression cast in stone, he just pulled himself to his feet, buttoned his jeans and headed into his bedroom. When he came back, he was dressed and Jillian was waiting for him in the living room. “Come on, I’ll drive you home,” he rumbled. She nodded, unable to meet his eyes, and followed him outside.

  Chapter 13

  Jillian spent the rest of the night and following day with her emotions careening between frustration and the churning, aching feeling in her gut that she’d screwed something up. Just let it slip right through her fingers.

  She knew she’d made the wrong choice. And why? The answer to that was easy—the only easy answer she had.

  She was a coward. Too chicken to take a chance, to make the leap.

  It reminded her pitifully of a nature show she’d watched on TV the week before, when she’d been trying to fall asleep. It had been all about these arctic birds that were born on the side of a craggy, towering cliff. When old enough, they had to jump off the ledge and soar to the water below, without ever having learned how to fly. If they wanted to survive, they had to take that blind leap of faith and trust their instincts to get them safely to the sea.

  It was beyond depressing to know that if she’d been one of those birds, she’d have died of starvation up on that rocky cliff, never taking that breathtaking leap toward her destiny.

  And that’s what life felt like without Jeremy. She was starving. Starving for the emotional connection, the physical contact, that exhilarating rush and piercing sensation of being alive that she felt whenever she was with him. Colors were more intense, smells sweeter, food richer.

  He simply made her life better. Made it whole. Complete. Made her complete. And like a cowardly fool, she’d pushed him away. Again. She hated how pathetic that made her, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

  She couldn’t change what she was.

  So while the storm that had been building for days finally unleashed its wrath upon the mountains, she moved around her house in a daze, putting in a load of laundry, vacuuming, dusting, anything to keep her body busy, desperately trying to keep her mind blank. But it wasn’t working. She kept replaying the scene from the night before over and over, wishing she’d handled it differently. Wishing she were brave enough to reach out for what she wanted and hold on to it. Fight for it. Gnash her teeth and challenge anyone who tried to take it away from her.

  But the thing she wanted was Jeremy’s heart, and how could she make someone love her? She didn’t have to be a genius to know the answer to that timeless question: she couldn’t. Love was either there or it wasn’t. She couldn’t “make” it do anything.

  When her house was so clean it would have made Martha Stewart proud, she popped a bowl of popcorn and curled up in front of an old Cary Grant movie, needing something to keep her mind off the mess she’d made of her life. She’d just started to doze off, when she heard a knock on her front door, and her heart leapt into her throat. Was it Jeremy? She could feel her pulse hammering, her cheeks going hot as she wondered what to do.

  Oh, god. You coward! How long are you going to keep running?

  Taking a deep breath, Jillian wrenched open the door and came face-to-face with Eric. “Oh,” she breathed out on a sharp stab of relief that felt suspiciously like disappointment.

  His dark gray eyes glittered with humor, and the corner of his mouth twisted into a knowing smile. “Let me guess. You were expecting someone else?”

  “No.” She sighed, moving aside to let him in. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  He took a moment to glance at the movie, then the half-eaten bowl of popcorn sitting beside a box of tissues, and turned back to give her a slow once-over. “Not that the bunny slippers aren’t adorable, honey, but you look wrung out.”

  “Thanks. It’s been an eventful few days,” she muttered, flopping down on the sofa. “At this rate, I can only imagine what kind of shape I’ll be in by next week.”

  “That bad, huh?” he asked, taking a seat in the matching leather chair.

  Jillian arched a brow in his direction. “If you’re going to try and tell me you haven’t heard all about it, I should warn you now that I won’t believe you.”

  A low, husky chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Yeah, I heard. The whole town is gossiping about you helping a blood-covered Burns to your house yesterday morning, then traipsing off to the Alley with him in the afternoon. Just what the hell were you two up to?” Her gaze slid away from his, and his laughter deepened. “I’d say from the look on your face that you were definitely up to something.”

  Jillian lifted her chin, trying to figure out how much to tell him. She trusted Eric…but she knew what Jeremy would want her to do. Giving him a tense, half-hearted grin, she finally said, “It seems that Jeremy is always up to something. Life is certainly never boring around him.”

  Eric watched her with a wondering stare, gray eyes dark beneath the heavy fringe of his lashes, and it was as if he knew she was keeping something from him. For a moment, it looked as if he’d press her, but then he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Look, there’s a reason I came by.”

  Dread settled like a weight in her belly. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m worried about you,” he told her, his expression suddenly a concerned mixture of anger and frustration. “I want you to stay sharp and keep your eyes open, Jillian. Something bad is coming, and I have a feeling my father is going to be right at the center of it. I want you stay on guard around him, always.”

  “I will,” she whispered, her thoughts racing, “but what about you? And Elise?”

  His mouth twisted. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay.”

  “I want your promise that you’ll be careful, too,” she told him. “And I’m here if you need anything, Eric. Whatever happens, I know this isn’t going to be easy on your family. I want to be able to help.”

  He shook his head, while another soft, wry laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re something else, you know that, Murphy? I come to warn you that your life could be in danger from my own father, and all you’re worried about is how you can help my family.”

  “We’re friends, Eric. I care about what happens to you and Elise.”

  “I’m worried about her,” he admitted, his tone becoming grim. “You know I can’t stand him, but I put up with his bullshit to protect her. The more I argue with him, the harder it is for her. She puts on this act of being so tough, but on the inside she’s still hurting from what happened to her.”

  “I know she is,” Jillian whispered. “I can feel the rage inside of her. And the fear.”

  Eric’s jaw worked, his lip curling with anger. “And my father does everything he can to grind her into the ground. He’s done his best to systematically strip her pride. The fact that Elise refuses to stand up to him only incites
his cruelty. When she was raped, he told her it was her fault for being weaker than they were. I nearly killed him, but that only upset her more because she was worried about what would happen to me. Now I just keep my distance. She may be our little sister, but Elise is militant about protecting me and Eli, and he uses that to manipulate her.”

  “He’s good at manipulating others,” she pointed out, thinking of his followers. “You’ve seen what’s happening, Eric. The fear and animosity is spreading through the pack. It’s like a sickness. And if it keeps growing, not even the Runners will be enough to stop him,” she added softly, staring at her lap as she thought of Jeremy. “That’s what scares me the most.”

  Reaching out, Eric lifted her chin with the edge of his fist. “You love him, don’t you?”

  She blinked, her mouth twisting with a wry smile. “It doesn’t matter if I do or I don’t. Jeremy and I don’t have a future.”

  He ran his thumb over her chin in a gentle caress, then pulled his hand away. “You sure about that?”

  “Pretty sure,” she murmured. “I think I’ve blown any chance by being a coward.”

  “Look, god knows I’m no expert on relationships,” he drawled, lifting his dark brows at the vastness of that understatement. “But I know enough to believe that when you find love, it’s worth taking a risk or two. Don’t run away from it because you’re afraid, Jillian.”

  Her smile fell, and she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I wish it were that simple, Eric.”

  “Well, if you need a friend to talk it over with, you know where to find me.” He rolled to his feet with an easy grace for a guy his height, and reached for his jacket.

  Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he stepped out the door and headed toward his truck. Jillian waved to him as he drove away, then shut the door and made her way to the kitchen to put on the kettle for some tea. She’d just turned on the stove, when her phone rang.

  “We need to talk, Jillian,” her mother said in a low, suffering tone, before she’d even had the chance to say hello.

  “About what?” she asked, knowing very well what her mother was calling to gripe about.

  There was a stifled pause, and then her mother said, “I heard that you were at the Alley last night. What were you thinking?”

  “I know this may come as a surprise to you—” she sighed “—but I know what I’m doing.”

  “Is it worth it, Jillian?”

  She sniffed and reached for a crumpled tissue in the pocket of her robe. “A broken heart won’t kill me, Mother.”

  “I was lucky, Jillian. I found your father just before I dried up inside, but who will you find? My mate was still out there, waiting for me to find him. But Jeremy is your mate, no matter how unfair—”

  “It’s not unfair,” she argued.

  Her mother made a brittle sound of frustration, then took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I was able to recover in a way that you may not be able to.”

  “And if I never take the risk?” she asked in a soft voice, staring down at her pink bunny slippers that Sayre had given her as a joke the year before on her birthday. “What do I do then?”

  “You and Eric are good together,” her mother murmured.

  A sharp crack of laughter burst from her chest, taking her by surprise. “Oh, god. And is that fair to Eric? Is it fair to me? I don’t love him, Mother. And he doesn’t love me. His mate is out there somewhere, waiting to be found. Would that be fair to either one of us?”

  “I don’t care if it’s fair!” her mother snapped, obviously losing her tenuous hold on her temper. She was angry, but Jillian knew her anger was self-directed for the mistakes she had made…and couldn’t let go of. Despite the happiness in her life, Constance Murphy had never figured out how to forgive herself for falling in love with the wrong man. Her mother’s voice cracked, and she said, “I don’t want to see you hurt, Jillian.”

  “I’ve been hurting for the last ten years,” she said tiredly, surprised to hear herself admit it. “So enough already. Maybe it’s time I just get on with my life and stop hiding from what I want.”

  “He’ll never be there for you,” her mother rasped. “He’ll break you and then he’ll leave. If he doesn’t get you killed first.”

  Jillian gripped the phone so tightly, she was amazed the plastic didn’t crack apart. “You should have more faith, Mother.”

  Whoa…and isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black?

  “Jillian, what happened with your biological father nearly killed me, and he wasn’t even my lifemate. Think how much more painful it will be for you with Jeremy. Do you really want to put yourself through that?”

  Pushing her hair up from her forehead, she muttered, “I’m not a masochist.”

  “Be sarcastic if you want, but before you decide what to do, ask yourself this, Jillian. Do you trust him enough to give him the keys to your soul, to hand him that kind of power? Because he’ll see it all. Do you trust him enough for that—do you trust yourself to be able to handle it when he breaks your heart?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, shoving the tissue under her nose again, wondering how long it was going to take before the blasted tears dried up. “But I know that he doesn’t want to hurt me,” she heard herself say, the words welling up from some unknown source buried deep inside of her, taking her by surprise again.

  “You’re going to destroy your life, Jillian.”

  “But it’s my decision to make, Mother. Not yours,” she whispered, hanging up the phone. It rang again almost immediately, and she snatched up the receiver, snapping, “What?” into the plastic mouthpiece.

  “Jillian,” a deep, craggy voice rumbled from the other end of the connection, “this is Graham. I realize it’s late, but I wanted to warn you that the League is aware of your whereabouts last night.”

  Clutching the phone to her ear, she was conscious of her heartbeat steadily gaining speed, like a train barreling its way down a track. And yet, she didn’t sound afraid as she said, “Is that so?”

  Silence greeted her firm tone, and then Graham cleared his throat, sounding a bit uncertain, and she almost smiled at the thought that she’d rattled the powerful Lead Elder. “Yes, well…er, what do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”

  Jillian rolled her eyes, while an airy sensation seemed to expand in her chest, bringing the strangest feeling of freedom. “With all due respect, Graham, I’m a grown woman. One who doesn’t answer to you or to the League. Which begs the question of why exactly we’re having this discussion.”

  “I’d be careful of the stand you take on this issue, Jillian,” the Elder grunted. “It’s been called to our attention that your actions of the past few days have been…questionable, at best.”

  “I’ve done nothing I’m ashamed of,” she stated with firm conviction.

  “Jillian, you have a great deal to lose if you follow this course.”

  She narrowed her eyes on her kitchen window, where her reflection stared back at her in shocked astonishment. “Are you threatening my position, Graham?”

  “You know we’re impatient to see you mated and married,” he replied carefully.

  “You’ve made your position clear, yes.”

  Graham’s sigh traveled heavily over the line. “You’ve left us no choice, Jillian, but to invoke the Spring Rites. Come the Spring Equinox, a Mate Hunt will be called, and you will be awarded to the one who hunts you down.”

  Fury poured through her veins at his words, moving with the swiftness of a ravaging storm, raging and violent. Suddenly, things became so clear, as if Jillian had finally put on a pair of glasses that set the world into a clearer, sharper focus—one that propelled her into a blinding awareness.

  All her life, she’d been the outsider. The one who was Lycan in blood, and yet had no wolf. She was Silvercrest, and yet, she was different, set apart by her power as much as Jeremy was by his bloodline. But where he had the strength to stand up
to the pack, she’d been a coward. She’d let fear and feelings of inadequacy color her perception, until she only now realized she’d been trying to earn the approval of the League for all these years to prove that she was worthy.

  But she didn’t need their approval, dammit.

  She was so tired of it. Tired of everything. Tired of fighting her feelings for the powerful Runner. Tired of her parents and the pack trying to control her life. Tired of feeling as if she was lacking, of always putting everyone else’s needs before her own. Dammit, wanting fulfillment in her life didn’t make her a bad person…or a bad Spirit Walker. It meant she was alive! That she had a heart and a mind, that she had a soul hungry for connection.

  She was worthy, whether they approved of her or not, and if she had half a brain, she was going to do everything she could to set things right. And she needed to start by standing up for herself and telling the arrogant browbeaters what they could do with their archaic threats.

  “Well,” Graham snapped impatiently. “What do you have to say?”

  Taking a deep breath, Jillian smiled at her reflection in the window. “I say you can all take your ridiculous threat and shove it, Graham. And you can quote that to the rest of the League when you tell them that it will be a cold day in hell before I ever again allow them to tell me what to do with my life!”

  She hung up then, surprised to feel her legs were steady beneath her. She’d expected her knees to be knocking, she was so full of nerves and excitement, but somehow, she felt amazingly at peace, as if a cool, calm cloud had wrapped around her, sheltering her from the storm.

  She’d never, in all her life, been brave enough to take a chance and go after what she wanted. She’d always played it safe. She’d always done what was expected of her.

  But now, finally…after all this time, all of that was about to change.

  * * *

  Early morning mist curled lazily around her ankles as Jillian knocked upon the side door of the Burns’s house, while soft, featherlight raindrops gathered on her lashes like shimmering jewels.