Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Heat licks at my neck and cheeks as I remember for the millionth time what it felt like to have him pressed against me with his probing tongue pushing past my lips to taste my own. If it weren’t for my ability to erect mental walls, the whole pack would know how fucked I am in the head right now. Thankfully, I’m able to block them all out.
All aside from Cy.
It’s like since we embarked on this new, fiery relationship, he’s had easier access into my mind. And, unlike before, I don’t hate it. It feels slightly forbidden. For once, I’m not a child waiting for the adults to make all the decisions for me. I’m included. The Alpha in our pack has given me a responsibility—to keep his secrets.
Cash: Earth to Rem…
I drop my attention to my phone and force a smile.
Me: Sorry. Zoned out. Maybe he’s still out there looking for who or what hurt Van.
Cash: Or he could be hurt.
His eyes burn into me, but I avoid the penetrating stare to reply back.
Me: Cy will find him.
Cash: Cy hates us. Especially me. I doubt he’ll even try.
I bristle at his words. Cy’s an asshole, sure, but he’s loyal and brave and fearless. I’ve seen how serious he is when it comes to protecting the forest, animals, and the people in it.
Me: He cares. He’ll find him.
Cash: A lot of trust in someone you hate.
I know Cash is freaking out right now, worrying about both his brothers, but his text is a total dick thing to say. Pocketing my phone, I rise to my feet, needing to escape everyone. I stride into my bedroom and sit down in front of my big window on the floor. The journals I leave stacked up have been touched. It irritates me that Cash went through my things. I know it was him. He stayed in my room last night, and my packmates respect my boundaries. Angry heat creeps across my flesh—a mixture of annoyance and shame.
Those words were private.
All my rants about Cy and his overprotectiveness.
I flip open the journal on top, turning to the last written on page. Cy’s name is scribbled over and over almost angrily. Now, I see it as obsession. I must have written it hundreds of times on the same page.
Cash saw this.
He saw the furious scrawling and drew whatever conclusions he wanted. It feels invasive. Quickly, I flip through the journal to make sure I didn’t mention anything about wolf shifters. Nothing. Relief floods through me. As much as Cy pisses me off on a regular basis, I’d die if I accidentally outed him to humans. I’m not sure what would happen if the world knew shapeshifters existed, but something tells me it wouldn’t be good.
I land on a page where I’d written about what it felt like to see my sister’s body. The guilt that coursed through me at having fought with her only a little while before. How I was equal parts angry and devastated. I’d never had a second to process her death because the thing had attacked me and Mom next. Mom tried hard to protect me, but it didn’t work. The thing was incredibly strong. My writing is fragmented thoughts and feelings, mostly only legible to me.
“I didn’t mean to piss you off,” Cash says from the doorway of my bedroom.
I slam the journal closed, set it on top of a stack of them, and stand up, wondering if he thumbed his way through those too. I’m unable to shake away the violated sensation.
Scowling at Cash, I gesture toward my journals, arching a brow up in question. He flashes me a sheepish, guilty look.
“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I couldn’t sleep last night.” He shoves a hand into his pocket. The other arm is still in a sling. “Not that I could read it or anything. You should write neater so snooping asshole boyfriends can actually read your work.”
Boyfriend?
I glance down at my bare feet, brows drawing together in confusion. We’re not boyfriends. Friends, yeah, but not boyfriends. I can see how he might have thought that, since we’ve made out a few times, but neither of us decided we were a thing.
I can’t be a thing with Cash.
This thing with Cy is taking over my every thought.
“Hey,” he rumbles, approaching me. “I’m sorry I was a dick.”
He hugs me to him. Even though I’m still annoyed with him, it feels good to be trapped in his one-armed embrace. Everything around me is frayed and splitting. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep a grasp on this life I know. I wonder if at any second I’ll completely unravel.
Then what?
I don’t know, but it feels important.
Cash pulls back, his fingers toying along the collar of my shirt—well, Cy’s to be technical—I’d thrown on this morning before meeting up with everyone after that confusing kiss with Cy in his bedroom.