Pain flitted through his eyes.
“That isnotwhat I meant,” I said, rising and sitting beside him. I kept my palm on his knee. When he didn’t shove it off, I took his hand. And I waited, giving him a chance to pull away.
He sighed, then curled his fingers around mine. “I know.”
My heart thumped faster, hope fluttering with it. “I don’t deserve you,” I said. “I know that. I told myself I was protecting you, but it was selfish. If you knew how sorry I am—” My throat closed, and I looked down.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m not going to flee in the night or anything.”
I lifted my head.
His expression grew serious. “But if I did, would you come after me? I need to know. Would you hunt me down?”
My heart hammered. I didn’t know what answer he wanted to hear. But I’d made a vow, and I wasn't going to break it.
“I love you,” I said. “In the human world, you’d be just fine on your own. You’re smart enough to land on your feet anywhere. But we don’t live in that world. So, yes, I would come after you. But I would never force you to stay with me. If you wanted to sever the mate bond, I’d help you do it. And I’ll never touch you unless you want it. Never.”
He said nothing. Just stared at me with his sky blue eyes.
I took a breath. “You might never let me touch you again. And I have to live with that. But I’m begging you to let me help you find your gift. It’s the only way to protect you from the Council. Let me do this for you. And when you’re strong enough to make it on your own, I’ll let you go. If that’s what you want.”
“It’s a lot to think about,” he said at last.
I squeezed his hand. “How about you let me make you dinner while you think it over.”
Something tentative bloomed between us. Not forgiveness—not yet.
But it was something.
“Okay,” he said.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
CALEB
The next few weeks fell into a pattern.
Jesse made breakfast around ten, which I was pretty sure he hated, being a six-AM-eggs-and-black-coffee kind of guy.
But he never mentioned it, just appeared in the kitchen every morning looking annoyingly put-together while I shuffled in still half-asleep and mainlined whatever he set in front of me.
After that, we went to the “coach house.” Constructed of the same weathered stone as the manor, it sat on the other side of the courtyard. One half was a gym with mats, weights, and an actual rock climbing wall. The other half held two cars and a sleek motorcycle.
But we never used the vehicles. Jesse was all business about me shifting, and he slid the big doors shut and ordered me to get to work.
He shifted effortlessly, transitioning between forms like someone changing their clothes.
For me, it was like getting stuck inside a sweatshirt I’d outgrown in eighth grade. By the third shift, sweat soaked my hair and my bones felt like they’d been put through a car crusher.
Jesse always seemed to know the exact moment I hit my limit. He’d tilt his head, study me for a second, and then say something like, “Inside. You need lunch.”
I didn’t argue. Partly because he was always right, but mostly because only an idiot would turn down food prepared by Jesse van der Meer.
Lunch was always something fresh and filling. Dinner was even better. Somehow, he always knew what I wanted. Homemade pizza we folded in half and ate with sauce dripping onto the plates. Roasted chicken with crispy skin and potatoes loaded with cream and butter. Pasta so good I ate it standing over the stove until he banished me to the table. One night, he fed me piles of tacos with tortillas he made in a press.
“Fuck,” I muttered, licking salsa off my fingers. “These are going to get me pregnant.”
