So we left.
WE WALKED through the woods.
He took my hand in his and held it up to his face.
The skin was slightly swollen. A little red. Little flakes of dried blood littered my palm.
I stopped and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.
He said, “I told you.”
“What?”
“Remember?”
“Yes, but what?”
“That I wanted to see your blood. That I wanted to taste it.”
I said, “Yes, but you’d never hurt me to do so.”
“How do you know?” And there was the flash of those Halloween eyes.
“Because I know you.”
And he stepped closer.
“I can hurt you,” he said.
“I know.”
“I have claws. And teeth.” His chest bumped mine.
“I know. You won’t scare me away, Joe.”
His gaze faltered. “I’m not—”
“Either that or you’re testing me.”
“Ox.”
I said, “No. You wanted this. You gave me your wolf. You came after me.”
“It’s not—”
“It’s not going to work.”
And there was fear there. Real fear. “What won’t?” he croaked.
“Scaring me away. I know what I’m in for. I would have run a long time ago if I couldn’t handle it. My daddy told me I was gonna get shit all my life. And fuck if I didn’t believe him. I don’t. Not anymore. So don’t give me your shit. I won’t take it. I won’t ever take it.”
His breath on my face.
This was Joe. And I was Ox.
His nose touched mine.
My hands found his waist. He shuddered under the touch.