Wildstar

"Then why did you say what you did?"

"I . . . don't know."

Devlin had to give Burke partial credit for trying to undo the damage, but Jess was like a dog going after a bone. "What did you mean, darn it?"

He closed his eyes. "You must let Riley tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Ask him."

"Confound you! You're going to tell me or I swear I'll leave you here for the buzzards!"

Burke's blue eyes flickered to Devlin. "I'm sorry . . . Sommers was right. He should be the one to tell her."

"Tell me what?" Jessica's voice held the high pitch of panic as she surged to her feet.

"She ought to know," Burke said almost pleadingly.

"Know what!" Jess cried.

"You . . . are my daughter."

She went stock-still, the color draining from her face. "It isn't true. . . . I don't believe you."

Confusion, denial, pain, all warred for expression on her face.

"It's true," Burke murmured hoarsely. "I fell in love with your mother twenty-two years ago . . . and we made you. I never knew it, though. . . . I only just learned of it last night."

"You're lying." Her voice was raw, anguished.

"No. I would never lie about something like this."

She took an involuntary step backward. It had suddenly become hard for her to breathe. Her head swiveled toward Devlin. "Tell him not to lie."

Devlin swore under his breath, wishing there were some way he could have avoided this, wishing he could have spared her the pain. Jess's look was heartrending, her panic-filled eyes imploring him to deny Burke's claim. But he wasn't going to lie to her. "Riley wanted to be the one to tell you," he said quietly.

She might have been able to disbelieve Burke. She couldn't doubt Devlin.

Terrified, horror-stricken. she backed away from them both, shaking her head frantically. "No . . . no'. . ."

"Jessica . . ." Burke said pleadingly. She didn't answer. Blindly turning away, she broke into a run, her stumbling gait painful to watch. "Jessica!" Burke cried again.

Devlin followed her. He couldn't leave her to face such a shocking revelation alone.

She ran for some time before finally collapsing. When he found her, she was kneeling on a patch of grass, hold­ing her stomach, her forehead nearly touching the ground. Her anguished sobs nearly broke his heart.

Sinking down beside her, Devlin caught her arm and pulled her up, holding her tightly against him. She was shaking violently, but to his surprise she didn't try to pull away. Instead, she clung to him, her face buried against his neck. He simply held her, absorbing her tremors, her pain, feeling the wetness of her tears against his skin.

Jess hardly realized how fiercely she was clutching him. She was aware of little but her own agony, her own need. She needed Devlin to hold her. She felt as if she would shatter in a million pieces if she let go. Her commonplace existence had just exploded like dynamite and sent her en­tire world careening.

She wasn't Riley's daughter. Everything she had be­lieved in and trusted and lived for had just been blown to smithereens.

It was a long, long moment before her racking sobs lessened—and longer still before she could catch her breath over the stabbing pain in her chest. Only then did Devlin draw back. He didn't release her, though. Instead, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her . . . her damp eyelids, her pale cheeks, her trembling lips. His ten­derness was comforting, compassionate. Intimate, but not sexual. He was offering her solace.

Jess clung to him limply, her rasping breath coming in shallow spurts as she tried to make sense out of her shat­tered existence. One tormenting thought kept slicing at her, hurting more than all the others.

"Riley . . ." she whispered. "Riley lied to me."