Primal (Wrong Side of the Tracks 2)

“I tried to find him several times over the years. I even used a drone once, but he shot it down with an arrow. You have to let him come to you, because you won’t find him when he doesn’t want to be found.”

Dane stared back at him, at loss. “He shot—never mind. I think I can get to the den from the house where Shane lives,” he said, already rising. “I’m not gonna leave the ball in his court each time.”

Frank whistled and pointed to a bunch of coats by the door. “Grab one for him too, and take your phone in case you get lost. If you do find him, try to get him back here. It’s not good for him to sleep on the ground after surgery, and he didn’t take his pain meds either.”

Dane measured Frank with his gaze, waiting for mockery, but it didn’t come, so he rushed to the door, collecting everything Frank told him to take—including the medicine. And an extra flashlight. He felt reckless. Like someone diving into deep water a day after learning to swim, but when the door shut behind him and he stepped into the summery rain, he realized that nothing could change his mind.

Whatever happens, happens.

Chapter 19 – Jag

Jag sniffed, shivering despite the layers of clothes he’d borrowed from Dex. He didn’t make it to his den, too exhausted to climb and afraid of getting too wet on the way or falling over into mud. Fortunately, he’d prepared for situations like this and crawled into one of his many hideouts. Made of a large wooden table on the edge of a pile of broken armchairs and covered with a plastic table cloth that kept out the rain, it might not have been the most comfortable place to spend the night but kept him dry and hidden at least.

He focused on his surroundings. On the rain tapping the tabletop above him, on the fresh scent of water mixing with dirt, and on the taste of minty tea still left on his tongue after Dane’s mother had treated him to it. Everything to forget the cruelty of Dane’s words, which cut him into slices each time his thoughts returned to their argument at Frank’s home.

He shouldn’t feel so cold on a summer night, but maybe it was just his heart freezing over from the pain? Father had told him there was no future for someone like him. That he’d always be alone, with no one to hug and take care of, and while Jag had put so much hope in his relationship with Dane, his love had been thrown right back in his face like a piece of junk that would remain among all the other rejections piled up in his heart. It was only fitting that he lived surrounded by trash.

Shame weighed on Jag’s chest when he remembered the half-delirious drive to Dane’s home. Did he truly have no pride? His injury might have been an accident, but it had occurred because Dane had refused to be his and had been fighting for freedom like a cornered animal. With access to a whole buffet of men, Dane didn’t want to settle on a loser who couldn’t even read. But for Jag, who’d never met anyone so interesting and colorful, Dane was the only one who mattered.

He might have been infatuated a few times before, but none of the men in Jag’s past came close to stirring the emotional storm he’d experienced in Dane’s presence. From the joy of hearing his laughter to the fulfillment of leaving seed inside his body, it was the perfect representation of what he saw as happiness. Dane embraced Jag’s animalistic side and opened up to every kiss, scratch and bite, just to later use his super smart mind in working out every mathematical detail needed to make the structure of their home secure. Dane wasn’t a crush. Dane had proven he could be a partner to Jag, and having that ripped from him left Jag hollow.

Even now, despite the pain he’d caused, Jag could almost hear Dane’s voice in the rain.

Jag!

Jag!

He exhaled and hid his face in his hands, resigned to the throbbing radiating through his body, but when his ears picked up a Where are you, you wild fucker, the calls echoing through the hum of the water and wind became less elusive.

The voice came from ever closer, getting clearer despite the roaring storm, but Jag forced away the hope erupting in his stupid heart. Dane’s only reason for being there was guilt, as he’d kept proving throughout this whole terrible day and night. Jag didn’t want the company of someone who was so clearly not willing, and once the rain stopped, he’d go to his lair, curl up under his furs and stay there until next summer.