Primal (Wrong Side of the Tracks 2)

“You make me laugh. You make me relax. You make me feel safe. I feel good when you’re around.”

Jag turned despite a pang of pain in his side and wrapped his arms around Dane, hugging him close. Dane was so big, so soft, so ultimately cuddly Jag wanted to fall asleep in his arms every night. Words broke out of him in a sob as he pushed his face into Dane’s jacket, which smelled of soap and fresh rain. “I want to be what you need. I’m sorry I didn’t consider what you wanted. I was selfish.” And he didn’t just say it. He felt it to the bone and itched to howl at his own flaws.

Dane embraced him with no hesitation and pushed his fingers into Jag’s hair, bringing his face to the crook of his own neck, as if knowing that breathing in his warm scent was the thing Jag needed. “But you understand that now, right?”

Jag nodded, squeezing him tightly. “Will you give me a chance to prove myself?” His heart beat with hope as if it had just been awoken from hibernation.

Dane pressed a kiss to the side of his head, and the tenderness of that gesture made Jag shiver with joy.

“As long as you put on your coat, take the painkillers, and return to Frank’s home with me.”

Jag’s head spun. He’d always been taught charity was for the weak, and that a man should be self-sufficient, but even Father relied on family to do some of the work. They had all supported each other for basic needs, not lived in separate dens like wild animals.

And why was he taking his time with the answer when he'd move to the other side of the world if Dane asked him to, let alone sleep in Dex’s comfortable bed for a few days.

“I will.”

Dane’s lips stretched into the most beautiful smile, and he caressed Jag’s face with the back of his hand. “Then let’s do it.”

Jag didn’t protest and swallowed the smooth pills as if they were candy before letting Dane put the coat on him. The violent summer storm was slowly passing when they emerged from under the plastic-covered table and stepped into the drizzle, but Dane supported Jag’s weight, as if it were his job to make sure Jag didn’t hurt himself further. Maybe in his world it was?

Jag knew the area by heart, but let Dane guide them with the help of a flashlight. They didn’t speak much, as the storm was too loud, and talking while moving his legs at the same time would have been a struggle for Jag anyway. Dane didn’t seem to mind him being so weak, didn’t discard him now that Jag was wounded and couldn’t offer the same masculine energy Dane had seemed to always enjoy.

Could it really be that Jag had more lessons about life ahead of him? While softened by civilization, Dane wasn’t a weakling, so maybe Jag hadn’t been fair seeing him as someone who’d need his protection for survival? He wasn’t sure what that made him in the fragile balance of their male-male relationship, but if exploring alternative possibilities meant he could keep Dane at his side, then he was ready to abandon everything he believed in.

Frank was at the kitchen table when they entered, but they both declined an offer of coffee, and while the walk had been exhausting, Dane decided Jag was in need of a wash and clean dressings for his wound before bed.

If that was what Dane wanted to do, Jag would comply. He was too tired to argue and figured he’d let his mate take care of him.

Unlike the rest of the house, which could use a few renovations, the bathroom had been fixed up just last spring. Frank didn’t like to pay others for work he claimed he could do himself, so he’d laid the new tiles, and installed a bathtub reclaimed from the junkyard. Jag had been eager to help him and had come out of it with a basic knowledge of plumbing. He’d been convinced there would be no point to his new skills, but now that he had the chance to win Dane back, hope was swirling in his head like the fragrant air left behind by Frank’s shower.

“I… I was thinking about installing running water for a while now,” he said, trying to appeal to Dane’s sense of comfort and entice him to stay.

Dane, who’d dragged in a chair for Jag to sit in the middle of the room, looked up from above the sink he was gradually filling with warm water. The green tank top he wore revealed some of the colorful tattoos on thick, meaty arms, and when he approached and leaned in, tugging on Jag’s pants, breath caught in Jag’s throat.

“You’re so magnificent,” Jag whispered, embarrassed that he had to hold on to Dane’s arm to keep his balance, but if he let himself rest and eat, maybe he’d no longer be so weak come morning. He pushed Dex’s soft shoes off his feet with ease, ready to be naked with the man he hoped to one day call his again.