The Wolf and His Wife (Wolf 2)

“That’s outrageous—”

“It’s the only option we have.”

“How do you know he won’t trick you? Put a bullet in every chamber of the barrel and make you go first?”

“Someone will show us the barrel. He may be a psychopath, but he’s not a cheat.”

My fingers shoved into my hair, making my perfectly styled hair frizz as I dragged my hands down my face. I smeared my tears against my skin, ruined my expertly applied makeup.

“This matter will never be settled until he’s dead or I’m dead. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He turned to the bed and pulled back the covers. It might be his last night on earth, but he acted like his doom didn’t await him. How could he be so calm about the worst night of his life?

“That’s too bad because we aren’t done talking.”

He leaned against the pillow and looked at me, his eyes full of lethal warning. “I won’t change my mind. You don’t understand my world the way I do. Without my father’s army to help me, I’m just as likely to die anyway. Kamikaze is not a man you want to fight. This is the simplest solution.”

“Letting me surrender is the simplest solution. I would much rather do that than let—”

“And I wouldn’t. He’s just as likely to get the bullet as I am. It’s an even match.”

“But every time someone pulls that trigger, your chances get worse.”

“And so do his.” He got out of bed again and walked up to me. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind. I know how much you like to sneak around behind my back, but you aren’t going to hand yourself over to him. The gates are locked, and you aren’t getting through.”

That was exactly what I would have done—but he was too smart for that.

“Now, let me get some sleep.”

“You can actually close your eyes and drift off right now?”

The two bullet wounds were noticeable in his shoulder. Old scars that would never truly heal, they blemished his perfect skin, but they also added character. This man was a soldier, a fighter. He’d promised to protect me, and he kept that vow—even when no one else would. “I’m pretty drunk. So, yes.” He turned back to the bed and got under the covers. The lamp was clicked off, and he lay there, his body relaxing into the mattress.

I stood there as my loose dress began to slip off my shoulders. The night had started off so grand, a social event with champagne and good company. My husband was the most handsome man in the room—and I felt lucky to be on his arm. But now, the good things in my life had come to an end—snuffed out like a lit candle.

I stared at his exhausted form on the bed and felt my heart clench from the pain. A life without him wasn’t a life worth living. He was more than just the man I’d been forced to marry. He really was my husband now. He was the man I wanted in my arms as well as in my bed.

I slipped off the dress then got into bed, only wearing my panties even though there would be no sex tonight. He was too drunk, and I was too depressed. It was obvious Maverick was worried about tomorrow because he’d drowned himself in so much booze, he wouldn’t have to think about it. His life was held in the balance by chance. All that mattered was where that bullet was in the barrel.

Maybe he really didn’t have other options. But his defeat reminded me of the afternoon when his father stormed into the house and tried to kill him. Maverick had pretty much rolled over and allowed it to happen—as if he wanted his father to kill him.

It was obvious depression was a major component of his character. Dealing with his mother’s terrible death, his sister’s illness, and his father’s hatred was enough to make him give up on everything.

Maybe he felt like he had nothing to lose.

I lay beside him and watched his face. His expression restful and calm, it didn’t seem like he cared what would happen tomorrow. Forfeiting his life was easy because he didn’t have anything to lose. He would rather die to save me than live his life to the fullest.

Even though he didn’t want my affection, I scooted closer to him and laid my arm across his stomach. My face rested next to his, my lips touching his shoulder. After a deep breath that made me shudder, tears welled up in my eyes then streaked down my cheeks. My fingers tightened against his skin, and I held my breath to keep the sobs at bay. “I can’t lose you…”

I didn’t sleep that night.

I kept clinging to Maverick like it was the last time we would ever be together. This man had become my whole world, and not just because he took care of me. He was my friend, my lover, my everything.