Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

“Helen was there,” he says, tugging on the leather band circling his strong wrist, that faraway look still on his face. “Helen McRoy. When I was thirteen or so. She was fucking there with me, on the streets, and we had each other’s back. She was older than me, said she was nineteen. Think she was lying, she was fucking younger than that. But she knew the ropes and taught me about protection. Condoms and stuff, and what to be leery of.”

I shiver as the words sink in and the grim picture of his childhood emerges. If he was thirteen when he met Helen, when did he start living on the street? In how much danger was he? And if she was the one who told him about condoms…?

“Wait. You want me to believe that there are people who’d have sex with a kid? And that before meeting this Helen, you used no protection?”

“God, you’re naïve. Believe what you want.” The sneer is back, sharp and ugly. There’s a shimmer to his eyes that turns them into chips of hard, clear glass. “And don’t worry. I’ve been tested many times since. I’m clean as a whistle, so you won’t catch anything from kissing me, I promise.”

Holy crap. “Jesse…”

“I’m done with the stupid Q&A games,” he snaps. No pet names, no teasing gleam in his eyes as he gets to his feet and retrieves my top. He throws it on the bed, and I recoil as if he’s slapped me. “Go back to your pretty world and leave me in mine.”

“I didn’t mean…” My words catch on a strangled sob, and jeez, am I about to make an even bigger fool of myself with a boy who couldn’t care less about me and who thinks asking him about his past is an attack on his pride? “Fine.”

I grab my blouse and pull it on so fast I don’t even check whether or not I’m wearing it backward, hop off the bed and hunt for my purse. Through eyes blinded by tears which I refuse to let fall I find it by the foot of the bed and grab it.

Not another word passes my lips as I let myself out of his room, the last thing I hear before I run out of the apartment the slam of his door, so loud it makes my ears ring.

Running down the steps, with the vo

ice of one of Jesse’s roommates chasing after me, asking me what happened, I put as much distance between us as possible.

I knew from the start this boy would make me cry—hey, I’m shy, not stupid—but I never thought it was going to be so soon, or that it would hurt so much.

“Here you go,” Kayla says, turning my laptop to face me. “Doesn’t it look awesome?”

She’s showing me my brand new website, Amber’s Gems, open on the page of the bracelets, featuring a few of the photos I took of my jewelry.

I nod, my mind elsewhere. I’ve seen the website, obsessed over every detail of it, in fact, since Tyler Grayson set it up for me, insisting he wanted no money from me. I tried telling him I’m not family—not one of the Inked Brotherhood and Co. or the Damage Boyz, but he smiled a secret smile and told me I’d soon be.

I wonder what he sees that I don’t. I mean, I thought the psychic was Kayla, certainly not the tall, dark and brooding brother of Asher.

My few friends from Chicago saw the link to the website I posted all over the social media and went nuts. They promised to order stuff, and seeing their excitement is nice.

And that’s all very well, but it’s not what’s been on my mind.

Jesse. Still processing what happened in his room, from his heated gaze on me, then his hands and mouth, his sure touch and the blinding pleasure—then my questions and his angry words. His angry, truthful words.

“Go back to your pretty world and leave me in mine.”

Those words twist in my heart like knives. I may be naïve, but I know hurt when I see it. He was angry, but underneath there was pain. A lot of pain, and now I know why. I can hardly begin to comprehend the trauma he’s been through, the helplessness, the lack of security and affection.

I wish I knew how to help him. My questions only serve to hurt him more, it seems, and his pain returns, hurting me, too.

Not good. Not good at all. Then why am I ready to chuck my jewelry box to the floor, walk out my door and go find him?

“…and here you should totally put a pic of you wearing some of your jewelry,” Ev is saying, tapping on the laptop screen with her finger. “Amber, have you heard a word I’ve said? I swear, you’re bobbing your head like that Chinese good luck cat that waves her paw at people.”

“Chinese good luck cat that waves her paw at people?” Kayla blinks.

“You know. They have them in Asian restaurants.” Ev waves a hand, her gaze glued on me, questioning. “Where did you go, Amber? Talk to us, girl.”

“I bet she’s boy-dreaming,” Kayla says, and oh God, heat works its way up my neck, a wave of fire under my skin. “Ha, she is! Would you look at that blush.”

No way to hide. Crap.

“Don’t tell me it’s Jesse again,” Ev murmurs, leaning toward me, her face a picture of concern. My blush deepens, scorching my skin, and tears burn my eyes. “Amber…”

“I know.” I put down my jewelry box, suddenly afraid I’ll drop it as a big shudder goes through me. “You warned me.”