Page 38 of Wolf's Providence

His breath hitched, and I felt his grip loosen as if he couldn’t trust himself to be so close to me. The wildness in his eyes was gone, and all that was left was regret.

Shame.

My heart sank as I realized what was happening. He was feeling what he had done, feeling the scars on my abdomen that he had caused.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” I whispered desperately as I reached out for him, my own hand trembling as I reached up and cupped his face. I needed him to understand that I was still here.

But he shook his head, his jaw tight, and the tension radiating from his body was palpable. He was still holding me, but the way in which he held me had changed. Just moments ago, his touch had been almost feral—wild and uncontrolled, like he was on the edge of something he couldn’t come back from. Now, it was different, cautious. Unsure. He was holding me like I might break, as if I were fragile.

Damaged.

“Don’t look.” My voice cracked, a plea of desperation slipping from my lips. It was a stupid thing to say, but I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. I didn’t want him to look at the marks he had left on my skin. I felt his fingers flex against me, against the reminder of what had been done.

Caleb’s head dropped, shielding himself from my gaze. His breathing was heavy and ragged, for completely different reasons than seconds before. I could see him fight to control himself, saw the effort it took in the way his chest rose and fell.

Worse, I could feel it in the bond—the guilt, the shame that he couldn’t shake. It was a suffocating weight, wrapping around us both like a weight neither of us could bear.

“I need to see,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, full of the agony I knew he had been carrying since that night. His eyes flickered to mine, and seeing the self-loathing made my heart squeeze with pain. “I almost lost you, I need to see.”

“No.” My chest was tight, breathing was painful. Shaking my head, I brushed my fingers over his cheek. “This wasn’t your fault. Yousavedme.Youbrought me back.”

But I already knew he wasn’t listening. His eyes dropped to the bottom of my shirt, and with a slow, deliberate push, he lifted the top up, exposing my stomach. I heard the sharp intake of breath, and I turned my head away as I felt his fingers trace the line of my scars. His fingers trembled as they caressed the healed skin. “I never should have done this to you. It should never have gotten so far. I let my darkness—” He stopped, his voice cracking, the pain in his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

“I’m still here,” I whispered, still trying to reach him, still trying to pull him back from spiraling back into the darkness. “We’re both still here,” I reminded him, my throat thick with emotion.

He looked up at me then, his gaze locking with mine, and for a second, I saw a flicker of something else in his eyes. Hope? Or maybe the realization that we were still here, together. But it was fleeting, and before I could hold on to him, he was pulling away, his face hard. Guilt wrapped around him like a shield.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered as he got off the bed. “I could hurt you again. You’re not safe with me, Willow.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” I snapped, pushing my shirt down and sitting up in bed. “I amnotafraid of you, Caleb.”

His jaw flexed, his eyes burning into mine, a mix of frustration and longing swirling together. “Well, then you’re an idiot because you should be.”

Anger had me pushing myself off the bed, closing the distance between us, my fingers jabbing into his chest. “I amnotan idiot,” I whispered fiercely. “Itrustyou.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, the tension between us was so thick I could choke on it. Our bond hummed between us, tugging at us, pulling us closer. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the barely restrained power coiling beneath his skin, and I knew he was resisting it. Resisting the pull between us.

The instinct to protect.

To possess.

I was fighting it too, but for a different reason.

Because despite all the stuff that had happened, despite the scars on my body and the uncertainty of what lay ahead for us, one thing for me was constant.

And that washim. Caleb.

I still wanted him. I needed him.

Him. No one else.

And I needed him to understand that.

I stepped closer until there was hardly space between us, my fingers curling around the edge of the fabric of his shirt, pushing it up, exposing his rock-hard abs. My fingers danced along thegrooves of his body, dipping over the hard planes of muscle. “You didn’t lose me,” I told him, pleased my voice sounded steady, because my heart definitely was not. “You didn’t hurt me on purpose,” I whispered. “And you would never hurt me on purpose.”

He stared down at me, his breathing uneven, his eyes flicking between mine, searching for the lie. His hands hovered near mine, hesitant, like he was afraid to touch me again.

“I never meant to hurt you.” He sounded broken and I knew I was going to cry. “But I did, and I could do it again.”

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