Page 81 of Watch Me Burn
I’m a killer. A man who stalks prey in the night and hides his face even from the woman he loves. What right do I have to mourn the loss of a child I never intended to make? What right do I have to imagine myself as anyone’s father?
But this pregnancy changes everything. It makes this real in a way I never expected. All this time, I’ve kept myself split in two. Damien Wolfe, the billionaire trying to court Luna with normalcy. And her masked lover, her wolf, who gives her nothing more than brutal passion in the dark of night.
Two separate men. Two separate relationships.
But my body betrayed that careful division. My seed grew inside her, a biological truth that mocks the lie I’ve been living. And now there’s a loss that bindsus together in yet another way, a shared grief for something that never had the chance to be.
She deserves better than me. Better than these fucking mind games.
Luna shifts closer, murmuring something in her sleep.
“I’m here, little doe. I’m not going anywhere.”
For tonight at least, I can give her this.
Luna stirs, her eyes blinking open. I’ve watched her for hours, the rise and fall of her chest, memorizing the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks in the dim morning light.
“You stayed.” Surprise colors her voice.
“I said I would.”
She sits up, then winces, her hand going to her lower abdomen. The gesture—so small, so full of pain—cleaves something open inside me. Rage mingles with helplessness, both fighting for dominance and neither winning.
I push off the bed, unable to remain still. My legs carry me to the window, then back to the door, then to the foot of the bed. The room feels too small, the walls pressing in. My hands ball into fists and release, over and over, every muscle in my body screaming for a target I don’t have.
“You’re angry.”
There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“At me?”
I stop pacing to look at her. “Why would I be angry at you?”
She shrugs, the motion small and uncertain. “For getting pregnant. For losing it. For not being able to give you what you need right now.”
Her words trigger another wave of rage, but it’s aimed at myself, at making her believe she’s the problem.
Yes, I was angry at first. At both of us for letting this happen. Until I understood it was inevitable. With how often I come inside her and how much I need to mark her that way, my seed was bound to take root.
I cross to the bed in three strides. I grasp the hair at the back of her head, tilting it back so her eyes meet mine. She gasps at the sting, but no sound follows.
“Listen to me. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry at the situation.” I struggle to put words to the chaos inside me. “At feeling helpless.”
“I know the feeling.” Her smile cracks at the edges. “I feel like my body betrayed us both.”
“No.” The word comes out sharp, like a shard of glass. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true. First, I got pregnant when I shouldn’t have been able to, and then my body rejected it. And now we can’t even—”
“Stop.” I tighten my fingers in her hair, then wrap my other hand around her throat. I don’t cut off her air, but I need her attention. “This isn’t your fault, Luna. Don’t you dare fucking blame yourself. If anything, I did this to you by being too fucking brutal.”
“Rough sex doesn’t cause miscarriages. It just happens sometimes. My body just couldn’t sustain it.”
My grip on her hair tightens. “I said stop. Don’t you ever fucking blame yourself for this again, Luna. Not ever.”
She blinks up at me, eyes wide.
“I mean it.” The words pour out, unstoppable now. “If you do, I swear, when I can finally fuck you again, you won’t be able to walk for a week. You understand me?”
