chapter Thirty-Three
New York, New York. Home of the Empire State Building, Times Square, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the best place on Earth. My apartment.
I hadn’t spoken much since we left Louisiana. Callum had been more than willing to give his blessing for us to fly out of Baton Rouge, so not only did we not need to drive two hours back to New Orleans, we also didn’t need to go anywhere near Maurepas.
Good riddance.
Family might be all well and good, but if the McQueens ever wanted to see me again, they’d have to haul their Southern asses north, because with God as my witness I would never again set foot in the great state of Louisiana.
Dominick dropped me off at my front door, and Lucas reminded me we had a meeting with Kimberly the next evening to discuss the final details of our ceremony. I thought I was being pretty gracious when I said, “F*ck Kimberly and whatever white horse she’s hired for you to ride in on.”
Lucas, having already spent the last several hours with my silver-poisoned surliness, just smiled. “We’ll pick you up at seven.”
I grabbed my bag and stomped into my apartment like a grizzly bear with a stubbed toe.
Rio was waiting for me.
“Brreow?”
“I missed you too.”
I dropped my bag on the floor, and she skittered under the loveseat.
Desmond came out of the bedroom, looking deliciously huggable in a soft gray cardigan over a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and his paper-thin at-home jeans. “I thought I heard a circus setting up shop out here. But nope, no elephants. Just my girl.”
I wish that had been the first time someone had compared me to an elephant.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I sighed.
“Where else would I be?” He smiled. “I live here.”
I crossed the room in two steps and threw myself into his arms.
Desmond sneezed. He set me down and sneezed again. “Are you wearing perfume?”
“No.” I never wore perfume. It would be scent overload.
He licked his lips, and a devastated look came over him all at once. He pulled me close, his nose dragging along my neck, and again he sneezed, harder this time.
“Jesus, Des. Are you allergic to me or something?” I was kidding, but the look on his face was too serious to ignore.
“Can you taste me?” he asked, his voice tight with fear.
“Of course I—” But I had to stop when I realized I hadn’t really thought about it. I touched my tongue to my lips. Sucked the inside of my cheeks. Breathed cool air between my teeth. Nothing. Nothing to remind me of margaritas, or key lime pie, or popsicles. “No. I can’t.”
Pain chased worry though his eyes, and he pushed me away.
“You and Lucas…you completed the ceremony, didn’t you? During the full moon.”
I’d planned to tell him, but I had hoped we might have more than five minutes together before I had to.
“Yes.”
“We were supposed to have time, Secret.”
“I didn’t know. We hadn’t planned for it to happen there. I didn’t even know what it was.” I reached for him, but he sidestepped my touch.
“All I can smell is him. I can’t taste you anymore.”
“Desmond…”
He sat on the couch, staring at the fireplace. “He told me he’d wait. He told me it would be at least another month.” He was talking to himself, but the words cut me like tiny little knives.
“Desmond, look at me.”
“It was bad enough when he said he’d send me away if I made a fuss. But this…” He turned to me, nothing but naked anguish written on his features. “How could you let him do this?”
“We had to.”
“Is that what he told you?” Desmond laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Because he’s been so f*cking honest with you in the past?”
I came to stand in front of him, kneeling on the carpet between his legs. I took his hands, and this time he didn’t fight me. I kissed his fingertips and held them over my heart. “He didn’t tell me this would impact you and me. I swear to you.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“But believe me when I say we had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
I shook my head. “When has free will ever come before the needs of the pack?”
He opened his mouth then closed it. His brow furrowed. “When did the needs of the pack ever outweigh what you wanted?” Those words hurt me more than a slap would have. Wasn’t I doing all of this for the pack? Did he honestly think I wanted this? “Did you stop to think about what this would do?”
“Yes.” My throat felt thick, and it was hard to form words.
“Did you think of me at all?”
“Yes.” I squeezed his hand tight. There was a wetness to his long black lashes that hadn’t been there before.
He stood so suddenly I fell backwards and had to release his hand.
“I’ll make sure you have a new queen’s guard before the night is through.”
“I… What?”
“You really don’t understand what’s changed, do you?”
“Lucas and I completed the mate ceremony.”
“He’s marked you. Not like the mate-bond. He’s written himself all over you. Inside you, even. It’s like a tattoo on every part of your being telling other wolves to f*ck off. It tells them you’re his. It tells me you’re his.”
“But I—”
“No. This isn’t something you can rationalize around, Secret. This is something neither of us has a say in anymore. You belong to Lucas. You’re not mine anymore.”
He walked into the bedroom, and I was right on his heels. “You can’t go.”
“I have to. I can’t look at you without seeing him.” Stooping in the closet, he started throwing things on the bed.
“But I love you.”
He stood up, a duffel bag in his hand. The bag dropped, and he crossed the room, pulling me in for a hug that hurt as much as it comforted. “I know.”
“I love you more.” More than Lucas. More than the pack.
Desmond tilted his head back. Our gazes locked, and for a fraction of a second I thought it was enough. I thought the power of love alone would break through whatever was ripping us apart and we’d be okay again.
“And I love you. I do. I love you so much you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thought that crosses my mind before I fall asleep. Loving you is the one thing in life that comes easy to me.” He pressed his hand over my heart, and one tear broke free, landing near his thumb. I choked back a sob. “I love you enough to leave.”
I grabbed him when he tried to break away, yanking him back and kissing him. It wasn’t passionate, it was needy and desperate, my urgency laid raw as I foraged past his lips and tried to make him remember the part of us worth fighting for.
I tried to appeal to the part of him that knew I hadn’t given up on us. That knew I’d never give up.
He broke away and wiped a pink tear off my cheek.
“I have to go,” he whispered.
“No.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
“You just said there’s always a choice. You can’t have it both ways.” I grabbed the duffel bag from him and threw it back in the closet. “I almost died out there.” I lifted my shirt and showed him the new bullet scar between my ribs.
He sat on the bed, and for a moment I was reminded of our first fight in this bedroom.
I pleaded with him, using his own words from that fight. “You told me once nothing could match how you feel when you’re with me. So stay with me.”
“It’s different now.”
“Why?”
“Because now you’re really his.”
“I don’t belong to Lucas. I don’t belong to anyone.”
He looked at me, and that one look said it all. One look broke my heart. “No. You don’t belong to anyone. You don’t belong to me. Not anymore.”
The bag re-emerged from the closet, and he put his things in it. I sat in the chair by the door and watched him. The tears didn’t come now. I didn’t cry or scream. I didn’t say a thing as he packed up his half of the life we’d built together like all we were were items in a drawer.
When he went to the door and pulled on his jacket, I stood in the middle of the living room and let out one shuddering wheeze.
“I’m sorry,” he said, like apologizing would somehow heal the hole he was punching in my lungs.
“Then don’t go.”
He shook his head. “I can’t stay. Seeing him all over you… I can’t touch you with him on you. I can’t be here with the constant reminder. I love you, but I can’t be the loser who held on long after the battle was lost.”
“It’s not…”
“It’s over.”
“But—”
“I want to love you. But if I do it like this…it will kill me.”
He stepped through the open door and closed it behind him.