Fable (An Unfortunate Fairy Tale #3)(68)

He tried to keep the walls in his mind up but Sally was strong and she pushed through with little effort. He waited for her to see what he had become and then run screaming from the room. He felt her presence, but it wasn’t the same as the mate bond, there was no intimacy involved, and yet at the same time he felt very vulnerable.

She stepped back as her hand dropped and her eyes opened. She met his gaze and her face became stern.

“She could help,” she told him firmly, but her words were gentle.

“At what cost to herself?” he asked.

“It is her right to sacrifice for you, just as much as it is your right,” she continued before he could speak. “It’s spreading inside of you like a disease and eventually your wolf will take over. The wolf taking over, all instinct, without any of the reasoning of the man would be a very, very bad thing. You know this and still you hold back. She is aching and empty because of your refusal to allow her to be what you need.”

“You saw what happened?” He asked, knowing she would understand that he was asking her about his memories.

She nodded.

“You saw who touched her, who she willingly allowed and yet that doesn’t anger you?” His voice dropped to a growl.

“It wasn’t real, Fane. It was a curse that fed our deepest fears. She has suffered enough and you are causing her more pain than the curse did. You have to find a way to let it go. You need her and she needs you. If you can’t talk to her right now then talk to someone because you are on a war path to self-destruction, and if you lose this battle, it won’t only be Jacque who suffers.”

He watched as Sally walked from his room, closing the door gently behind her. He knew what she said was true. He had to fix this mess he had created. He needed his mate, needed her like a drowning man needed air. Sally spoke of Jacquelyn aching and his gut plunged to the ground. He knew that ache—it was his constant companion as well. His arms longed to hold her, his wolf needed to possess her and he needed to love her, to show her how desperately he loved her.

He didn’t know if he had pushed her too far, if she would forgive him. He didn’t know how to tell her about the madness inside of him. He didn’t know how to bear his weaknesses and shame to her, but he knew that if he didn’t he would destroy them both.

“Love, we need to talk,” he sent through their bond and pushed so that it penetrated the wall she was keeping between them. He felt her shock, and then the utter despair that filled her, rush through to him. “Please, Jacquelyn, come back so we can talk.”

He held his breath, waiting for her answer, praying it wasn’t too late.

“It’s about damn time,” she growled at him.

He nearly fell to his knees and wept as she reminded him of who she was. She was his and she wasn’t giving up on him.

“No I’m not giving up on you, but I just might kill you.” She was coming to him; he could feel her getting closer.

“If dying by your hand means I can feel your touch, then you can kill me a thousand times.” He knew his words sounded as fraught as he felt.

“Don’t tempt me.”