“Kane didn’t do that.”
“Kane’s not a werewolf. The culture is different, Emma. We’re separate from other shifters.”
Emma ran her knuckles along the short scruff on his jawline and rested her cheek against his arm. “Home is where you rest your bones. Sounds like a sad life to never understand what a real home is.”
Dustin stared off into the woods and shook his head. “I never knew what I was missing, and I never cared until I met you. Until I came here and saw how a crew could work. How it could be under Kane.”
“You want that now?”
He dipped his chin once. “When I was a kid, my mom, she planted flowers everywhere at every rental house we moved into. We would stay there a year tops, so she would never get to see her gardens in full bloom, and it was kind of tragic, you know? She was so sad with my dad, but she was all smiles when we would work in her gardens. I think she was bright before my dad put a wolf in her. One of those naturally happy people, like you and Winter and Rowan. So, growing up, each house we would move to, I would make a wish for my mom. Every time the clock turned to the number 11:11 or 10:10, I would put my finger on the numbers, close my eyes, and wish we could stay in a house long enough for my mom to see her garden in bloom.”
Emma’s eyes prickled with tears at the imaginings of Dustin as a sweet child, making wishes for his momma. “Did it ever work?”
Dustin’s lips pursed into a thin line, the expression at odds with his naturally smiling face. He shook his head. “Not in time. She stopped gardening when I was in college. She just…quit. Stopped smiling, stopped laughing. And anyway, my parents’ pack is still on the move. It’s the way the alpha likes to operate, so they do what he says. I asked her once what her favorite flower was. I remember we were in this rental house up in Portland, and it rained a lot while we were there, but that day, it was sunny. I was weeding. God, I was always weeding with her because it was mindless work and she was nice to me. She didn’t shame me for being submissive, so I was squatted down in the dirt, maybe ten years old, and I asked her, ‘Mom, what’s your favorite flower?’ She was standing beside me, the sun behind her like a halo, making her look beautiful, like an angel, and she smiled so big. It had been a bad week with Dad, and I’d missed her smile. She pointed to this green vine with these little purple flowers that looked like trumpets. Morning Glories, she called them. She said they were her favorite because they only opened up during the day when the sun was out. At night, the flowers closed up so they could keep the darkness away.”
Dustin reached into his back pocket and handed her a packet of Morning Glory seeds. “Last night I wished on 10:10 and 11:11 that I could plant you a garden here, and that I would live long enough to watch it bloom with you.” When his eyes filled with deep emotion, he blinked hard, then stood. “I’m going to grab a beer. Do you want anything?” His voice cracked on the last word.
Emma didn’t understand what was happening. “Dustin, you will live long enough, you silly wolf. Your wish will come true.”
“You don’t understand,” he gritted out. He angled his face away from her, and his teeth were clenched now. “Those wishes never come true.” He dipped his blazing gaze to the packet of seeds in her hand, then turned and strode for the trailer without looking back.
And now Emma was left with this hollow feeling, as if he’d given her all of his secrets and none of them, all at once.
Chapter Thirteen
Pocket buzzing incessantly, Dustin’s phone went off again. Only the Valdoro pack and the Blackwing Crew had this number, and he’d just spent all evening with the Blackwings, so it wasn’t them calling. He couldn’t put this off any longer.
He’d avoided Axton and Jace’s calls like the plague over the last few days, ever since they’d seen him and Emma in the woods. Ever since they’d called him, howling, drawing his wolf back. If Emma hadn’t been there distracting him, Axton would’ve succeeded. He would’ve dragged Dustin right back to him, and hurt Emma. Jace would have hurt her too, if Axton commanded it. They didn’t care about hurting women. They didn’t care about anything.
And once upon a time, Dustin had convinced himself he was the same as them. As if he was exactly like all the other psychotic werewolves in the world—normal for a wolf, even if he’d always been on the fringe. But over the past couple of weeks, such a strong desire to protect not only Emma, but the other Blackwings, had presented inside of him. He really was a broken wolf.
Somewhere in their history, wolves had separated themselves from other shifters and began culling their submissives. And without people to protect, their wolves had gone mad with bloodlust that, honestly, werewolves didn’t put much effort into controlling.
And Axton was the most dangerous of all.
Oh, Dustin had grown up with him. He’d watched him mature from a rambunctious pup to a heartless alpha who functioned best with blood on his hands.
It wasn’t as if Dustin had been ignoring the danger. On the contrary, he’d been watching Emma like a hawk. Stalking her like Beast had stalked him, but not for the same reasons. He was on a mission to keep her safe no matter the cost. Because if Emma didn’t exist in this world, it was nothing but a dark and empty place. Like Axton’s soul.
Dustin was going to die tonight.
He ran his hands through his hair and rested his elbows on his knees. He was sitting on the foot of his bed in the motel room. He’d been given one job by his pack, one that could’ve saved his brother—vengeance. And he couldn’t do it. Not anymore. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown this bond with the Blackwings and sewn his soul to Emma. Axton had called him a grenade. His brother had told him he would destroy the Blackwings, and therefore the Bloodrunners, from the inside out. Axton said he would tell him when to pull the pin, but now it was his pack who would lose out.