Home > Roman (Wolves of Winter's Edge #2)(6)

Roman (Wolves of Winter's Edge #2)(6)
Author: T.S. Joyce

“Taking a stroll down memory lane,” he uttered, turning slowly. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and his eyes flashed with something she didn’t understand.

“I figured you didn’t remember that morning.”

Roman’s eyes tightened, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “How could I forget something like that?”

Mila crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, stared off into the woods. She’d found Roman in the woods right after he’d turned seventeen. He’d been kicked out of the pack and had gotten into the whiskey at Winter’s Edge.

And when she closed her eyes, she was transported right back to that moment.

“Roman?”

“Don’t come any closer, Mila. I’m not okay.”

Roman was snarling, and it scared her, but he was her friend. He wouldn’t hurt her. Still, the closer she got to the boy sitting in the snow with his back to her, the heavier the pressure on her shoulders. Roman was a monster who had been very good at hiding. With a whimper, she went down to her knees and crawled closer. “I’m sorry, Roman.”

Roman turned slowly and looked at her, his eyes the color of saturated sunlight, his face twisted into something terrifying. He smelled like liquor, and there was an empty bottle toppled over in the snow. “Can you see them, Mila?”

“See what?” she rasped out, face averted, neck exposed to the animal that was snarling in Roman’s throat.

“The ghosts. They’re always here. Some darkness inside of me draws them. They can see my shadows. I am home to them.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Your mom says she misses you.”

Fury blasted through her. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Everyone thinks the people of this town get buried and they find rest. Not here, though, Mila,” Roman slurred. “Maybe it’s best my dad kicked me out of the pack.” The anger in his voice lashed across her skin like the end of a whip.

“He was wrong, Roman. I won’t join unless he lets you back in. I won’t pledge.”

“You don’t have a choice. You’re submissive. Your life was laid out the moment your wolf came out cowered. Lucky.”

Mila’s eyes burned, and she blinked hard. “You shouldn’t have said that about my mom. You did it to hurt me.”

Roman blurred to her so fast she gasped. He hugged her tight, on his knees in the snow, crushing her to him, rocking gently. Her initial instinct was to push away from the monster and bolt, but Roman was stroking her hair gently, over and over, petting her, calming her. “You’ll pledge to the Striker Pack, and you’ll stay safe. Do you understand? I hate my dad, but he can keep a submissive safe.”

“And you’ll be here, too,” she squeaked out, gripping his shirt. “You’ll be a part of this town, just not in the pack. You can keep me safe, too. You’re my friend. I’ll keep you safe back.”

Roman swallowed audibly. “Sure, Mila.”

And then he’d picked her up like she was a child and carried her to her car. It was an old Buick her dad had just given her for her sixteenth birthday. He tucked her behind the wheel and buckled her in, and then he climbed in the passenger’s seat and told her, “I’m not ready for tonight to be over. Not ready to sleep. Not ready to say goodnight to you, Chicken.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Jack’s.”

Mila wanted to cry at the memory. He’d left the next day without a goodbye, but she’d had that night, eating pancakes at the all-night diner with the boy she’d liked for so long. She’d thought they were bonding and he was starting to like her, but Roman had been silently saying his goodbye to her instead, while she’d been unaware, laughing at all his jokes and feeling happy.

“Do you still see dead people?” she asked, feeling nauseous by how real and unexpected that memory had been.

Roman snorted and made his way toward the jeep. “Nobody sees dead people, Mila. I was just drunk that night.”

But his voice sounded strange, with a note of falseness, and the smile in his eyes had dimmed as he stood holding her door open. While she stared at him, his gaze flicked twice to something in the woods behind her, but when she turned, nothing was there.

And then Roman was grinning when she looked at him again.

More games.

Mila rolled her eyes and muttered, “Fine. Jack’s, but only because I skipped breakfast.”

Chapter Four

Roman scrubbed his hand down his beard and leaned back for the waitress to set the two giant orders of pancakes in front of him. He was having trouble taking his eyes off Mila. When she’d removed her hat and matching pink scarf, her dark bangs had flopped forward in front of her smoky, champagne-colored eyes. She’d grown up to be a fucking ten. Curves just right on her little body, tight ass, perky tits she’d shoved into a push-up bra. He could see the very edge of that bra, nude lace, peeking up out of her white V-neck sweater. A gentleman would’ve told her she was showing bra, but he was no gentleman. So here he sat like the total fuckin’ perv he was, sneaking peeks at that little strip of lace and thanking his lucky stars the table hid his boner.

He needed to cut this shit out. This was the game. This was the hunt. He was supposed to dig into Mila and piss off Rhett, scatter the others, cause reactions, push boundaries. But with every second he was spending with her, he remembered how much he’d liked her when they were kids. He’d stayed in the friend zone, but not because he didn’t want to suck face with her up at Lookout Point. He’d stayed away because she was too fragile, too submissive, too sweet, and too good for him. He’d always been one spark from igniting, and would’ve burned up Mila right along with him.

   
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