Captured - Cara Wylde Page 0,43

sat up so I could lather her back. “I really am. I hope Jax and Reid didn’t think it was your fault. It wasn’t. You were so kind to me. Still are. I was stupid to do what I did.”

“Water under the bridge, I guess.” I wasn’t so sure Jax and Reid thought that, but I was starting to forgive her. Little by little.

“I don’t want to leave. Not anymore.”

“Is that so?” I looked her in the eyes. “Tell me, Isabel. Do you enjoy having sex with us? Or you’re just doing it to save your skin?”

“What?! No! I would never…” She seemed genuinely distressed. “I would never let you or anyone else use my body unless I desired it. I like you. The three of you.” She blushed deliciously. “I like what you do to me, the way you make me feel… I’ve never… I mean, I wasn’t a virgin, you know that. But none of the men I’ve been with before made me feel the way I feel when I’m with you, Reid, and even Jax.”

I let out a breath of relief, though I tried to make it subtle. I didn’t want her to know how concerned I’d actually been that she didn’t really want what we were doing to her. I cared. I knew Jax and Reid probably didn’t, but I cared about her enjoying herself and wanting us to take her, break her, and put her back together.

“Good,” I said. “Because we’ve got no intention to stop.”

She giggled. “Okay. Promise?”

I couldn’t help a smile. “Promise.” Moments like this, when it was just the two of us, were precious to me. She made me feel silly. I hated it and loved it at the same time. I feared it and craved it.

“I used to paint,” she said as her eyes drifted back to my old paintings. “I wasn’t very good, though. Not as good as you.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I murmured.

“Oh, it is.” She laughed. “Trust me. My parents wanted me to be good at everything. I took piano lessons when I was little, painting classes, I learned how to dance and sing… At some things, I was average at best. I really wasn’t a talented kid.”

I furrowed my brows. “So much privilege, so many opportunities. So much money to do absolutely anything you wanted. And still, your family chose hunting and taxidermy. That was the one thing they decided was great as a hobby.” I huffed. “Humans.”

“What do you mean? You know I never agreed to what they did. I’m not like them.”

“You’re all the same. You live down there, in the wide, modern world, and you take it for granted. Meanwhile, we’re here, forced to hide in the mountains to protect ourselves. We can’t enjoy the things you have, the things you don’t even realize are privileges people like me and my wolves can never have. Art.” I huffed and shook my head. “Art is a luxury here. When we go down for supplies and we’re stressed that humans might discover what we are at any moment, we rarely think of grabbing brushes, acrylics, books, ink. In the Woodward Pack, I’m the only one who’s ever showed interest in art and literature. They laugh at me sometimes, but I know. I know how important it is, and I know that if we had access to real art and real entertainment, we’d live better lives. Happier lives. Beautiful lives.”

My voice must have taken on a sad, dark tone, because Isabel was looking at me with tears in her eyes. She cried a lot lately, so it wasn’t like it was anything new.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Yeah right. You’re sorry. You should have done something with your life. You had everything you needed. And you’re telling me you were barely average with such nonchalance.” I fixed her with a harsh gaze. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve given to have what you had? The money, the opportunities, the access to art and beauty… You and your family threw it all out the window. And now you’re here.”

“I’m here…”

“I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“I’m really sorry, Thorn. I don’t know what to say. I want to make you feel better.”

I grinned. “You’ll make me feel better in a bit.”

I helped her out of the tub and gave her a towel to dry herself off. When she was done, I motioned toward the bed. She lied down, and I grabbed some rope I had lying around and