and glowing bright. He wondered if maybe he was dreaming. If he’d fallen asleep by the riverbank under the warm sun and later he’d wake, Pup licking his face and telling him it was time to hunt.
Helena Springs, he repeated in his mind as he read the sign. It sounded like he’d known it a long time ago maybe, but wasn’t sure. He’d lived in Missoula with his baka. And Missoula was in Montana. Montana was in the United States. The United States was in the . . . world. That’s all he knew. His baka had given him a globe once, and he knew about a few other places, knew the world was round, but mostly, he didn’t remember.
He ducked into a dark doorway, looking across the street at the place named on the little piece of paper in Driscoll’s house: Peg’s Diner. It was bright inside and a woman in a pink dress with an apron stood behind a counter, pouring something for people sitting in front of her. Off to the side, there was a glass case filled with . . . pies. His eyes moved slowly, his vision blurred. Sitting at a table at the window was a mom and a little boy, the boy bringing some kind of food to his mouth. A burger. He knew what it was—remembered eating one himself—and even as his head swam, his body would not go quiet and his stomach growled loudly. The boy’s mother smiled at whatever the boy had just said, picking up her own food and taking a bite.
Jak was hungry. Hungry and hurting and alone.
Scared. Confused.
A sound came up Jak’s throat, something he’d never made before.
A couple walked by the diner, holding hands and talking, the man throwing his head back and laughing at something the woman said.
There was no war.
No enemy.
It was a quiet town on a peace-filled night.
Jak had been lied to.
Tricked.
Why, why, why?
The world started spinning.
He fell down to the ground, holding his head as his body began shaking. It had all been a lie.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jak was filled with a breath-stealing mix of happiness and fear. He had someone to trust, someone he might be able to open up to. Maybe not about everything, but most of it. Someone caring and kind, a woman who made his heart thump louder in his chest and made the blood rush more quickly through his veins. A woman he wanted in every way.
He didn’t want anyone to know every terrible thing about the ways he’d survived, but he could tell her most of it. Even he tried to forget some parts, shivered when a memory came to him without him reaching for it. He was afraid Harper would be . . . disgusted if she knew all he’d done to live, but he was also afraid she’d think he was a stupid child to be tricked the way he’d been. All his life . . . a lie, and he still didn’t know the reason why.
Would he ever know now that Driscoll was dead? Did it even matter? He was who he was. That was all.
Harper stood in front of the fire and rubbed her hands together, warming them. He let his eyes move down her body, wanting to pull at her pants, to kneel behind her and put his tongue between her legs from that position. Would she let him? Would her knees shake? Would she touch him again the way she had before? He wanted to make her shake and cry out his name again. Male animals made it known what they wanted and waited for the female to give a sign she wanted it too. But how did a man ask for something like that? Words had made her blush before, and he still wasn’t exactly sure why, but he didn’t think asking for it with words was the right thing to do.
Should he just . . . touch her? Would she like that?
Animals made it easier than people.
She turned, giving him a smile over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she caught his gaze like she’d read the thoughts on his face. The quiet sound of footsteps in the snow caught his attention, soft but coming closer. He turned from Harper, moving toward the door. Listening. Waiting for a scent. The sound got closer, then someone was climbing his steps. A man. That was followed by a knock.
Jak tensed, a growl rising in his throat. When he saw that Harper was