Unstoppable (Their Shifter Academy #6) - May Dawson Page 0,48
could do that in a way that was sexy—and began to strip. I reached for his clothes, but he just smirked at me as he rucked his shirt up. “Just sit back and enjoy the show, sweetheart.”
“You are so cocky,” I said.
But I did enjoy the show, as he peeled off his shirt and threw it over his shoulder. He stuck a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and pulled them away from his taut abs, flashing me a look of challenge, that reminded me of how we’d flirted-slash-hated each other in that hotel room on our first adventure together. I crossed my arms and watched him, not even pretending that I didn’t enjoy watching him, until he stood there in all his glory: all chiseled muscles and broad, tattooed chest and the lean taper of his waist.
He shook out his shoulders and a look of concentration came over his face as he tried to turn.
His shoulders shook, his muscles rippling, and it looked as if they were swelling the way the guys did when they partially transformed. I could’ve sworn his face started to change. And then suddenly, it was just Jensen, shaking his head, his face tight with frustration. I wondered if I’d imagined the signs he was shifting.
“Did you feel anything?” I asked.
“I thought I did for a second, and then…” He shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Jensen,” I said.
He frowned. “Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Because it sucks?”
“No, that’s not it,” he disagreed. “You feel bad that you can do something I can’t, don’t you?”
He stepped close to me, cupping my cheek. If I’d been him, I would have been freezing, but Jensen had always run hot; even with the cold outside, I could feel the warmth of his body.
“Don’t waste that guilt on me,” he said. “Yeah, I’m struggling without my wolf. We’re all struggling. But I can still be happy you’ve got yours. I want all the good things in the world for you. Even if I can’t have some of them myself.”
My eyes flooded with tears, blurring the fierce affection on his face. It had been a long few weeks, and he wrapped me up tight in his arms.
“So I’m struggling,” he murmured into my ear. “That’s all right. I’m never struggling alone, and neither are you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Lex
* * *
It was a miracle we were all alive, and all Rosemary could do was bitch.
Penn was in a much better mood than she was, and he’d poured Quick-Clot into his wound, burning his skin red even though it kept the gouge marks from the alpha’s teeth from bleeding any further. He was lying in the backseat, pretending to sleep—but I was pretty sure that was just because he didn’t want to participate in Rosemary’s complain-o-rama.
“I don’t have any of my stuff,” she fussed in the car, when she finally started talking. “Everything is back at the pack. My clothes, my makeup—”
“You don’t need makeup at the academy.”
“I’m not going to your stupid academy.”
I huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Oh? Where are you going, then?”
She twisted to look away from me, her hand on the door as if she might just jump out. For the first time, I noticed her hands looked ragged and dirty; I hadn’t seen her look grubby since we were kids.
“What happened back there?” I demanded.
She shot me a look and didn’t answer.
I didn’t want to fight with her. Not now that the thought of what might have happened in the alpha’s house was cold in my gut.
But if she didn’t want to talk to me, I wouldn’t push her. Not now, in front of Penn, especially.
“I tried to convince Mom to come with us,” I said, just for something to say.
She gave me a long look, as if I were an idiot. “You’re a slow learner.”
She was probably right on that count, but my jaw still set. “Nice, Rosemary.”
She shrugged. “Let me guess. She chose Dad?”
I didn’t have to answer. She waited a beat anyway, then smiled humorlessly. “You’re never going to get them to love you, you know.”
It was true, but it was still harsh. Some truths don’t need to be spoken aloud.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
She admitted, “I could never get them to love me either.”
The words made me want to hug her. Maybe our parents had failed us, and over the years, they’d failed us in ways that had splintered us apart. We were no longer the two kids that used to read out loud to each other