Something was wrong. Amateur-hour wolf-girl should have never gotten the jump on April, no freaking way. April could not put her finger on what, but ever since the Lilitu ceremony, she did not feel normal. Crazy exhausted. Not as quick or strong. Shaky. Her super-hearing was obviously on the fritz since she didn't hear the bitch until she was up April's ass.
Hell, she'd almost vamped out in front of a ton of people. The blood...God. The scent was so different: free-flowing, overpowering, and better than the blood bags at home. Those had the flavor of a rare steak, full of iron. No, what wafted from that body was smooth like honey and molasses. Sweet and decadent like dark chocolate. Sinful.
April reacted on instinct, her canines extended and ready. Her body thrilled as if asleep and coming back to life. She imagined running to the body, getting down on all fours, lapping up the red stuff like a kitten at a saucer of milk. And when that was gone, the first person she saw would be her prey. April would have reveled in it—and hated herself later. The only reason she stopped was because of Wes.
And then there was Miles. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. Miles was an idiot—a stupid, mother fucking son of a bitch.
April gave him a chance, one that most hunters wouldn't. Shit, Wes would have killed the kid if she hadn't stopped him. That was the job. Contrary to what Miles thought, he wasn't a bad guy, and he wasn't a monster. He only fell head-over-feet for the wrong codependent were-girl. April tried and couldn't save him...like she couldn't save her mom. Regret turned her stomach and filled her with a rage that was boiling over. And boy, did it boil over.
April kicked open the front door, the rebound nearly knocking poor Wes in his handsome face as he entered. Thank God for vampire reflexes. Her bag met the wall with a rather satisfying metallic thud. Yeah, her dad would not be happy with the dent, but who the fuck cared what he thought? If he cared, her dad would be home.
The photo above the mantle snagged April's attention. Man, she used to love that damn photo. The way she and Dylan were smiling, baby Jamie between them with a grin showcasing his dimple. How her father's arm wrapped around her mother's shoulders in such a caring and protective way. The way her mom leaned into him.
The photograph was too damn perfect. It resembled one of those generic photos that came with the frame. The truth was the five of them at one time were so happy. That was back when April thought they were a "normal" family. Long before she learned Abigail Stuart Winchester was a goddamn monster before April realized her mom's curse passed down to her.
Now she hated the fucking photo.
The ceramic lamp left her hand, crashing into the family above the fireplace, the fallen glass tinkling onto the wooden floor. Broken. And, man, destruction felt good.
Blurring over to the mantle, she sent everything crashing to the floor with a swipe of her arm. She walked across to the dining room, crushing the shards to powder under her combat boots, finding her next target. The mug had three small handprints and said Happy Mother's Day. Her mom legit wept when she opened the gift and used the mug every day afterward until the day she...
In a flash, April pitched the cup against the wall, and it was no more. It ceased to exist.
April momentarily forgot she had an audience until Wes appeared in her path, catching her wrists in his powerful grasp. And she was having none of that. She shook out of his hold, sending him a death stare warning.
"April...you don't want to do this! What is going on with you?"
Who the hell was he to tell her what she wanted? Like the mature adult she was, April flipped him off as she advanced to the hutch where her mom stored her fancy dishes. You know, the stuff that sat unused until a family holiday gathering. God, her mom loved the holidays.
She was about to break those when her eyes locked on the mirror lining the cabinet and froze. Her reflection. The obstinate chin. Those ebony waves. The eyes, albeit a different shade, were the same shape. All so reminiscent, making April's heart clench. Genetics sure was a bitch. She just wanted to forget, and she needed her to go away...
Before reason took over, emotion put her fist straight through the cabinet door. The glass sliced and embedded deep in her forearm, the blood dribbling over her palm in a steady stream. Flesh burned and throbbed as the wound gushed with every beat of her pulse, and yet, she didn't give a damn.
"Shit."
Wes grabbed April around the waist and tossed her onto the couch. Her rear bounced on the seat from the impact. Before she blinked, he was on his knees before her, trying to assess the damage. She attempted to stand, but he shoved her back on the cushion.
His eyes snapped up, pupils flared. "No. You sit your ass down. What the hell is wrong with you?"
The answer was everything—everything was wrong. Today all mixed up into a perfect shit smoothie. The drink of the day: one dead mom, plus one absent father, with a dash of distant twin brother, add a splash of a suicidal reluctant werewolf. Blend well. Voila. And the drink was hard to swallow—as hard to keep down as the sorrow and acrid bitterness rising in her chest.
With her adrenaline pumping, she was ballsy. He'd asked, so she'd answer.
"He's right," she admitted, a brittle laugh bursting through hot tears as Wes removed shards out of her skin. A hiss escaped as he extracted a sizeable chunk with a harsh tug. "We're monsters."
He didn't stop playing Dr. Sexy, M.D. to look up, but she knew that he had rolled those dark eyes under the lowered lashes.
"No, you're not," Wes said in a way she almost believed as he tried to angle the flashlight on his cellphone at her wound. The way he emphasized the word "you're" did not go unnoticed. He intentionally omitted himself from the same category. "Look, you did nothing. A monster would have murdered everyone. You didn't."
April tilted her head back, and now she was the one rolling eyes so far they rolled down her throat. No, she didn't, but she had thought about killing, and her body definitely reacted.
"You're just out of practice around these types of situations—Shit." He continued removing fragments, fumbling in the dark since she had busted that lamp. Oops.
"Or I'm becoming something to hunt. And despite the fact, Miles offed himself rather than try to live. He's right, though—it's instinct. Part of our nature."
Wes's lashes tilted up, revealing steely eyes, a deep snicker rumbling from him. "And you didn't think mine didn't? After all this time, it still burns. Hell, don't forget you're half-human. I'm doing my best right now with you bleeding all over me. Don't forget, I can remember what you…"
He broke off, slamming his eyes shut. For a split second, April could make out the tip of a fang pressing on his lower lip. The canine retreated with the shake of his head. He took a deep breath before he continued."I've learned that humans get twitchy if you react in any way unnatural or suspicious. That's our survival instinct, our self-preservation. We have to blend. You having your fangs out was the opposite of blending. What if another hunter had shown up? What if they spotted a vampire and not the daughter of an illustrious Winchester, huh? Then what? You want hunters to look at you that way if you go down that road?"
She'd known the answer for a while. "If that ever happened, I won't have my dad hunt me. I won't. He won't have that on his hands. It'll end with mine."
He raised his eyes, and she held his stare.
The moment those words left her, Wes's entire body stiffened. She sensed the emotions rolling off of him and saw them in his eyes. Anger. Sadness. Disbelief. Disappointment. Pain. All of that was her fault.
Tears blurring her vision, April pushed off the couch. She needed to be alone. She needed space. Before she could register what was happening, she was in the air, tossed over his shoulder like a frickin' sack of potatoes. Her feet kicked the air in protest, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt.
"Dammit, Wes! Put me down!" She drove a fist into his kidney, his only reply a deep grunt.
"Put! Me! D—" Oof! Her stomach bounced on his broad shoulder with every deliberate bounce he put on each stair.
When her fists weren't doing the job, she tried her legs. But Wes saw that coming, and he clamped those down before she could get him where it counted, pinning them to his chest.
"Did you really just try to kick me? You try that again—"
"Yeah, what if I try that again," she snapped, squirming against his grip.
"You try that again..." He chuckled darkly. One of his hands slid up the back of April's thigh, settling under the curve of her rear.
Oh.
Well then.
Sure as hell wasn't the best time, but her thoughts gleefully leaped into the gutter.
It was probably because of blood loss...
Or that she was upside down...
Or that his arm was around her legs…
There was something wrong with her for sure.
She tugged on his jeans and couldn't help but admire what he had going on in back. And then her dirty mind went back to his threat. And no clothes. She very much wanted a look at that tight...
"Ass! You are such an ass, Wes. Now let me go!"
The bathroom door flew open, the vanity light flickered and steadied. April's behind unceremoniously plopped down on the countertop. The last time she had sat like that, her legs dangling, was when she had fallen off her bike. She had been nine and it had been her dad cleaning and bandaging the gash on her knee. Picturing that snapped her filthy brain straight outta dirty-land.
Wes leaned over her in a soundless fury, concentrating only on her injury. The blood slowed but was still trickling, which made no sense. Her vampire awesomeness should have kicked in—the cut should be healing by now. Stringing together an impressive swear combo, Wes grabbed a towel and applied pressure. Ouch. Okay, a little too much pressure.
Woah. A wave of dizziness swept over her, almost tipping her off the ledge. His free arm shot out and steadied her.
"Careful. If it doesn't stop bleeding, I'm going to have to give you stitches," Wes warned between gritted teeth, squatting in front of her. He appeared to be in pain, all the while still holding her arm tight. "These are pretty deep."
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
Her eyes drifted down over herself to find her skin and clothes splattered in blood. Her skin was somehow sticky and encrusted at the same time. Something gunked up her hair, making her ponytail crunchy. Blech. She was super gross. As if reading her mind, Wes reached over and twisted, almost snapping off the shower knob.
They sat together in complete cringe-worthy silence as the room filled with steam, the air as thick as the tension between them. Wes spent the time checking her over for other injuries.
A lump throbbed on the back of her head from her hit to the floor. Two fingers lifted her chin, shifting her face from side to side. From Wes's growl, he found marks from her near strangulation. Thankfully by the time condensation coated the mirror, her arm was healing.
She flinched as Wes removed his hand as if her skin burned. That cut her deeper than the glass.
"Go clean up." And then he left, slamming the door to her adjoining bedroom so hard the wall shook.
Well...alrighty then.
April scooted off the counter and stripped off the day. After placing her phone on the counter, she tossed the filthy clothes into the wicker hamper and resigned herself to the face that those jeans were a lost cause—her favorite pair too. Damn. Her fingers gingerly slid the tie from her hair, wincing when it got caught in crusty tangles at the ends. All that remained was the silver pendant around her neck, which she placed on the soap dish for safekeeping.
A dull ache radiated from her lower back as she stepped over the tub ledge. She gasped when the spray hit her arm, the incision still very raw and raised. It would likely leave a noticeable scar. April grabbed her loofah, scrubbing the dirt and blood from her skin. Her face met the warm running water, and the hostility seeped from her body.
She took the longest shower of her life. No shame. To be honest, it surprised her Wes hadn't busted in to see if she'd passed out. Come to think of it, she was feeling jittery, the four-cups-of-coffee-shakes. Her skin was buzzing. Had to be from the injury, nothing to worry about...right?
April stared down at the dial, focusing her powers to turn it off.
Nothing. The damn dial didn't even jiggle.
She reached up to her neck. Huh. Nope, she had taken off the necklace.
That was...weird. She turned it off the old-fashioned, non-lazy human way.
Sliding the curtain open her fingers groped for a towel, finding one on the rack before drying off. She was careful to avoid the deep purple bruises peppering her legs and hips. Yeah. Vampire healing or not, she was going to be sore. She wrapped the plush towel around herself, tucking it securely between her breasts.
Crash!
Her heart stopped.
Did something follow them home? Other werewolves in Vera's pack? Hunters?
Oh shit.
Wes.
Her heart thundered in her chest as April flung open the door to her room. She flipped on the light, scanning the room, stopping at the smashed mirror above her dresser. Her eyes widened at the wooden and glass slivers scattered over the gray carpet. Wes's back was to her, his legs wide, his hands clenched at his sides. His tense back muscles moving with his rapid breaths under his shirt. What remained of his bandage and splint interspersed among the wreckage. It didn't take a psychic to figure out the sound she'd heard was when he had punched the mirror—hard.
Her stare found his injured arm, the full scope of his burns visible that made her gasp. Covering his arm were layers of raised, angry red scars from wrist to mid-bicep. His t-shirt sleeve did a fine job of obscuring some damage. And it must still hurt like a bitch because he twitched as he opened and closed that fist.
She took two tentative steps beyond the threshold into her room. "Wes, what the hell are you—" He twisted towards her voice.
Quicker than she could react, her back met the wall with a thud, the drywall cracking a vein where it met the ceiling. His menacing obsidian ensnared April's round eyes. They were so dark they reminded her of the ocean on a moonless night. Endless. Churning. His arms locked on either side of her head.
"I didn't get you away from Lilith for you to—," he sneered, his chest rising and falling irregularly. "What you did tonight? Going in by yourself? Was reckless and stupid—"
"Oh, come on, it wasn't being stupid—"
Bending at the elbows, he tilted forward, his biceps bunching. Wes's narrowed gaze locked on her. "Shut. Up. I'm not finished. I let you go to that house alone—"
Woah. Hold the fuck up. Wait a minute...let her?
Her eyes narrowed. "Ex-fucking-cuse me? Yeah, you didn't let me do—" The fierce glint in his stare immediately made her clamp her mouth shut. Oh boy. He was furious.
"If you don't think for one second that I couldn't stop you, then you are insane. Yeah, I allowed you to go in alone...because I thought you needed it—you needed it for yourself. You needed a win. That's pretty fucking obvious from what I saw this morning."
She tried to swallow the knot in her throat, ignoring the burn behind her eyes. "Wes, I…"
He leaned closer, his words a gentle breeze on her skin. "But then I found you pinned to floor and—"
"I had them under control," April shot back, her fists balled at her sides. He pushed off the wall and stood, taking a step forward, all up in her personal space. Every part of her body was instantly aware of his proximity. His chest rising against hers. The scratchy brush of his denim against her bare legs. His breath on her sensitive skin.
"No, you didn't," Wes scoffed, the rough tone in stark contrast to the tender way his knuckles stroked her jawline. "After what happened downstairs tonight, you've shown you have nothing under control. And I get it. You're in the shit of everything now, and time will help you process. But that might….that might mean you taking a step back and not hunting for a while until you get your head on straight..."
"Wes—oh come on, I can handle it..."
He held her chin steady, dipping his downward, forcing her attention. "You're telling me that if I hadn't gotten to that room, you would still be alive? The way I saw it, if I would have waited another damn minute, it would have been your head on the floor—"
"I was about to—"
"Die, April. You were about to die. And I can't…"
"Can't what," she challenged, her brows drawn together. In that instant, she wanted her fist to meet his misogynistic face. "Can't let me do this on my own? Why? Because I'm a girl or-"
"I can't lose you!" Her body jolted when his hands angrily slapped the wall beside her head, sliding down beside her hips. He shuddered as he rested his forehead against hers, his mouth parting on a shaky exhale.
Her heart lodged in her throat. "What?"
When he pulled back and lifted his lashes, she could see the pain in his gorgeous oil-sheen eyes. Crushed. Utterly devastated. The sick realization sank in her stomach like a stone. Breaking news: the world didn't revolve around April. She wasn't the only one who suffered through a shit ton of emotional garbage.
He lost Jenny. Sure, his ex-fiancee was a freaking psychopath. Either by guilty conscience or choice, he stayed by her side all that time. Wes's allegiance, although misguided, meant something.
Most agonizing of all, Wes lost Jesse. They may have bitched and irritated the hell out of one other, but that's what brothers did—and family wasn't just by blood. Damn, she couldn't imagine that pain if she lost Dylan or Jamie. Knowing that part of Wes's anxiety was losing her? Crap.
Her hands landed on his chest, his inhales and exhales uneven under her trembling palms. "Wes...I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
He barked out a raspy laugh, shaking his head. "God, April. Don't apologize. None of this shit is your fault. Do you hear me? You got caught in the Lilith bullshit and you don't deserve any of the fallout."
Well, wasn't that the damn truth?
A tingle ran through her as his hands caressed her bare arms, and it was a delicate reminder that he wasn't dead. They should be thankful that they could even argue; it proved they were both still alive. And as infuriated as he was—and boy, he was—he was touching her as if she was priceless and precious.
"I was off my game tonight," she confessed softly, trying to hold back the waterworks for as long as possible. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't enjoy crying. Emotions were a weakness that led to terrible decision making. Ask anybody in the Winchester clan."I let my guard down and...I thought if I could just save someone.." She swallowed, trying to hold the levee. "I think it's pretty obvious that I'm a fucking mess right now..."
An involuntary whimper tightened her throat and cut off her words. Hot tears filled her eyes. And then his strong arm wrapped around her like a warm fleece blanket on a wintry morning, hugging her tight to his body. Her cheek nestled into Wes's chest, his hand making soothing passes through her damp hair. His lips pressing a soft touch against her temple triggered her honesty—the words came out of her mouth like someone had unkinked a garden hose at full blast. "I think I hate my mom."
Wes's arm tightened around her and his hand stilled. "What?"
"I hate her." Those words rolled off her tongue far too easily. A vile sourness in the pit of her stomach replaced the brief wave of relief. God, she was awful. Ungrateful. An all-around shitty daughter.
"Jesus. April, have you—have you talked about any of this with anyone?"
"I tried with Dylan for a hot minute. But—I was hurting him."
"So no one else? Not your Dad?" She had a good laugh at that. The only thing currently reachable of Dean Winchester was his voicemail. April shook her head, her nose rubbing against cotton.
Wes swore softly, taking a step back while keeping a soft grip on her upper arms. His endless black eyes were transfixed on her as if she was the most meaningful thing in the world. And at that moment, she was. "Then tell me. Talk to me."
Near hysterical laughter rose from her throat. "If I do that right now, I'll probably break stuff." She wiggled free before crossing her arms over her chest, shifting from one foot to the other. Her nerves were shot, bringing her walls back up. Talk? But wasn't that what she wanted? Someone to listen? But what if he judged her? What if what came out was so awful, or she sounded so crazy that he would decide she was a nut-bar and not worth his time? What if he decided to leave?
"Yeah, you might break stuff, but better than you putting your hand through glass again, right? Stuff can be replaced, April. You can't."
God.
"So come on, holler, scream, punch me if you need to. Come on, I know part of you wanted to punch me a few minutes ago," Wes teased, his one side of his mouth tipped up. He knew her too well. "But, sweetheart, you need to let it out or let it consume you. Look, I'm not expecting you to bare your soul here. I'm not. Just tell me anything. I'm here for you."
'I'm here for you.' His words were so utterly simple, and yet they meant everything. How long had she needed someone to say that to her in the last couple of months?
She started once. Twice. Her mind searched for the words, but nothing came out. Her lips mashed and rubbed together. God, giving life to those thoughts, scared her to death. And, boy, she had some doozies bouncing around in her noggin. And once they were out, there was no taking them back. But, even if she would never tell him, Wes had a point. And she was sick of feeling like she was standing in quicksand, remaining still to survive. Every time April fought, she sunk further into herself.
Nodding, she dragged in a deep breath and clamped her eyes, knowing there'd be no way to speak if she saw his reactions. Her hands dropped to her sides, opening and closing. Nervous electricity danced over her body, grounded only by his soft yet, the firm hold was a lifeline.
"I hate Mom for what she did to Dad," she blurted out. "She tricked him. She lied to him. She fucking broke him, Wes. She lied to all of us, but what she did to him—when she said that she loved him..."
Once the pressure was released, and regardless if she wanted to, nothing was going to stop it. All the bitterness. The rage. Resentment. Denial. Determination. Hurt. Loneliness. Abandonment. Most of all, the crippling guilt that was eating away at her psyche. That she was alive and didn't deserve to be. It all came out in broken thoughts, sounding like the mad ramblings of a disturbed person. Yet, Wes didn't say a word the entire time, and April did not seek his response. Frankly, she didn't want to know. Through some junctures, she noticed the pinch of his fingers.
Then, like a boiling tea kettle, after the words failed, all she could do was scream. Her eyes squeezed shut so tight she could see white flashes. She screamed and screamed until her throat burned with raw fire. Things in the room began to shake.
Her headboard bounced off the wall.
A light bulb exploded.
Picture frames rattled and fell off the wall.
The door next to her opened and slammed.
The heel of her hand pressed into her sternum. When hoarse whimpers gave way to wracking sobs shuddering her body, her shaky legs failed. April braced herself for the inevitable harsh jolt of her knees hitting the floor that never came. Strong arms caught her and pulled her to him until her toes barely touched the carpet. Her legs and arms wrapped around Wes on instinct, clinging onto him like ivy on an old building.
She hadn't realized they'd moved until the bed squeaked and dipped. Wes sat on the edge, holding her in his lap. The sweetness of his lips brushing her forehead only made her cry harder. Rubbing calming circles on her lower back, his other hand guided her head to his shoulder. April didn't fight it. She was too frazzled. With her chest flush against his, April could sense him shuddering, evidence of how her words affected him with every breath. She wiggled her arms free, wrapping them around his chest, holding him as close as he held her.
April didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to one another in darkness, and silence, but at some point, the well ran dry and the tears stopped coming.
"I'm so sorry," his voice trembled as he squeezed her tight.
She squeezed him back. "Wes, you have nothing to be sorry for."
His reply was a deep, unsettling laugh that sent a chill down April's spine. There was something left lingering there, and whatever it was, it didn't give her the warm and fuzzies.
"What?"
"Nothin'. Just forget it."
She briefly thought about pushing back, pressing him for answers, but knew better. If cornered, Wes was fight or flight. Right now, she didn't like either option until she could give him her full, undivided attention. She decided to put a pin in it for later when she wasn't the conductor of the emotional hot mess express.
"Thank you for being here," she sighed, nuzzling into his t-shirt. "I'll be honest, I'm surprised you didn't run for the hills when you had the chance after this morning." His cheek smiled before he moved to kiss the top of her head, which coursed through her whole body. It surprised her that something as sweet and innocent as a little peck meant so much more now.
"Well, I wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if I ran off when shit got rough, right?" She leaned back, her eyes wide. Boyfriend. He'd honestly said that word. A slow grin spread across his face before slipping. "Look, you're tough as nails, one of the bravest people I've ever known. But after everything you've gone through, I wasn't expecting you to be perfect. I still don't. And we'll get through this," Wes promised, holding onto the nape of her neck as he leaned his forehead against hers. "April, when I told you I loved you..."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Can I be honest? I thought you felt obligated to tell me that so I wouldn't look like an idiot after I blurted it out."
He chuckled, bringing his hands to her jawline. Tilting her head back, he brushed his nose against hers. "Nope. Yeah, sure, I may have thought I was going to die and needed to get it off my chest, but I had been holding back."
Holding back? Well, that piqued her interest. "For how long?" Her fingers wrapped around his wrists as his thumbs stroked her jawline.
"You sure you want to know? They do say curiosity killed the cat." He dragged his lips over her cheek.
"Well, the cat is as dead as that dumbass cliché, so spill."
His laugh shook her. "Well, nosy," he paused, tapping her scrunched nose. "If it truly matters to you, since Texas."
Surprise rippled through, her eyebrows shot up in her damn hairline. Texas?
Holy. Crap.
Texas had been very early on, even before he left her wrecked, and she turned to Jesse. "Wait, all the way since then?"
"Well, I mean, I was...attracted to you since the moment I saw you. Hard not to be," his voice husky in a way making her think very naughty things. "But it was at the bar, which you may not remember because you were so hammered."
"Ha. Ha. I remember." Hammered? She had a couple of drinks, but nothing crazy.
"Well, you got so drunk that I had to carry you out— "
Wait, what? "Nuh, uh. No way, you didn't!"
"Oh yeah, I did. Like full-on carried you out to my damn car. And when I lifted you like a drunk-ass Scarlett O'Hara, between you butchering verses of Highway to Hell, you hiccuped right in my damn face. I laughed harder than I had in a long ass time." Oh good Lord. The warmth of mortification swept over her face. His smile made her stomach dip. "It was cute. And then when you snuggled into me when you finally fell asleep, and I held you?" Wait. Something fuzzy popped in her head then...did they make out? Something about asking him to get on top of her? And she had been mad at him because he didn't? "It made me happy. You make me happy. And look, I will freely admit, by nature, I am a very greedy bastard. I tried to push you away for so long because of my...associations...but I had to keep close to keep you safe. Hindsight it probably wasn't the best move because look how everything turned out."
"Well, I'm alive, so..."
"True. But things I did hurt you. That is something I will never forgive myself for. I know what you're going through, and I wish you didn't have to deal with any of this." His hands slipped off her face to the bed, his shoulders slouched. His black eyes were staring over her head, focusing on something invisible.
"Wes, you know I can take care of myself, and you are not going to be able to protect me from everything."
"I know...but I could have stopped this. I should have stopped it."
"Yeah, sure, you against the entire Lilitu clan? Doubtful."
"They were evil and dangerous and hell-bent on your family. You and your mother were their obsession. They were willing to do anything to get what they wanted. A lot of mortals and immortals died for their cause. I should have tried..."
Her hands splayed over his broad cheeks, his soft mahogany hair brushing over her knuckles. "But you did try. You came to me in Florida and on Prom night to warn me. You risked your life how many times for us? We would have been dead—all of us—if it wasn't for you and J—" Her voice couldn't work out the name.
A weary sigh released from Wes, his body tense and shaky. "Jesse." He laughed harshly. "Do you know, he was the one who pointed out I had real feelings for you?"
Shock rolled through her. "What? No...I didn't…"
"Yeah. Called me out on it when he realized I wasn't letting Jenny run my life anymore; when I was willing to risk it for you. And called me out on my guilt-filled punishment to Jen and for being a coward for leaving you. Because he suspected—no, he knew what I felt for her was nothing like what I feel for you, April."
April's breath caught as she took in the true meaning of those words. He continued.
"Jess saw it before I realized what was going on. That's why he, my friend—no, my best friend, saved me so...I could get back to you...knowing he was going to—" When his voice broke, so did she.
She kissed him, her lips pressing hard, moving against his, coaxing his open. And when Wes's parted, the tip of her tongue stroked his and he shuddered, kissing her back with the same intensity. His hand wrapped around her neck, taking control, drinking her like he was dying of thirst and she was his oasis. Wes's hands moved and reached for her waist, pulling her close until her chest pressed against his. One of his hands slipped down to her bare knee, his coarse fingertips gently tracing a faint bruise before sliding up her thigh just under the hem of the towel.
Wait...towel?
Holy. Shitballs.
Yep. April was still in a goddamn towel. She was straddling her fully-clothed boyfriend...on her childhood bed...completely naked except for said fluffy, damp towel. Under normal circumstances, if she had been in that position, she would have been awkwardly diving for the bathroom—but she didn't. It seemed...right. They needed each other. They needed a distraction, but more than anything, they needed to remember they were both still alive.
Heart pounding, she was out of her body as her fingers unwrapped the towel, tossing it to some part of the room. Wes tore his mouth away, his hands clutching the curve of her waist, careful to avoid her bruised hips. His deep onyx eyes and parted lips held an awed expression. Her heart pounded.
"God, April," Wes groaned, his voice coming out so deep and rough, she was sure the tips of her ears were pink. "You're...you're so..."
"Hot," she finished for him, her voice sounding slightly squeaky, as a laugh rumbled through him. "And please say yes, because it took a lot of ovaries for me to toss off the towel."
"Ovaries," he grinned, raising one eyebrow.
"Stronger than balls," she returned with a shrug.
"Not even going to try to argue that. Well, I gotta say I'm glad you had the ovaries to do so. And yes. You are very hot. Unbelievably so...but that's not what I was gonna say. I was going to say you're so beautiful."
She scrunched up her nose and snorted, crossing an arm over her bare chest. Super sexy.
He raised an eyebrow and smirked, gently pulling her arm away, kissing the back of her hand. "Yes, beautiful. I've been around a long time, seen a lot of pretty girls but none as stunningly beautiful as you, both inside and out. And I should remind you every day." A giggle, an actual fucking giggle, rolled out of her that she hated herself for. "You seriously think I'm joking?" The tone of his question was teasing and dark. He tugged her against him until there was not a centimeter between them. She let out a gasp. No, she could feel he wasn't joking as he strained against his jeans.
His hands grasped her head, pulling her back to his mouth. This wasn't any kiss—it was a revelation. In that kiss, she felt beautiful. It was raw. Passionate. It bombarded her senses, taking over her body—he took over her body. His fingers scrunched in her already tangled mess of hair. His hips rocked against hers, sending pleasure pounding through her body. His tongue sought hers and tasted. Her mouth captured each of his throaty groans as the warm and heady pressure built, replacing any pain. She wanted more of him—all of him—except for one nagging thing.
She broke the kiss and almost laughed at his disappointed moan as his teeth dragged over her bottom lip. "Wait...wait, weren't...weren't you the one who said we moved too fast before, used sex for coping? We were in a stressful, emotional situation? We're kinda in the same position right now, don't ya think?"
"True, I did." One corner of his mouth quirked up as his hand grasped her waist in a way that left her breathless. "Honestly though, looking at you right now, I gotta admit, I want to cope your fucking brains out."
Cope your fucking brains out? Oh, good, Lord. Did he really just say that?
She started to laugh like an idiot until his lips were working hot kisses down her neck to her collarbone, nipping the skin every so often. God. What had he said that was so funny?
"But, we could just go to bed if you'd like. Sleeping and waking up next to you is the next best thing. And I promise I'll make you bacon tomorrow morning either way." His right hand followed the dips and swells. from her hips to her chin and everywhere between. His thumb stroked her cheek as he kept her gaze steady. He leaned back, his dark, hooded eyes locked on hers, questioning. "It's up to you, April. Always."
God, she loved him, and the heart was a dumb bitch. Distractions and coping be damned. "I want you."
His whole face lit up with a sweet, effortless smile that tugged at her heart. His thumb brushed over her lips before being replaced with his mouth. Light passes. Once. Twice. Over and over. They were sweet and innocent. Gentle and reverent. Searing and healing. They were everything.
After a while, their swollen lips parted, and their tongues touched once more. Their hands roamed and explored. Their pulses picked up. Their hips moved, grinding and seeking. The tension built in their bodies as they got a little lost in each other, in the consuming desire.
Wes dragged his mouth away, setting her on the bed, and stood, hurriedly toeing off his boots before he bent over, allowing April to tug off his shirt. Her hand skimmed down the hard planes of his chest to his abs. Hot damn. She smirked at the way he jumped at the contact of her fingers on the button of his jeans. His gaze was intense as she undid the catch and dragged down the zipper. And just like that, his pants were gone and...yeah.
April kept her eyes on him as he shifted towards the head of her bed. Her feet bunched the comforter, tumbling the stuffed animals to the floor until her hair fanned over a pillow. He prowled over the length of her body, their breathing ragged as her pulse thundered. His thigh parted hers, and he settled there. She loved the pleasant weight of his body entirely on hers with nothing between them.
Her head was swimming...no, really swimming. Fuzzy. Foggy? Her heart pounded too fast. Much too fast. Her skin was tight and prickly and...cold?
"April?"
"Hmm," she murmured, her voice sounding weird as if her ears were full of cotton-balls.
"Are you alright," his voice thick with concern. "Hey, look at me."
When had she closed her eyes? April opened them, shaking her head, and regained her bearings. Her head cleared, and her heart rate went back to normal. Woah, that was...weird.
"April, are you okay," Wes repeated, his eyes searching hers.
"Yeah...yes. I'm okay. Better than okay."
He looked down at her, resting on his elbows above her. "Maybe we should..." Wes was lifting himself off of her as he spoke.
"No, I'm fine," April reassured, emphasizing what she still wanted by wrapping her leg around his thigh. She tugged his body to hers, rolling her pelvis for emphasis. The groan that left him said he got the message loud and clear.
When his hips began to move again, and the building desperation deepened their kisses, the world fell away. Nothing existed outside of him. Only his hands. His mouth. His tongue. His body over her. His body in her. Their sounds. How they moved together. And once they fell apart, they started all over again until they collapsed, and he pulled her limp body to his side, kissing her damp forehead.
April never thought she'd be sprawled out naked over her boyfriend after the night they endured. Nope. No freaking way. But she was. Her head comfortably rested on his bare chest, a leg tangled between his. His warm hand rested open and heavy on her right hip. She tilted her head up to find Wes's striking features softened with sleep, which had taken him only a few minutes to fall into after he tugged her to him.
Boys. They had it so easy. They could just turn their minds off at any time. Add an orgasm or two, and they could rest like they were in a freaking coma. She wished she could just push a switch and turn off her brain. Even in the sated bliss of what they just shared, her thoughts boomeranged back-and-forth from bright to wary. Happy because, for the first time in months, there was no longer a suffocating heaviness in her chest. Sure, as with everything in life, it was going to be a process. But there was a power in what they had shared, both verbally and physically, that was healing.
Speaking of power, she needed to figure out what in the blue hell was going on with her telekinesis. Something was wacky and very, very wrong. Why had she become dizzy and almost passed out earlier? Was there a connection? She could sense it deep inside, almost as if she had a frayed internal wire. And there was only one person she could think of that might be able to make sense of what she was feeling. An empath. Not wanting to get up, she lifted her head, peering into the unlit bathroom, focusing on her phone that sat on the counter, forcing all her power into willing it to her. Nothing.
Dammit.
She placed a small kiss onto Wes's chest before she very carefully disentangled herself from him, making her way to the pitch-black bathroom. She found her phone, the light from the screen blinding in the darkness. Scrolling down, she found her last text from Dylan and sent him a quick text.
hey, bro. took care of that wolf prob.
She looked at the time, seeing it was well past three in the morning. Probably not the best time to send the next text, but at least she knew she'd get his attention.
know u r on a case but need u home ASAP. i need ur help.