Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Jag sighed, pushing the pancakes closer to Dane and sitting back on a furry pillow he’d made himself. “I decided to wear it in case things don’t work out. But… it’s the work of my hands.” He pointed to his face. “It’s covered in the skin of a jaguar I slayed. He left me with scars, but I was stronger in the end, and that’s all that matters in nature.” He turned sideways to show the long lines running down the back of his shoulder. The wounds had been agonising at the time, but he now proudly wore them as marks of his triumph.
Dane was very still, but when Jag glanced his way, the handsome face lifted into a smile. “That’s um—impressive. What do you mean by ‘if things don’t work out’?” he asked, without even looking at the pancakes, or any of the other foods laid out on the table. Perhaps Jag should have taken some of Frank’s coffee?
Jag sighed. There were things he didn’t want to explain just yet. He did consider the odd possibility that their relationship might not work out if Dane was only capable of mating with women, but Jag didn’t want to think about it too much, because the soft body he couldn’t wait to explore with his fingers and lips was calling to him already. Dane’s presence had awoken a primal pull that made him want to show off his prowess, bring home food, and clothe Dane to make sure he was protected, not just from predators, but from the elements as well.
“As with all things…” Jag said carefully. “Two people need to get to know each other to find out how in tune they are. But all you really need is an open heart. You’re so warm, and soft, and big, and—ah!” Jag gestured as if he were chasing off a fly, unable to express with words what he wished to communicate with his body.
His den was mostly empty, with some scavenged vehicle parts gathered at one end in boxes, and lots of comfortable furs piled in the sleeping area. But the adornments of glass and metal Jag had decorated the ceiling with cast bright reflections all over, turning the space into a magical cavern fit for a beauty like Dane. The specks of light crawled over skin colored by tattoos and bruises and over the rolls forming where Dane’s midsection was bent to one side, tempting Jag closer and making arousal simmer under his skin.
Dane flinched again, this time falling flat on his back, which left one of his legs uncovered and the blanket pooling in his crotch. Lust flashed through Jag like a fiery arrow, but Dane sat back up and covered himself. “So… I mean, if you want to date, I’m open to that. But my family relies on me for money. I need to let them know I’m fine,” he said, leaning forward like a dog showing his submission.
Jag groaned. Dane wasn’t listening. He clung to his past life and the society they were both leaving behind, but he would understand his place eventually.
“I’m your family now. That’s all you need to understand,” Jag grumbled and got up, pacing in front of the table. He pointed to the uneaten food. “Do you want to wash before you have breakfast? I have a shower I built myself,” he boasted, eager to show off all the things he could provide.
Dane cleared his throat, frowning, as if he were fighting an inner battle. “Look, there’s five kids who will go hungry if I don’t come back. That doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”
Jag stilled, staring at Dane with his heart in his throat. “You have children?”
Dane swallowed, pale under the brown-and-purple bruises an anonymous villain had left on his handsome, broad face. “Yes.”
Jag shook his head in disbelief. Five. Five children? This was insanity. He loved kids, but when he took Dane to his home, he hadn’t taken such things into account. Five little pups roaming around wouldn’t leave much space for intimacy. And he’d have to build a fence to keep them safe.
He walked out, not wanting Dane to see how torn Jag was about his brood, but a scream spilled out of him the moment sun hit his shoulders, and he kicked a stray can, nervously playing with the heavy necklace made of keys he’d collected over the years. Why could nothing ever go his way? Bringing up five children here would be an enormous challenge. Jag would need to reveal their presence to Frank, and how would he feed them all? He’d either have to hunt and cook more or scavenge for more trinkets to barter with Frank. Both options were unreliable.
Jag paced in front of his den with sweat beading on his skin under the metal mask, but he’d made his choice. Life had a way of throwing challenges at any man, and he’d face this one head on.