Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 73

I bite my tongue, holding back more questions. His face is too raw. Too exposed. And for the first time, I realize–Jack bleeds too. 

So I change the subject. “Hey, um… do you have a pack library or something?” I ask, trying to sound casual. 

He blinks. “Yeah. Why?” 

“Just bored,” I shrug. “Need something to read while you’re off being Alpha–y.” 

“You want books?” 

I nod, hiding my real motive. 

“My private library has everything you need. It’s in the main pack building.” 

He reaches to the nightstand and tosses me a heavy gold key. “It’s better than the public one. More… complete. Don’t lose it. That place is sacred.” 

I clutch the key with a grateful smile, but my mind is elsewhere. 

The necklace. 

The plan in thought who suddenly Jack pull in ace rappling an am Bond thy want. His warm caps into my last tense, started but then elovaly t 

te how hata me and to my debtising fee to peace. 

Just for loop tates in, as his re–toh and brokers. 

Morning light pouts in through the curtains, warm and golden–but his side of the bed is cold. 

A figure moves along the dirt path ahead–slim, graceful. Familiar. 

Jasmine? 

She’s walking alone, far off, her steps uneven like her mind isn’t really in her body. I quicken my pace, calling out, “Jasmine!” 

No response. She doesn’t turn around. 

“Jasmine!” I shout again, louder this time–but it’s like she can’t hear me. Like she’s somewhere far away, locked inside herself. She keeps walking, slow and disconnected. 

A strange heaviness forms in my stomach, and I.