"Good, again. This time, keep your eyes open and don't hold your breath."
Though angry at me, Jazz took instruction well. He sent a second knife through the air. It hit the wall on the other side, but at least that time, he'd kept his eyes open.
"Good. Again."
That instruction earned me a rude look from over Jazz's shoulder that went directly to my dick. If he was hoping his attitude would upset me, he'd be disappointed. It affected me, but not with anger. I longed to coax out his submission, to show him that I could not only protect him, but that I was a source of comfort. I wanted him to turn toward me, not away.
I shoved back my arousal for the moment and watched Jazz throw the remaining knives. Each throw was a little better. His hand shook a little less, and his eyes weren't quite so wide and fearful every time he grabbed a handle. When he'd emptied the pouch, we gathered the knives from the ground, and he went again.
After cycling through the knives twice more, his face was red, and his arm shook, but for different reasons than before. He didn't flinch when he reached for the handles. And he didn't fling the knife from him like he was desperate to get space between them.
He had the last in his hand and hurtled it forward, hitting the edge of the target with a vibrating twang. He looked back at me, his shoulders heaving as his breaths came more quickly.
I stood several feet back and to the left, with my hands clasped behind my back. "Again."
His jaw tightened, along with the fingers on his right hand. With the look on his face, I was lucky he'd thrown the last of the blades.
I kept my tone even but firm. "Do you have a problem with that?"
Jazz's shoulders hunched forward, and he turned away, but he couldn't hold it back as easily as he had. His ears were red, and I imagined I could see steam coming from the top of his head just before he spun around, flinging a finger at my chest. "Yeah, I do!"
Finally.
"You aren't teaching me anything! You're just toying with me!" His anger exploded from him similar to the way he'd been flinging those knives. He pushed off me and headed for the door. "I don't have to stay here for this."
I advanced forward, quickly passing him to stand between him and the door. I watched his face and body language, searching for signs that this was going too far, that he was too riled up—or worse, scared—to be reasonable.
He was angry still, but it was a righteous sort that made his eyes shine. Jazz narrowed his flashing eyes. "I thought you said I was free to go," he snarled.
My hands clenched into fists. Whatever Jazz saw in my face was enough to dampen the edge off his anger.
"You said you didn't want to go." Keeping my voice even was the most difficult thing I'd had to do this morning. I had to let him leave. If he wanted to leave, I had to let him.
He stomped forward, chest to chest. "I don't want to!"
His move brought our faces close together. His vanilla breath whispered over my cheek, electrifying my nerve endings. I wanted inside of him. I wanted to stamp him with my cock, brand him with my cum, and mark him as mine. My omega. The only thing stopping me was the pain in his gaze. His anger had come and gone, as had his worry, but the pain remained.
He acted as if I had personally hurt him. "What did I do, Jazz? Tell me and I'll fix it."
He stood stock-still. I'd neared as close to begging as I ever had, but I didn't care. Not as long as Jazz continued to stand there, swallowing hard, his head lowering between his shoulders. "I won't be your distraction," he bit out, refusing to look at me.
My… distraction?
The pieces fell into place, slowly, but they eventually settled into a picture. "I already told you that you were mine." That had been all I thought I needed to say on the matter. I wanted him here, but I wouldn't make him stay. And I wouldn't trick or manipulate him into staying either. That seemed pretty clear.
"For how long?" Jazz shot back, looking at me long enough for me to see the hurt. "I know you don't want the same thing to happen to me that happened to the others. To Hollister and his friends. I don't think it has. I'm not special or blessed like they were. My parents didn't die tragically. My mom left me, and my dad despised me. For no reason. I was a little kid, and he couldn't look at me. Wouldn't let me out of the house."
Jazz sucked in a deep breath, and it took all I was to not fold him into my arms. But he needed space to talk, and I wouldn't risk silencing him after he'd finally started speaking.
"I don't stay where I'm not wanted. Not anymore. But I also won't stay with a ticking clock over my head. You want me now, but what about when you get bored? Or when the guys get more annoyed with me, or when you run out of money and realize what a mistake you made in not turning me in?"
My poor Jazz. I'd been so blind wondering what it was I did wrong, and while I had failed at comforting him the night before, much of what was troubling Jazz had nothing to do with me. He thought history would repeat itself. Abandoned and despised. He couldn't see Faust, Huntley, and Jagger already considered him more than a stranger or hostage.
"I'm sorry, Jazz. I didn't know that part was yet unclear for you. I want you with me. So much that it is difficult not to attempt to persuade you every moment of the day to stay. But it needs to be your choice, and what do I have to offer you? A broken-down hotel and a pack of broken men. I want you to stay, but why would you?"
"You always say exactly what you want. You don't hide things. Why start now, with this?"
By not assuring Jazz when he'd needed it last night, I'd inadvertently sent him a message that I'd never intended. "Because I can't make that choice for you."
"I already made it," Jazz replied, somewhat exasperated. "I'm here, Knox. I want to be around you. I want to be around the others—in a different way." He blushed.
I'd known Jazz didn't want the others like he did me—his body gave him away—but my alpha appreciated that he'd clarified.
"I want to help you guys solve this case, and when we find the culprit, I want to help in taking him down. Then after, I want to help with what comes next. I'm in. All in."
I kissed him, a soft, sweet kiss that slowly melted away both our fears. We'd already claimed each other, but we'd both spent the time since expecting the other to want to leave. Jazz wrapped his arms around me, and my heart soared. We weren't broken in the same way, but neither of us had escaped life without so much damage that even when we were both eager and willing, we couldn't see it.
"Stay with me," I whispered against his mouth. "Always. From now on until forever."
"Knox?" Jazz pulled back. Tears filled the corners of his eyes. "You can't…we've only known each other…"
"I don't care. You're special, Jazz, and I want you in my life. In my home. In my pack. You are welcome. In the hotel. In my room. In my pants."
"Knox!" Jazz hit me with an open palm. It hardly made a sound. He dropped his face, balancing his forehead against my chest with a heavy sigh. "I want you in my pants too."
I'd been doing an excellent job of restraining my baser urges, until that moment. I gripped Jazz's thighs, spreading his legs and holding him against me. His limbs twined around my waist, hooking at the ankles as I explored his mouth and massaged the handfuls of flesh in my grip. But even as my alpha roared his approval, I had to slow down. Restrain myself. "I need a condom, baby. We can't keep risking this." I didn't know the rules. I didn't know if having a special ability automatically meant he would get pregnant, but I knew what had happened to the Walkers. At the very least, I couldn't pretend to be ignorant to the possibility.