Chapter Twenty-one
GARTH
Tyler watches Frankie obsessively. Despite being bruised and battered, he barely even blinks at the abuse, and I curse myself for overlooking his suffering so much that he thinks this is normal.
I hate seeing him so vulnerable. It was my job to protect him, and I’ve failed…
again. I’ve been so lost to my own misery that I’ve been neglecting my pack.
It’s unforgivable.
That changes now.
Searching for a spot on his body that isn’t damaged, I wince when I come up empty.
I resolutely press my hand to the bare skin of his arm and use my abilities as an alpha to help heal him.
Unfortunately, the chains make it virtually impossible, my powers slipping through my fingers like a wet bar of soap.
Barely a trickle of it passes through our connection and bleeds into Tyler. Since my beast is more than a little feral, the magic is wild and chaotic, and he winces at the burn of it.
A muscle jumps in my jaw in frustration, and I hate that I’m hurting him, but I don’t stop.
I can’t.
I refused to leave him vulnerable.
Even the smallest wounds barely scab over, and frustration sears my insides at my inability to keep my pack safe. Though it goes against my very nature, I glance at the girl who leaves pure mayhem in her wake.
For the last few decades, only order and routine have kept me sane.
It’s boring and predictable, but it has prevented me from turning completely feral.
Frankie ripped away that illusion of safety, leaving my beast floundering.
Apparently, he finds her unpredictability fascinating, and he is almost as obsessed with her as Tyler.
The logical part of my brain is concerned about having my routine destroyed, but that worry is buried under the rest of me that is fucking excited to find out what happens next.
For the first time in decades, the air tastes fresh, the world is brighter, and I feel like I’m living again. It’s fucking dangerous…and addicting.
Tyler winces as I send more power into him, and I hiss out a growl when it proves futile. I’m just hurting him more. I glance at Frankie, then swallow my pride. “Can you heal Tyler again?”
She turns away from the dragon, and I don’t miss the slight blush to her cheeks. Despite the chains, I can still feel my wolf, though he is muted. My beast narrows his eyes on the lizard, huffing in annoyance. He’s not necessarily jealous; he’s just irritated that her attention isn’t on him.
He preens when she looks at us, his chest puffing up, his tail wagging slightly as he prances forward. I brace myself for him to yank control away, but he seems pleased just to have her near. Though my brain marvels at the change, I’m unable to understand what the fuck is happening.
When she kneels on the other side of Tyler, I immediately lean close and inhale her sunshine and citrus scent. The delicious taste has my mouth watering, the smell of her somehow keeping my head clear.
My skin tingles when her magic rises, and I blink when I realize the chains binding her are tarnished and dull, doing nothing to block her abilities.
The air around the two of them crackles like static, brushing against me in a way that has my dick hardening so fast that I grunt.
If I wasn’t already on the ground, I would’ve dropped to my knees when my blood rushed south.
I try to jerk away from the pair, but my beast practically purrs at the unintended reaction. He wants the girl and refuses to allow me to retreat. Her magic is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, like bathing in sunlight and peace.
The tangled curtain of her hair brushes against the back of my hand while she is bent over Tyler, and I can’t resist the opportunity to thread my fingers through the silky strands and gently untangle them one at a time.
It’s oddly calming.
Even my beast settles down, hypnotized by the simple action.
After a few minutes, she sits back on her heels with a frown, her nose crinkling adorably.
“Last time, I was able to pull the energy from his fox and force him to heal. Right now, his beast is too depleted. I fixed the worst of his internal injuries, but I can’t do more without knocking him out completely.
I don’t feel comfortable leaving him so vulnerable right now.
He’ll heal almost as slowly as a human with the cuffs blocking him,” she says apologetically, regret wilting her shoulders, and she gently runs a single finger down Tyler’s battered face.
“Don’t blame yourself for this situation.” Anger roars through me that she’s taking the responsibility for his beating. “You have no reason to feel guilty. It was my decision to send Tyler into a dangerous situation without backup.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I wince when I realize that I’m snarling at her. I clear my throat, my voice turning gruff with admiration. “You handled yourself well. You kept us safe. That’s all we can do most days.”
A light blush fills her cheeks at my praise, and I shift uncomfortably under her golden gaze, angling my leg to hide my erection, liking her attention a little too much.
Chains clank, reminding me of my situation, and I glance down at the metal.
While I don’t like having my strength and abilities repressed, detesting that I’m so weak, the way they mute my wolf is almost refreshing.
It’s weird not to have to battle my beast every second of the day.
It’s like being injected with a sedative, my muscles slowly unwinding after decades of being on edge.
It should be relaxing, yet every hair on my body rises at the unnatural sensation, the chains making me feel more out of control than ever.
Although, since Frankie burst into our lives, my beast has been more alert than he has in decades.
I don’t make the mistake of thinking he is sane, but the constant noise in my head is quiet.
I don’t fucking trust it.
He watches her almost compulsively, afraid that if he looks away for even a second, she might disappear. She will leave, it’s inevitable, and I’m worried about what will happen when she does.
Though Frankie is more than capable of holding her own, I’m terrified of my reaction to her. If my beast snaps, I fear she will be dead before I can stop him. I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my life, but I don’t think I could live with knowing that I snuffed out her life.
She is precious, special in a way that I can’t describe.
Though my beast feels protective of her now, I can’t gamble on the chance that he might get distracted and hurt her by accident. He snarls at the thought that we would ever harm her, the furry ass completely forgetting we were stalking her in the kitchen less than twenty-four hours ago.
The beast rolls his eyes and sulks.
Playing.
The word is so quiet that I almost don’t hear it. Images of him and a tiny wolf jumping around fill my head.
Tiny wolf ours.
Not hurt.
I’m poleaxed when his voice echoes in my head, and I collapse against the rough stone wall at my back, barely noticing the cold seep into my flesh.
Five hundred years have passed since I last heard him talk.
Though his thoughts are simple, they’re sure and strong…
and affronted at the idea of us hurting the girl.
Worse, I almost believe him.
The beast sniffs the metal, a silent snarl curling his snout, and he tries to claw and snap at it.
Need to protect what is ours.
The beast isn’t wrong. We’re barely better than human at this point. We can’t keep her safe this way. We need to remain focused on our task.
Keep little wolf safe.
It’s like his words are law. The fogginess in my head clears at the demand. It’s amazing not to have to monitor myself every second of the day, but the peaceful sensation feels almost alien.
I’m distracted from my introspection when Frankie speaks.
“The first stage of our escape is removing these fucking chains.” She hooks her fingers into her left manacle and pulls. Her delicate muscles flex, tugging on the quarter-inch metal band. Dante and I reach forward at the same time to help her, but it’s not needed.
A second later, the metal joints crack and the cuff parts.
Logically, I know she’s a shifter, but seeing her peel open the manacle is sexy as fuck.
Dante must feel the same because his eyebrows rise, and he watches her, unblinking, as she efficiently snaps the second cuff away as well. Everyone is silent as the chains slink to the ground with a clang. Frankie glances up, then pauses when she finds herself at the center of attention.
She’s flustered for a few seconds, obviously not used to being noticed, which I find crazy as fuck. She’s absolutely stunning. Any man would be lucky to claim her.
My beast flashes his fangs at the thought of anyone else touching her.
No one else was worthy.
It’s almost like she was waiting for us, and I shake my head to banish that dangerous idea.
To avoid the attention, Frankie ducks her head and motions for my cuffs, probably guessing that my beast will be the most troublesome. “Hold your hands out.”
But I don’t move, worry gnawing at my insides as I study her. She’s been awake for who knows how long, probably on the run for months or longer. She’s pushing herself too far. “You’re beyond exhausted, practically running on fumes. You can’t keep pushing yourself.”
Her golden eyes narrow, and her stubborn little chin lifts in the air. “I’m fine.”
But she’s not. Sooner or later, she will break, and my hands curl into fists against the need to shake sense into her. My beast presses against the underside of my skin, urging me to take care of her, and I hate that I have nothing to offer her.
The only thing I can do is be there for her when she falters.