11. Lynx #3
If I take this back downstairs, there’s a chance the others might change their minds. Morgan now knows more about this pack, this club , than anyone outside of it.
He’s a liability.
And I need to deal with it.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say, keeping my voice low. “We’re going to go back in there. I’m going to take Morgan for a little walk, and you’re going to explain things to Nico. I’d make it quick if I was you because I suspect Jet’ll be coming back up here soon.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Flint mutters. “He’ll get all arsy if I upset Nico.”
I grin at him, all teeth. “Best be gentle then.”
“Thanks for that.” He rolls his eyes, then turns and opens the door.
I almost crash into the back of him when he stops in the doorway. Peering over his shoulder, I’m met with Morgan’s flat expression.
“I saw you come in before. I’m assuming you want to talk to me?” On the surface he looks bored, as though he doesn’t give a shit what I’ve got to say.
But I know different.
To a shifter, he’s practically telegraphing his feelings.
I wonder if he knows I can smell the fear on him. Can hear his breathing pick up as he watches us.
“Flint.” I glance pointedly over at Nico.
“On it.”
Morgan is sat on top of the covers, propped up against the pillows.
I let my gaze travel over him, not bothering to be subtle about it.
He’s got his legs crossed, relaxed in a way that suggests he’s not in pain.
No lingering effects from collapsing in the stairwell.
I know Corey took his stitches out earlier—I wonder if Morgan’s realised yet. “Feeling better?”
He hesitates, like it’s somehow a trick question. “Yes.” Then like it hurts to do so, he grudgingly adds, “Thank you, for... getting me out of the stairwell.”
I could let it go at that. But a part of me wants to poke him, to get a reaction. “How did you know it was me?” I’m pretty sure he wasn’t fully conscious when I picked him up and carried him in here.
His eyes narrow, but there’s a blush staining his cheeks that stirs the animal in me.
I want to know his answer. I shouldn’t, it won’t do either of us any good, but I selfishly want to hear it anyway.
Does he remember being in my arms? Or the reckless way I kissed his forehead. Only the barest brush of lips against skin, but the taste of him lingered for hours. His scent clings to me under my clothes because I haven’t had time to wash it off yet.
I like it way too much.
I raise an eyebrow when he still doesn’t say anything. “Well?”
Instead of giving me what I want, he shrugs. “I just assumed it was you. Maybe I was wrong.”
He’s lying. Every part of me knows it, but I can’t call him on it, not without giving away how much I want him to tell me.
Another beat of silence.
I can hear Flint talking quietly to Nico, explaining about Morgan, but I tune them out.
“Are you going to kill me?” Morgan asks, and I smile at his bluntness.
He might be scared shitless, but that doesn’t stop him asking the hardest question. And it deserves an honest answer. “No. But we can’t exactly let you walk out of here either.”
The sigh he lets out drains the tension from him and he sinks into the pillows behind him. Guilt hits me low and hard, but I don’t have time for it. Yet another thing I shove to the back of my mind. It’s getting awfully fucking crowded back there.
He plays with the edge of the sheet, sliding those long fingers back and forth, and I suddenly find myself following their path. “What happens now?” he asks softly.
I don’t fucking know.
Now I’m up here with him, my plan seems like the worst idea I’ve ever had. Including saving him in the first place. But I’ve set it in motion now. And even if I wanted to pass him off to someone else, the thought of anyone spending the next few days with him sets my wolf on edge.
I’m like a runaway train with the end of the track in sight. I know I need to stop or it’ll end in disaster, but I can’t get the brakes to work.
Morgan draws his bottom lip between his teeth. His scent changes the longer I take to answer, and it’s the hint of fear that finally snaps me out of my head. It’s exactly what I should be aiming for, what I need him to feel if we’re going to keep our secret.
But it’s not what I want.
“You have the next few days to persuade me that you can keep our secret. That you don’t pose a threat to me or my pack.”
He scoffs. “And then you’ll let me go?”
“If you do what you said you would and leave town for a while.”
“As easy as that?”
I shrug.
He fiddles with the edges of the sheet again, and I wait, wondering if he’ll ask the obvious question or if he’s too scared of the answer.
“And if I can’t?” His jaw has that stubborn set to it that’s fast becoming one of my favourite things. He’s still so feisty, even though I know he’s scared.
I almost don’t want to answer. But he deserves the truth. “Then we’ll have to use plan B.”
He doesn’t ask what that is, and I don’t offer an explanation. I don’t need to. But I pray to the Goddess it doesn’t come to that because I know I won’t be able to see it through. “Are you okay to come for a walk?” I say instead.
“Where?” The hint of fear gets suddenly stronger, but to his credit, he tries hard not to show it.
“Outside.” I shrug. “The forest helps me think clearer, no distractions.”
“Or witnesses.” he says under his breath.
I grin, flashing my teeth. “That too.”
His eyes go wide as he realises I can hear him. “Wanker.” He doesn’t bother to keep his voice down this time, and there’s a suspicious cough from across the room, which I ignore.
Morgan’s surprisingly mouthy for someone whose life’s just been threatened. Fear still taints the air between us, but it’s now buried within a confusing mix of emotions that I’m not stupid enough to try and untangle.
Or admit that I like.
“Shall we?” I have no explanation for why I instinctively hold out my hand to him, even less as to why he takes it. But I know exactly why warmth flares along my arm and throughout my whole body.
Morgan let’s go of me with a sharp inhale and busies himself smoothing out his borrowed clothes.
Did he feel that?
I’ve no idea how it works for a human. I’ve never wanted, or needed, to find out.
And you shouldn’t now.
I do though.
Curiosity burns in my chest, but it can fuck off. I shove my hands in my pockets. “Ready?”
“Lead the way.”