13. Lynx
LYNX
“ Morgan! ” It’s too raw, too rough, too wild , but it rips out of my chest because my control is fucking shot with Morgan falling apart in front of me.
The air reeks of his fear, his desperation, and I want to claw my own skin off because I can’t help him.
I can’t.
I can’t give in to the instinct burning me from the inside, or I’ll lose all objectivity where he’s concerned.
It’s so fucking hard, though.
It hurts to keep my distance, to stand by and watch as terror sinks its claws in deeper and deeper. I know he’s reliving that night. His panic tastes bitter on my tongue, his body betraying every thought going through his head, and I’m clinging to the last shreds of my control as I watch it unfold.
And then he moans.
It’s low, desperate, and so full of fear.
Powerful enough to slice through everything holding me back.
I’m beside him in the blink of an eye, catching him in my arms as he finally loses his fight with consciousness and slumps to the side.
With a lap full of Morgan, I scoot backwards until I hit the wall. His head falls back against my shoulder, and I cradle his jaw, stroking a thumb along his cheekbone in an attempt to sooth him, to let him know he’s safe with me.
Then finally, finally , I dip my head to the base of his throat and inhale.
It’s the sweetest fucking relief.
The effort of denying this part of myself, of what he is to me is exhausting. It’s only been days, but I’m tired down to my bones. I breathe in and out, soaking up his scent and letting it fill every part of me.
Mine .
It’s a whisper in the back of my mind.
I indulge it for one glorious moment before shoving it back where it belongs, because even if I wanted it, Morgan Webb and I are never going to happen.
Not least of all because I’ve threatened to kill him more than once, and I’m pretty sure he hates me on some level, even when his scent says otherwise.
There are so many reasons it won’t work. I don’t have it in me to name them all.
But none of them matter.
Morgan is human.
My world is too dangerous to ever bring him into it.
But he’s already in it.
I’ve made such a fucking mess of this. But instead of letting him go and setting him on the floor, I hold him against my chest and run a hand through his hair, over and over until his heart rate slows, and his breathing evens out.
I should take him upstairs, let Corey keep an eye on him. It’s the second time something like has happened in as many days. An after effect of Corey’s blood, maybe? I have no fucking idea, but maybe he does.
Morgan stirs in his sleep. I brace for him to push off me, but instead he turns his head, nose resting in the crook of my neck. His deep inhale hits me hard, a dull ache in my chest that hurts with how much I want it.
The soft, contented sigh he lets out almost kills me.
He doesn’t know the truth.
How could he?
Maybe his subconscious feels a whisper of the connection that fate’s dangled between us, but if Morgan was awake, there’s no way he’d be doing this.
As much as I want to keep hold of him just a little longer, I can’t.
The door opens as I stand, Morgan a dead weight in my arms. Instinct takes over, the low, warning growl slipping out far too easily.
Callum freezes in the doorway. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Nothing.”
His eyebrows rise. “Doesn’t look like nothing. Doesn’t smell like it either.”
I hate to think what scents I’m giving off right now.
Part of me doesn’t give a shit but thank fuck the rest of me still clings to some perspective.
It still takes way too long for me to gather my self-control.
“He had a panic attack. I’m taking him to see Corey to make sure it’s not connected to the blood he gave him. ”
Cal nods. “When you’re done with that, come back down. We have news.”
Flint and Mal appear behind him, not bothering to hide their curiosity or shock at seeing Morgan in my arms.
I ignore them all and stalk past towards the stairs.
Corey’s waiting for me when I get there. He frowns when he sees Morgan, still unconscious. “What happened?”
“We were talking, and I think he had a panic attack and passed out.”
“What the fuck did you say to him?” He heads over to the bed Morgan was in before and waits for me to set him down.
I give him a brief rundown of our conversation.
He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’d probably do it.”
“It happened so quickly. One second we were talking. The next he couldn’t catch his breath and then he was out cold. Is that normal?” I don’t know if that’s typical for a panic attack, I’ve never seen someone have one before. “Or could it be your blood still affecting him?”
Corey frowns. “Honestly? I don’t know.” He rubs his jaw, eyes narrowed as he looks at Morgan. “It could be a reaction between the wolf and human blood inside him. I can’t say for sure, because I’ve never given my blood to a human before.”
I bite back a growl.
But he’s too close to hide my feelings from him.
“I was saving his life, Lynx.”
“I know.” I lean against the wall, closing my eyes. “Ignore me.”
“Yeah, right.” His huff of laughter makes me smile, the edginess fading. He gestures to Morgan. “The effects might wear off, but there’s a possibility they might not.” When he glances my way, it’s obvious what he’s thinking.
“You want to tell him.”
“I do. It’s only fair.”
“Is it?”
“I think so.”
I do too. But that doesn’t necessarily mean we should do it.
Corey sighs. “If it’s heightened his emotions, altered how he reacts to things, situations, then shouldn’t we make him aware so he can be prepared?” He gestures to Morgan. “Maybe it’ll stop this from happening again.”
It’s that last sentence that sways me. I can’t watch him go through that again, not without the possibility of doing something reckless and stupid. “Fine.” I add another thing to the list of things Morgan’s going to hate me for. “I’ll talk to him when he wakes up.”
I leave Morgan with Corey, and it’s harder than it should be to walk away. Each step grates on my nerves, the wrongness of it burying behind my ribs until I’m scowling. It’s that expression I’m wearing when I meet the others downstairs.
Callum, Mal, and Flint are already seated, and three sets of eyebrows rise as I glare at them in turn.
“Where is he?” Flint asks, an edge to his voice that raises my hackles.
The window is wide open—pretty sure I have Callum to thank for that. Even so, Morgan’s scent clings to the air. I imagine they can all smell the fear laced with it.
“Upstairs with Corey.” I take the chair at the head of the table and sink into it. “He thinks it could be a side effect of Morgan having his blood.”
Silence.
I’m not sure what reaction I was expecting, to be honest. It doesn’t alter anything. I can tell Flint wants to say more, but he bites his lip. Whatever scents I’m giving off, he wisely decides now isn’t the time.
The need to get back upstairs sits under my skin, making me restless. “What news do you have for me?”
Callum leans forward, arms resting on the table. “We’re transferring Tyler tomorrow afternoon. Jet and Mal will escort him to meet with his pack just below Exeter.”
“Good.” The sooner we can get Tyler somewhere safe and away from here, the better. “What about your contact?”
Callum winces. “Security’s been ramped up since the weekend. No details about the next fight ring have been finalised yet.”
I’m not surprised. We’ve hit the last three in consecutive months. They’re bound to be twitchy. “Maybe we need to give the next one a miss. Let things die down. As much as it kills me to say it, I don’t think we’ve got much choice. We can’t jeopardise the safety of our informant.”
Mal curses under his breath, and Flint snarls, but they don’t disagree.
Callum sighs. “Yeah, maybe.”
I go to get up, but Cal stops me.
“That’s not all we wanted to discuss.”
I relax back into my seat and gesture for him to continue, but it’s Mal who speaks.
“Hunters are in town.”
I knew they were in the area, but not here, specifically. “You’re sure?” Not that I doubt him, but—fuck, that’s exactly what I’m doing. “Sorry.” I run a hand through my hair, searching for the focus I need for this. “Today has been... distracting.”
Mal snorts but doesn’t look offended, so I’ll take it.
“What are they up to? And how many?”
Mal grimaces. “We only saw two, but I doubt that’s all of them. Flint and I popped into town to pick up a few things and we saw them coming out of the Tesco Express.” His lip curls. “They stank of silver and aconite.”
“Did they see you?” I ask. In theory, we have nothing to fear from hunters, not if we’re sticking to the rules they laid out for shifter packs. And as far as they’re concerned, we are. Doesn’t mean we’re all that eager to invite interaction though.
Well, most of us.
“They did when we walked up and introduced ourselves.” Mal grins, but his eyes flash a darker grey. “Can’t have them thinking we were trying to hide.”
“Anyone we know?” There are almost as many hunter groups as there are shifter packs. Some stick to the same areas, but not all.
Mal glances at Flint. “We didn’t recognise them , but Flint said they carried a scent that seems familiar.
“Beck? Grey?” I turn to Flint, and he seesaws his hand.
“Maybe Grey. It was faint and mixed with plenty of others, but I know it from somewhere.”
“Fuck.” I sit back in my chair, hands automatically going to my hair again.
Tanner Grey.
As hunters go, he’s one of the better ones, but he has a thing for Jet. He tries to hide it, with varying degrees of success. I don’t think any of his fellow hunters suspect, but he can’t hide it from us. Our senses never lie.
And Jet fucking hates him.
“Have you told him?” All we need this week is a pissed-off Jet. Especially when I need him focused on transporting Tyler.
Flint shakes his head. “We were hoping we won’t need to. There’s no reason for them to pay us a visit. And if they do, hopefully he’ll still be away with Mal.”
I turn to Mal. “When are you leaving?”