17. Lynx #3
“It’s okay,” I whisper, directing my glare at Jet because he’s raging at the wrong people.
He doesn’t apologise, but he does school his features into something a little less murderous.
Silence fills the room, the implications of everything we’ve learnt today settling heavily on everyone.
“What’s the plan?” Morgan asks, surprising me enough that I speak without engaging my brain first.
“Well, the first thing we need to do is get you as far away from here as fucking possible.” I catch Flint’s wince and subtle head shake before Morgan unleashes.
“Says who?” He turns in his seat to face me, and I can’t say I’m a fan of the sneer directed at me. “You?” He scoffs, and I’m not a fan of that either. “I don’t fucking think so.”
“Morgan—”
“Don’t fucking Morgan me.” He gets right in my face, and I let him, because I understand the frustration he’s feeling right now.
I don’t have any right to tell him what to do, but if it means keeping him alive, then I’m going to fucking do it.
“Just because we’re apparently soulmates ”—he practically spits the words—“doesn’t mean you get to dictate my fucking life.
” I catch the surprised faces out of the corner of my eye.
Not that they didn’t know about us. They didn’t know I’d shared that information with Morgan.
I ignore them all in favour of grabbing Morgan’s shoulders hard enough to shut him up. “I can’t keep you safe if you stay here.”
He bristles. “I’m not fucking asking you to!”
The words sting.
Whether I was expecting them or not makes no difference to my fucking heart. He doesn’t feel the bond the way shifters do. Doesn’t understand all the ways it affects us. Don’t let it get to you.
I do though, and he must see it, because he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Don’t look at me like that.”
I shouldn’t ask but can’t help myself. “Like what?”
“Like I’ve killed your fucking dog.”
I almost laugh at how accurate that statement is.
I don’t.
Mal does though, and I snap my gaze away from Morgan to snarl at him.
“Would you like us to step out for a while?” Callum asks, sending his own glare Mal’s way.
“Yes,” Morgan snaps at the same time as I manage a weary, “No.”
Facing Morgan again, I reach for one of his hands, relieved when he lets me take it. Though his stony expression remains. “You were planning on leaving for a while anyway. I don’t understand the problem?”
“That was before I met the men who tortured my fucking father, who drugged him into signing away our house, my home .”
“How does that change anything?” I stand, unable to sit still any longer.
Morgan’s hand slips from mine, and it feels like a fucking sign.
I go to grab it back, but he crosses his arms instead.
“They’re dangerous people, Morgan.” I jab a finger at him.
“You know this. You’ve seen the evidence.
If anything, that should make you want to leave here even more . ”
He cocks his head to the side, assessing. I can almost see the wheels in his mind working overtime. “I thought mates had to be near each other. You can’t bear to be separated. Isn’t that how it works?”
That fucking book.
“Yes. But we haven’t completed the bond.”
“But there’s still a pull, right? A need to protect, to keep me close.”
I could kill Flint for giving it to him.
“Yes,” I grit out, glaring daggers at Flint, perversely satisfied when he shrinks into his seat.
“Or is it because I’m human?” he asks suddenly, and there’s no missing the hurt in his voice. “Don’t you give a shit when your other half isn’t a shifter?”
I snap.
The tenuous hold I have on my control withers under the onslaught of emotions rolling off him.
“Of course I fucking care. Keeping you safe is all I can think about, and that’s the problem,” I spit.
“You’re not mine, you don’t fucking want to be, but it doesn’t matter because as far as I’m concerned, you are, you always will be, and the need to protect you is overriding everything else and I can’t fucking think .
” It’s me who’s pacing now, hands shoved in my hair as everything comes tumbling out.
“And I can’t afford to do that,” I add, softly.
“I have the club and the pack to think about. And the fucking fight rings that keep popping up all over the place no matter how many times we raid them. And now hunters.”
I take a deep, steadying breath, and drop to my knees in front of him.
The shock on his face would be funny at any other time.
“I can’t concentrate on any of it, while you’re in danger.
And if you stay, Morgan, you will be.” The words stick in my throat, but I force them out.
“I can’t keep you safe. Not here. The hunters can come and go as often as they want, and we can’t stop them without serious fucking consequences that won’t end well for anyone. ”
An awful silence follows, the room full of too many conflicting emotions for me to parse who’s feeling what. It’s too much, suffocating, but I don’t move from my knees as I watch Morgan sort through everything I’ve just said.
“I do feel it,” he says eventually. It’s so quiet, I wonder if he even meant for me to hear.
“Feel what?” I hold my breath, desperate for the answer but also dreading it might not be the one I so desperately want.
He reaches for my hands this time, and I freeze, afraid to move a fucking muscle.
“The bond, the connection, or whatever you want to call it. I feel a pull between us that’s getting stronger and stronger.
” He moves our joined hands to his heart.
“ Here ,” he whispers. “I feel it in here, and I don’t know how or when that happened, but it did.
” He meets my gaze, and there’s nothing but the truth in blue eyes I could easily lose myself in.
“Honestly? I don’t know if I’ll ever want to take it further.
” He shakes his head, a bemused and bitter laugh escaping.
“Or what that even means for me.” Then he lifts his chin, that familiar stubbornness rising to the surface, and says the words that almost break me.
“But I want to stay here, with you. Don’t send me away, Lynx. Please .”