Chapter 26 #4
“I’m fine. Really,” I tell him. It’s half true.
Hitting the ground did rattle every bone in my already fragile body.
A dull ache now throbs with every heartbeat.
I already know it’s the kind of pain that will fully bloom hours later when the bruises really set in.
But none of that is important. Not right now.
He’s not hearing my reassurance. Eyes flicking between gray and that ghostly shade, his wolf tests the resolve of Rennick’s control, the aftermath of the fight still burning through his system.
That volatile edge riding him licks along my own nerves.
My omega instincts stir, insistent with a single directive.
Soothe him. Anchor him. Ours.
I wrap my fingers around his wrist where he still holds my jaw, the steady drum of his pulse against my fingertips grounding me. I breathe his name, trying again to pull him from his own internal battle, “Ren—”
“I need you to get home, sweet one, where I’ll know you’re safe,” he cuts me off. His words are gentle, but stern enough that he leaves no room for me to argue. “I can’t think with you standing out here in the open while they’re still on our land.”
Our land. I swallow hard.
“I have to be the one to take him to the gates,” he continues, head turning briefly to the SUV where Talis is helping her father get in.
“I thought I could hand it off to Canaan or Rook, but it needs to be me. I need to see with my own eyes that he’s gone.
That he’s away from us.” His intense gaze returns to me. “Far away from you.”
The automatic question—who the hell is Rook?—dances at the tip of my tongue, but I swallow down the curiosity, planning to save it for later. I begin to nod, ready to tell him I understand why he needs to do this, when the worry on his face sharpens.
“Fuck, baby, I shouldn’t be leaving your side right now.”
“You’re not leaving me,” I cut in, my first gut response to reject his concern, but no sooner do the words leave my mouth that a familiar sense of dread and worry seep back into my bones.
Even after everything he’s done to prove himself today, the bond between us still feels like glass—cracks starting to mend but delicate, one wrong move from a new fissure.
The idea of him walking away, even temporarily and for the right reasons, scrapes the sensitive places left within me.
Frantic energy swells behind my sternum, a kind of panic that reason can’t seem to touch.
Fuck. I’ve dedicated years to caring for omegas, but knowing how to be one myself? Evidently not in my skill set. All these new feelings are hitting at once, and I have no idea what to do with them.
His other hand lifts, framing my face with his palms. The world reduces to the press of his skin against mine and the warm weight of his full attention.
“I won’t be long. Promise.” His voice softens but does not lose that commanding edge.
“Listen to me. Go home, and wait for me in my room.” He pauses, eyes searching mine like he’s still scouring for cracks in my facade.
“Take anything you want from my closet. Being wrapped in my scent will help until I can get back to you.”
Color abandons face before I can stop myself from reacting.
He knows.
I don’t know how much he knows, but enough. Enough to recognize what his scent does to my fraying edges. Enough to know that when we’re apart, my body weakens in ways I can’t hide. His comment about not leaving isn’t just reassurance. It’s an acknowledgment of my secrets.
My wolf hums, pleased that our mate’s finally caught on to what she’s been howling for. I’m the one who’s battling the old reflex to hide, to pretend I’m fine and not actively unraveling without him.
I meet his eyes and search for judgment, some flicker of resentment for keeping this from him. I don’t find any. There’s only understanding, and that warm, steady patience he keeps offering me. The one I’m slowly learning to trust. The relief hits so fast it leaves me a little lightheaded.
“How do you—” I start.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead that lingers long enough to help ease the spike of rising panic. “The second he’s gone, I’m running back to you, mate,” he murmurs against my skin. “I promise.”
He steps away before I can answer. One step. Two. His body reshapes mid-stride, dark fur sprouting over smooth muscle. His wolf leaps forward in a clean, powerful arc and gravel sprays as his big paws dig into the earth. He charges after the silver SUV pulling away with the McNamaras inside.
I stand there a moment longer, heart pounding, palms sweaty, replaying his words. “Wait for me in my room... My scent will help.” The question hangs here, heavy and glaring. Who told him? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me.
I search the crowd until I spot a bright flash of white-blonde hair by my Jeep. Seren. She leans against the passenger door, watching everyone like she’s ready to bolt or bite depending on who gets too close.
Suspicion slides into place so neatly I could laugh because if anyone was going to take advantage of my unconscious state and decide it was due time to spill the secrets I’ve been too stubborn and terrified to share myself, it would be my best friend turned sister.
I sigh, resigned, because sometimes betrayal has a way of tasting strangely like love when it’s delivered by the right person.
Reaching for Siggy without looking, I find her hand again. “Come on,” I murmur, tugging her toward my waiting friend and car. “We need to get back.”
Home. His room. His scent.
And a conversation that is long overdue.