Chapter 12 - Rick
He woke up snarling and thrashing, lunging for the nearest warm body standing over him. Dane caught him, shoving him back with a hissed curse from where Rick’s punch had clipped him.
Looking around wildly, it took him half a second to realize he was in his bedroom. It took him half a second more to realize his pack brothers were clustered round him, concern etched into their faces, their clothes ragged and muddy.
“Where’s Rosalia?” he said, vaulting from the bed. “Where is she?”
“Easy,” Felix growled, shoving his shoulder back. “She’s fine. She came back with us.”
“I want to see her,” Rick snarled, knocking past Felix.
“Rick,” Felix said, “take a couple of deep breaths, yeah? You’ve only been out an hour or two. Your wounds aren’t properly healed.”
The sting of his ribs barely registered. “I don’t give a shit,” he said, rounding on Felix. “Where the fuck is my wife?”
“I’m here,” a small voice came, and he whirled around to see Rosalia hesitating in the doorway, her eyes flicking between the males. Her hair was partially wet, piled high atop her head, and she was wrapped in a bathrobe.
Rick cleared the distance between them in less than a heartbeat.
And stopped, just shy of touching her.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly at his outstretched hands, her cheeks turning ever so slightly pink.
He swallowed, his jaw tightening. “You were injured, are you alright? Do you need anything?”
She smiled, a quick, beautiful, confused thing, and rubbed at her arm. “Still a bit tender, but I’m mostly healed now.”
Rick followed the movement of her hand, his teeth baring. “That absolute fucking bastard—”
“What about you?” she interrupted, her hands hovering over his chest. Not touching. God, he wanted her to touch him. “I mean, you took all three of them on, your ribs—”
“I’m fine,” he said, glancing down. Indeed, the gashes had mostly closed over, and his bones had set. There was some pretty nasty bruising up his naked torso, but he’d had worse. Much worse. At least his pack brothers had had the presence of mind to put some trousers on him.
“What happened?” Felix said, and Rick turned, still having to fight his instincts to push Rosalia behind him.
“It’s my fault,” Rosalia said, stepping out from behind him, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her head bowed.
Rick’s eyes stayed trained on Felix as she walked contritely towards him, wary of even the slightest movement from the other male.
“I…I ran away. Into the woods. I guess I got too close to the territory line.”
“You were nowhere near the territory line,” Dane growled. “It’s why it took us so long to get to you.”
“Some of the perimeter security feeds picked up the”—Nicolas winced—“the screaming. We dispatched then and there.”
“Not fast enough,” Rick snarled, his fists clenching tight as he stalked forwards to stand behind Rosalia. She didn’t flinch from him. If anything, she stood taller, leaning backwards slightly into him, as if pulled by some invisible force. Rick wasn’t even sure she was aware she had done it.
“Come on, Rick, be reasonable,” Dane said, rubbing the back of his head. “We had no way to predict the Black Claws would be so bold. I mean, why now? Why only three of them?”
“The party,” Rosalia said, her voice quiet, uncertain.
“They must have known we were hosting a party. Other packs were invited. Maybe they figured everyone would still be celebrating, or that enough of our enforcers would be drunk that they’d get away with it…
” she trailed off, fiddling with her sleeve, looking down at the floor.
“Apologies, I…I shouldn’t get involved.”
“No,” said Felix, “it’s a good theory. It explains why there were only three of them. They obviously wanted to get in and out undercover and hoped we’d be too distracted.”
Rosalia sucked in a sharp breath, her hands clasping together.
Something in Rick’s chest twisted.
“Surely they must have known that if we found them, we’d kill them,” said Nicolas, “and what could only three of them hope to achieve?”
“We wouldn’t have found them,” Dane replied, baring his teeth, “not if Rosalia hadn’t been out in the woods. We had a bare-bones patrol out, around the major sites. I think the bastards were trying to run recon.”
“Why was Carter with them?” Nicolas asked. “Surely Raph knew this mission would be dangerous. Why send his only son and heir to the pack?”
“Because Carter’s an arrogant son of a bitch,” Dane said. “Always been desperate to prove himself.”
“Was,” said Rick, his voice eerily calm, “he was an arrogant son of a bitch.”
Felix looked at him, hard. Rick matched his gaze, not flinching away, not apologizing.
Why the fuck should he apologize? Felix seemed to read the steel in his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We’ll need a proper debrief on this in the morning.
Whatever it is you’re planning against the Black Claws, Rick, it better work. We need to be ready.”
“In the morning, then,” Rick said in that same, quiet, deadly tone. Rosalia shuddered.
Felix strode out, jaw tight, Dane throwing Rick a salute as he followed.
“Looks like you got your war,” Nicolas murmured as he brushed past.
Rick growled, but Nicolas just raised an imperious brow and shut the door. Their footsteps echoed down the hall, and Rick didn’t relax until he heard the front door close.
Rosalia spun on him, her fists clenched at her side, “War? You killed Carter to incite a war?”
He blinked in shock, looking down at her, “What? No. Of course I didn’t.”
She gestured to the door. “Then what was Nicolas talking about?”
He was so taken aback by the sudden shift in her demeanor that he couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him. She scowled, her teeth flashing at him, and irritation curled in his gut.
“War was always inevitable,” he said, folding his arms across his chest, “Felix knows that. So does Nicolas.”
“Inevitable? Or just something you want?”
He snarled, but she didn’t shy away from him. “I just saved your life and you’re questioning me about my politics?”
“I am,” she said, two pink spots appearing on her cheeks, “if the only reason you did it was for your precious agenda.”
“For God’s sake,” he spat, throwing his hands up, “first you get angry with me for trying to protect you from your father, now it’s because I’m protecting you for the wrong reasons? What, should I have just left you there at their mercy?”
Her lip quivered, but her anger remained, a vibrant, beautiful thing, “No! Yes, I don’t know!”
“Well, which is it, Rosalia?” he hissed, gesturing to the angry, mottled bruising at his ribs. “I could have saved myself the injury.”
“You said you wouldn’t follow me!”
“You’d be dead if I hadn’t!”
“Maybe if you hadn’t pushed me about my father, I wouldn’t have run away in the first place!”
“So we’re back to this now? I still fail to see what I did wrong!”
“It’s because you don’t get it!”
“What don’t I get?”
“If confronting my father was about your pride and killing the Black Claws was about politics, then it means you don’t really care about me!” she exploded, tears pooling in her bright green eyes.
As soon as she said the words, her eyes widened, and she spun around, hastily swiping at her face.
Rick stood, dumbfounded, for once utterly at a loss.
“Forgive me,” Rosalia said, her voice choking slightly over the bitter words, “I don’t expect you to care about me. This is just a political marriage after all.”
“Rosalia,” he said, reaching for her, his hand hovering over her arm, not touching.
“No,” she said, spinning around, her face set yet again in that damnable mask. “No, I overstepped. I’m sorry. I’m going to bed.”
She strode past him, face down, hidden from his view. She couldn’t hide her scent, however. Her beautiful, wild, passionate scent.
In the end, he couldn’t remain silent.
“I killed him because he touched you.”
Rosalia froze, her hand hovering above the doorknob. She turned back, her lips parted slightly. “What?”
Rick’s jaw worked, his temper flaring. No, not temper. Something else. Something large and fierce and out of his control.
But he had released it now. And there would be no containing it.
He stalked towards her, slow and predatory, not bothering to hide the viciousness in his face, “He touched you. Hurt you. I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t care. All I knew was that a male had you pinned to the forest floor and you were in danger.”
Her chest was moving up and down fast, her breaths shallow and rapid, “I don’t—”
He lunged, hands bracing either side of her against the door. She squeaked, her back hitting the wood, her eyes wide.
“I confronted your father because he insulted you. I killed Carter and the others because they hurt you. If my pride or politics had anything to do with it, it was nothing compared to the anger I felt at you being threatened.”
Her chin tilted upwards, almost imperceptible. His eyes flickered to her lips. Her heart beat against her chest, her pupils dilating.
Deep within him, Rick’s wolf stirred.
“Don’t you get it, Rosalia?” he sneered, eyes flashing. “For better or worse, I care about you.”
She moved closer, eyes trained on his face, watching him closely, “I don’t understand,” she whispered, eyebrows knitting together. “This…this marriage was arranged. You’ve never treated me like your wife.”
“Haven’t I?” he asked, muscles in his arms clenching.
She sucked in a breath. “I…you…you’ve never even touched me.”
“I told you,” he said, his head dipping low. The warmth of her breath fanned over his lips, her body trembling against the door. Close. So close. “I told you, I would not touch you without your consent.”
They were millimeters apart. His wolf roared at him to reach out, to grasp her hips, to claim her lips, to take her.
“What if I…” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “what would happen if I gave it?”
A rumbling growl erupted from his chest. Her lips parted. He could almost taste her. “I think you know what would happen.”