CHAPTER 8
Rhys
Rue’s features are pinched in pain, even as she sleeps. I wasn’t expecting her to pass out immediately after my command, like she was waiting to be somewhere safe. Hell, I didn’t even realize I’d used my bark at first, but some deep part of myself is extremely satisfied that she listens to me. She’s a witch, which means she doesn’t have to follow my orders like a wolf would, but I’m glad she did. She needs the rest if she’s going to make it through this.
I stroke my fingers down her cheek, almost like I can’t help myself as I admire her beauty. She’s stunning with her cute pixie nose and high cheekbones, but my gaze keeps dipping to the puncture wounds on her neck, which are an angry red from the venom. It seems like our enzymes are doing the trick, as there’s silver leaking out, but there’s no certainty to it. This is all on her and her will to live now. My gaze sweeps to her wrist which is resting at an odd angle. I adjust it as easily as I can, knowing it’s likely broken or severely sprained.
Sadly, there’s nothing we can do to heal her injuries ourselves. Our blood can’t heal, not like the vampires can. We already gave her the only help we could offer by using our saliva to counteract the venom. But I can get some antiseptic and clean the scratches.
For a wolf, we’d heal them in no time, but I don’t think witches have accelerated healing. I don’t want to take any chances and let her get an infection.
Her features pinch like she’s having a nightmare and it brings my attention back to her face. The scratches and bruises mottling it and her body from trying to fight off the feral fucker make a bout of rage trickle through me, and my fists clench. I can’t believe a feral was under our damn noses and none of us picked up on him. I want to rip his head clean off his fucking shoulders for touching her. The problem with that? He’s no longer feral. And we need to figure out why.
A growl rumbles from me, causing Rue to shift in her sleep. I wince and get up from the bed so I won’t disturb her with my grumbling. Shit… I can’t stand sitting here, doing nothing. I need to at least find some antiseptic to keep myself busy. Maybe we have some in the first aid kit we keep around in case of an emergency.
With one last glance at the sleeping witch, I slip into the living room of our cabin. Technically, this will be our honeymoon cabin… if we ever find our mate. So, it’s strange having a female in our space that’s not part of the pack or our mate.
My wolf lifts his head at the thought, flashing me his teeth. He’s totally fucking with me. Does he know something I don’t?
I spot Kathan entering through the back door, heading for the sink to wash his hands. “What’s the ETA on the healer?” I ask, hoping she’ll be here any minute in case we don’t have a first aid kit. The only person we’d trust is an older fae, who thrives on being what a client needs when they need it. Her discretion is what keeps her in business.
“Caylix is on the phone with her now,” he responds.
“And the feral fucker?”
“Chained up in the shed so he’s subdued… for now. Who knows for how long though.” He shoots me a hard look as he dries his hands on a cutesy little towel that’s likely all Caylix’s sisters doing. “You know as well as I do that fucking vampire was feral when we got there.”
I meet his stare, steadily. Perks of us both being alphas. There’s always pissing contests… but at the end of the day, we know we’re on the same level as one another. “I’m well aware. I was there—”
“Then why are you not more concerned?” he interjects, his question overlapping my response.
“I am concerned, dickhead,” I snap back, heading to the kitchen sink. I open the cabinet underneath, knowing we keep supplies stashed under here. Other than cleaning solution, there’s six stakes, but no first aid kit. I slam the door closed with a frustrated growl.
“We need answers,” he says, rubbing his chin in thought.
“Yes, we do. But we can ask her when she’s better. You know as well as I do, she’s not in any condition to answer right now. From her confusion over the whole thing, I’m assuming she doesn’t know anyway.”
“She could be a spy!”
“As you’ve already stated.” My tone is a little sharper than I’d intended, but I’m fed the fuck up with his insistence. It’s not doing anyone any good at the moment. My wolf flicks his tail in agitation, telling me we need to hurry up and find a first aid kit. “And if she is, we’ll deal with it later when her body isn’t working overtime to fight through the effects of the vampire venom. Fuck’s sake, dude. Have some compassion.”
I get where Kathan is coming from. I really do. The witches’ grab for more power in the supernatural hierarchy is making tsunami sized waves as they belittle and throw other supe’s under the bus. The uprising is causing unnecessary trouble for the wolves and vampires, but I don’t get ‘ruthless spy’ vibes from Rue. Especially after learning about her friends ditching her.
Kathan grumbles something about little witches under his breath, and I turn on my heel to go check under the bathroom sink. I don’t make it two steps before Caylix walks through the front door, phone to his ear, his face twisted in anger as he paces, wearing a hole in our rug. Well, that doesn’t bode well, and it makes my wolf raise its hackles.
Seeing us, he grunts, “I’m on hold.” His gaze flicks to Kathan. “Where’d you put the feral fuck?”
He waves his hand toward the shed we have out back. “Tied him up with iron chains in the shed. He’s no longer feral,” he confirms, answering Caylix’s next question before he can voice it. We’ve always been like that. As close as brothers—as wolves—can be in a pack.
Caylix gestures toward his phone, turning away from us. “What do you mean you can’t make it? We need you here.” He listens intently for a second, face dropping with every word. “I understand. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he grits out and ends the call without saying anything else.
“She said she can’t make it? I’ve never known Dar’tha to turn down a job.”
He grits his teeth. “There was a death in her family. She’s not taking any clients right now as they’re in mourning.” Shifter shits, you don’t mess with a fae in mourning. They don’t take kindly to it.
My hands ball into fists as I attempt to keep my temper from rising. My protective instincts are in overdrive right now and they will be until Rue is healed. “What are we supposed to do now?” I ask. “Our enzymes can only do so much.”
“I know—”
“We have to do something.”
“I fucking know that.” Caylix’s eyes flash yellow as his wolf rises to the surface and pure power that he hardly ever unleashes fully emanates from him. Fur ripples down his arms and he regards them in shock, waving them in front of his face like that will give him answers. “That hasn’t happened to me since we were teens. I’m always in control of my wolf…”
“It’s her,” Kathan growls. “Both of you are fawning over the witch like she’s our fucking mate or something.”
I freeze, thinking about the way my body reacts to her, that delectable honey scent of hers, and about the pull toward her. Could it be possible?
Could she be our mate?
“We don’t have time to bicker about this at the moment,” Caylix interjects, his tone calmer than before. His eyes return to normal but there’s a war battling in them. “We can talk about the details later. Right now, we have a sick woman in a great deal of pain she never should’ve been in.” He pauses as if the thought of it physically pains him and the anger returns. “Damn it! We’re supposed to stop the feral fuckers before something like this happens.”
I understand his rage because it mirrors my own. And my guilt. But with more and more turning feral every day, it’s becoming quite the challenge for us to cull their numbers. Ferals are usually stronger and faster, so it’s good that they only have one single focus. Food. It makes them easier to kill.
Kathan clears his throat, drawing our attention to him. “Hear me out,” he says, instantly setting me on edge.
“I swear to the moon itself, if you say we need to ditch her somewhere or take her to that awful fucking council, we’re going outside to settle this shit as wolves.” The vehemence in my tone startles me and it feels like more than mere protective instincts. The possibility of Rue being our mate rises again, but I ignore the feeling for now. It could be a residual effect from our saliva.
Caylix’s yellowed gaze flicks to me and there’s a strong simmer the fuck down in it.
Kathan rubs his jaw. “No, even I’m not that much of a bastard. We need to call Slade.”
A growl rips from my throat before I can stop it. “Are you out of your mind? Slade can’t know about this.” Slade’s been trying to find a cure for Feral Sanguinarius for years and absolutely nothing has worked. Until now. Until Rue. She’s the potential cure for a lot of our problems and yet, the thought of her dying, of spilling all her blood for those feral fuckers makes me physically ill. He can’t know this. Not until we can protect her.
I take a step toward Kathan, but he holds a hand up before I can protest further. “Unless we want to break the agreement by hiding this witch from him, we have to call him. This is a vampire issue. And since you’re both so obsessed with getting the witch help, his blood will be able to heal her. After we figure out what’s going on with her blood, he can wipe her fucking memories and we can be rid of her. She’s not our problem.”
“You mean he’ll take her away from us so she’s no longer your problem,” I accuse, my wolf howling his protest right alongside me. Kathan merely shrugs, but I see the longing underneath before he hides it. We all want a mate more than anything and we’d be lying if we said we didn’t.
I turn to Caylix to back me up, but he’s gritting his teeth and seems like he’s truly considering it. “No, not you too.”
“He’s right,” Caylix says, immediately holding up his hands to ward off my objection, commanding me without words to wait for the rest of his response. “We can’t hide Rue and keep the vampire from Slade. There’s no way he won’t find out, especially when the bartender practically saw everything. We must call him or risk the agreement.” He pauses, thinking through the situation thoroughly. He’s always the most rational out of the three of us. “This is a vampire matter and our relationship with Slade is rocky at best. Maybe if we show him Rue, he won’t notice the other issue sitting in our shed until we figure it out ourselves.”
“Fuck the agreement. The witch is mine.” The claim flows out of me faster than I can think it through, my voice darker and more possessive than I’ve ever heard it. Instantly, two sets of eyes snap to mine, but I don’t take it back.
Caylix dips his head in agreement and sighs. “It’s not like I want to hand her over to that psychotic dick, but we don’t have a choice, Rhys. She was bitten by a feral fucker, crossing the lines into vampire territory. We can’t risk it. We have the whole pack to think of,” he soothes, bracing for my reaction. Indignation flares in my gut but he’s already continuing before I can respond. “Let’s put this alliance to the test.”
I can tell by his tone he’s made his decision, and when Caylix sets his mind to something… there’s no changing it. It’s too late, anyway, his fingers are already flying across his phone screen as he dials Slade’s number.
I only hope we’re not signing this witch’s death warrant by him doing so.