Chapter 16
Emily woke with a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs like it wanted to break free.
Pain exploded through her chest as she tried to draw a deep, cleansing breath.
The nightmare clung to her, sticky and suffocating.
Her mother's face, contorted with rage. Her father's hand reaching for another syringe.
The darkness swallowed her whole as they stood over her, smiling and telling her it was for her own good.
She pressed her palm flat against her chest, trying to slow her breathing. The room was dark. Unfamiliar shapes loomed in the shadows. Then she heard it. A soft, rhythmic sound beside her. Ian's snore, barely more than a whisper of breath.
She turned her head to him. He lay on his back, one arm thrown over his head, the other resting on his stomach. The sheet had slipped down to his hips, and the pale moonlight that shimmered through the window painted his bare chest in a silvery glow. He looked peaceful. Safe.
Emily focused on the sound of his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Letting it anchor her back to reality, back to the room, the bed, this moment where her parents couldn't touch her anymore.
But her mind wouldn't quiet. The nightmare was too fresh, too painful to shrug off.
A million questions ran through her mind in what seemed to be a never-ending freaking loop.
What was happening to them right now? Rafe had said pack law would deal with them, but what did that actually mean?
She pictured her mother in some kind of cell, her perfect hair mussed, her designer clothes replaced by an ugly-ass orange jumpsuit.
The image felt wrong, almost laughable. Shifters didn't have regular jails, did they?
There were no shifter prisons in the human world.
So where did Rafe take them? Did she really want to know if it was somewhere fucking horrible?
Would they die for what they did to her?
The thought sent a cold shock through her body.
As much as she hated them in that moment, as much as she wanted them to pay for every needle, every lie, every year they stole from her, they were still her parents.
Some broken, twisted part of her still very much loved them.
She didn't want their blood on her hands.
That was not something she could have on her conscience or even begin to figure out how to deal with.
But maybe that wasn't up to her. Pack law was ancient, brutal in its own way. She'd heard whispers at the Convergence, stories about shifters who broke the most sacred laws. Exile. Forced shifting until the mind broke. In the old days, execution. Her stomach churned at those very thoughts.
What if Rafe decided that her parents’ death was the only answer?
What if she woke up tomorrow and learned her parents were gone forever, and she had to carry that weight?
She'd spent her whole life as their prisoner, and now she might be the reason they ceased to exist. She definitely wasn’t ready for that.
The irony tasted like a bitter ash on her tongue.
"Hey." Ian's voice was rough with sleep, his hand finding her shoulder in the dark. "What’s wrong, love? You're shaking."
She hadn't realized she was. Her whole body trembled, small involuntary spasms she couldn't control. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."
He rolled toward her, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes were barely open, his hair sticking up in every direction, and he looked so beautifully normal that some of the tension in her chest unknotted. "Nightmare?"
"Yeah." She swallowed. "I keep thinking about them. Where they are. What's going to happen."
Ian reached up, his thumb brushing her cheek. She realized then that she was crying, silent tears she hadn't even noticed before he’d touched them. "Rafe will do what's right. He's fair, Em. He won't let them go unpunished, but he won't be cruel either. He’s a good man. A great Alpha."
"What if fair means they die?" Her voice cracked on the last word. "I keep imagining it, Ian. I keep seeing my mother's face, and I don't know if I'm seeing her alive or...or not. I don't know which would be worse." Her voice creaked at the end of her sentence.
Ian was quiet for a moment, his hand still cradling her face. "Then that's on them. Not you. They made their choices, every single day they chose to drug you instead of love you."
She squeezed her eyes shut, more tears spilling over. "But what if I could have stopped it? What if I could have figured it out sooner, and none of this would have happened?"
"You were a child, Emily. A child who trusted her parents. That's not on you."
Ian shifted closer, his body warm and solid against hers. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her toward him, so they were lying face to face, her forehead pressing against his chest. She could hear his heart beating there, steady and strong.
"Emily, you are mine. My love, my mate, my world," he murmured into her hair. "Whatever happens, I've got you."
She tilted her face up to look at him. The moonlight caught his eyes, turning them into the electric blue she loved so much. Her wolf stirred inside her, instantly recognizing him, wanting her mate. The mating bond hummed between them, a living thing.
She reached up and traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble there.
He turned his head slightly, placing a kiss on her palm.
The gesture was so tender, so sweet, so simple, that something inside her broke open.
She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to be afraid of what was going to happen.
She just wanted to feel him, to remember that she was alive and free, and, most importantly, his.
"Ian," she whispered.
He must have heard everything she couldn't say.
His eyes darkened, and he leaned into her, his mouth finding hers.
The kiss started out soft and questioning, but she answered with her whole body.
She pressed against him, her hands sliding up his back, feeling every hardened muscle and the heat of him seeping into her.
He groaned against her lips, his strong arms tightening around her. "Em," he breathed, and the way he said her name, half prayer, half promise, sent fire tearing through her veins.
She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, her hair falling around them like a curtain.
His hands found her hips, gripping her hard enough to bruise.
She didn’t care. She loved every freaking second of it.
She loved the possessiveness in his touch, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
But then again, he had always looked at her like that.
"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice rougher than normal.
"You," she said, grinding down onto him. She could feel his cock hardening beneath her. The knowledge that she did this to him, that she had that sort of power over him, made her dizzy. "Just you. Only you. Always you."
He flipped her onto her back with a growl that vibrated through her chest. His mouth found her neck, her collarbone, her breast, each kiss leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, she arched off the bed with a cry, her fingers tangling in his hair.
"Ian, please," she begged, not sure what she was asking for, just knowing she needed more of everything he had to offer.
He didn't make her wait. His hand slid between her legs, finding her wet and ready for him. He teased her with his fingers, circling her clit until she was panting for air and writhing beneath him.
"Look at me," he commanded. "Stay with me, Emily. Right here."
She forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze.
The connection between them flared, the mate bond pulsing with each heartbeat.
He palmed his cock, pressing it against her entrance and teasing her with the head.
When he finally entered her, it was slow and deliberate, filling her completely.
She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper.
They moved together, finding a rhythm that was theirs alone. Each thrust drove the nightmare further away, replaced by the raw, overwhelming reality of him. She dug her nails into his back, gripping him tighter with each deep, hard thrust.
"Harder," she gasped, and he obeyed, driving into her with a force that should have hurt but didn't. It was beyond perfect. Every touch, every lick, every kiss, every nibble, every thrust, he seemed to deliver just as she needed it in perfect synchrony with her thoughts.
He shifted his angle slightly, and she felt him hit that spot inside her, the one that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
She cried out, her head falling back against the sheets, and he took advantage of the exposed column of her throat, sucking and biting until she knew she would wear his marks tomorrow.
"Come for me, Emily," he growled against her skin. "Let go. I've got you, love."
His words shattered the last of her restraint.
She came with his name tearing from her throat, her body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.
It was violent, cathartic, a cleansing fire that burned away every trace of the nightmare, every whisper of doubt.
For those endless seconds, there was nothing but him, nothing but this, nothing but the pure, blinding relief of her release.
He followed seconds later, burying his face in her neck with a guttural groan that she felt in her bones. She held him through it, her hands stroking his back, his hair, anywhere she could touch. The mate bond flared between them, bright and warm, wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.
Afterward, she lay tangled in his arms, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly get back to a normal rhythm.
The nightmare felt distant now, a fading shadow.
Her parents' fate was still uncertain, still terrifying, but in this moment, with Ian's warmth surrounding her, with the pleasant ache between her thighs reminding her she was alive, with the mate bond humming serenely in her chest, she could breathe.
"Better?" he asked, his voice a rumble she felt against her cheek.
She nodded, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Better. Thank you. I needed that."
He ran his hand down her hair to her back, holding her close. "Try to get some rest. I'll be right here."
“Mmmhmmm.” That was the last thing Emily remembered as the darkness pulled her under.