Chapter 9 #2
“This isn’t something you need to fight,” he explained quietly. “It’s biology. It’s our bond. Let us take care of you, Tamsin.”
I looked from his hand to his face, searching for hesitation or pity and finding neither. Just calm certainty and a warmth that felt suspiciously soothing.
“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
“You can,” Elias said, taking another stool and sitting down beside me. He reached out and gently took my free hand and laced our fingers together. “And you will.”
His touch was like a spark on dry tinder.
The heat that had been coiling in my belly erupted, a sudden, molten wave that made me gasp. I felt a flush creep up my neck, hotter than before, and a wave of slickness rushed between my thighs. His thumb stroked over my knuckles, and my inner wolf whimpered, arching toward him.
Elias’s gaze darkened, sensing my response. “Let us in, little mate.”
It wasn’t a command, not really. It was a choice. A choice he was laying before me, knowing what I would decide.
I didn’t answer with words. I just stopped fighting.
The tension went out of my shoulders. The muscles in my back relaxed. I leaned into his touch. My body was thrumming, a live wire of need and anticipation, and for once, I didn’t try to pretend otherwise.
A low hum of approval rumbled in Griff’s chest. He moved to the other side of the cot, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. He didn’t touch me, not yet. He just watched, his eyes burning, letting the tension build, letting the anticipation stretch thin and taut.
Bishop remained where he was, one hand still on my shoulder, a grounding, steadying presence. Eamon’s hand finally grazed my skin and settled against my knee.
Elias bent his head, his breath brushing my ear. “We’re all going to take you,” he murmured, his voice a rough growl. “One by one. We’ll help you through your heat.”
A shudder ran through me, a violent, electric jolt of pure desire. I could feel the promise of it in the air, a heavy, potent thing that made my head spin. I was no longer in control. My wolf was at the helm, and she wanted all of them. Now.
Elias didn’t wait for an answer. He just claimed my mouth.
His kiss was nothing like Griff’s. It wasn’t a punishment or a soft reassurance, but an exploration.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I opened for him without hesitation.
He slid inside, tasting, teasing, a slow, deep kiss that built a fire in my blood, one that burned hotter with every passing second.
His other hand came up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, holding me still as he deepened the kiss, taking what he wanted, and giving me what I needed.
I was drowning. The world narrowed to the sensation of his mouth on mine, the scent of him, the feel of his hands on my skin. I arched into him, a silent, desperate plea for more. My fingers clutched at his shoulders, my nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.
When the kiss finally ended, I was breathless, my lips swollen, my body humming with a need that bordered on pain. My gaze was hazy, unfocused, and it took me a moment to realize Griff had moved. He stood there, watching me, his eyes dark, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
Then Bishop leaned in.
He was so close that I could see the faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his pupils dilated as he looked at me. He didn’t claim my mouth. He simply brushed his lips against mine, a gentle, almost chaste touch that was more intimate than any kiss I’d ever had.
It was a question.
And I answered by parting my lips, giving him a silent invitation.
He took it.
His kiss made my toes curl. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. His mouth on mine was pure, unadulterated tenderness, and it unraveled me in a way the others hadn’t.
A soft, helpless sound escaped my throat. I leaned into him, my body pliant, my mind a blur of sensation. He tasted of mint and something uniquely Bishop, and I couldn’t get enough.
When he finally pulled back, I was dazed, my head spinning, my body aching with a need that was so intense it was almost painful. I looked up at him, my vision blurry, my lips parted, and saw the same need reflected in his eyes.
Then Eamon was there too.
He knelt by the cot, his expression calm, his movements intentional. He didn’t rush. He simply looked at me, his gaze unwavering, as if he was memorizing every detail of my face.
“Easy,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.”
He leaned in and kissed me.
His kiss was different from all the others. It was gentle but came with a focused intensity that was both encouraging and incredibly arousing. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was reading me, learning my responses, and cataloguing every shudder, every gasp, every tremor.
His hands were not idle either. One slid up my side, his thumb brushing the swell of my breast, a touch that sent a hot wave of desire straight to my core. The other rested on my hip, a steadying, possessive pressure that held me in place as he deepened the kiss.
I melted against him, a helpless, breathless sigh escaping my lips. The heat inside me surged. My hips rocked in a seeking, desperate motion that I couldn’t control.
Eamon pulled back just enough to speak, his breath warm against my lips. “You’re so responsive,” he murmured, his thumb finding and circling my clit through the sheet. “So ready for us.”
I whimpered, my body arching, pleading for more. The need was a living thing inside me now, a desperate, clawing hunger that demanded to be sated.
And then the door slammed open.
Nox burst into the room like a throwing axe, eyes cutting through the room in a single sweep.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said. His gaze flicked to me, hesitated for a second, and then locked onto Elias.
“Talk,” Elias replied.
Nox took two strides into the room, breath still coming hard. “Commander Dane contacted London.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach.
“He’s initiated something he called Phase Gray,” Nox went on. “But that’s not all. Dane’s been given a specific task along with it.”
Silence pressed in.
“To kill you,” Nox finished, looking directly at Elias.
Griff swore. Bishop’s breath left him in a slow exhale. Eamon’s eyes closed for half a second, then opened with a dangerous glint sparking from them.
Elias nodded once, as if confirming a theory rather than hearing a death sentence. “When?”
“Now,” Nox said.
Before I could ask what that meant, Eamon was moving. He crossed the room quickly, shoving a bundle of clothes into my hands. I looked down to see some dark trousers, a shirt, and a pair of worn boots.
In the presence of danger, my heat withered away into dust.
“Get dressed,” he said, already turning away. “Quickly.”
Griff stepped in closer, blocking my view of the door as if shielding me from what was coming. “We’ll hold the corridor.”
“No,” I said, already swinging my legs off the cot. “We move together.”
I dressed fast, hands steady despite the heated adrenaline flooding my veins. Eamon pressed my knife into my palm, the familiar weight grounding me instantly.
The first howl split the night from somewhere outside.
Every hair on my body rose.
Elias turned for the door. “Move.”
We spilled out of the med bay and into the corridor at a run. Another howl echoed, closer this time, followed by the answering chorus of more.
Then there were too many to count.
“East side, by the tree line,” Nox said, already moving ahead, voice calm despite the chaos.
We burst through the doors at the far end, and night rushed to meet us.
Cold air slapped my face as we spilled outside. The compound was lit by the bright moonlight overhead. Beyond that light, the forest’s edge crawled with movement.
There were eyes.
Dozens of them.
They glinted back at us from the trees, yellow and white and unblinking, scattered at different heights like stars gone wrong. Shapes moved between the trunks, their outlines jerking in a way that made my skin crawl.
Another howl rose into a scream that shredded into a snarl halfway through. A shape lunged forward, massive and misshapen, fur patchy and bristling, limbs moving at angles that didn’t look quite right. The shape skidded into the edge of the moonlight and stopped.
For half a heartbeat it simply stood there, chest heaving, head low, sides shuddering like it couldn’t decide which instinct to obey. Moonlight caught on patchy fur and red eyes. Saliva dripped from its jaws, stringing to the ground in glistening threads that snapped when it lifted its head.
Its eyes were not empty.
That was the worst part.
They were wide and unfocused, but not mindless. There was pain in them. Confusion. A trapped, screaming awareness that made my skin crawl far worse than any mindless beast ever could.
Then it took a step forward.
Another howl answered from the trees, closer now, and then another. Shapes shifted between trunks, pacing just beyond the light like a tide pulling back before it rushed the shore.
Elias lifted a hand.
“Hold.”
We did—without question, without discussion—forming up as if we’d trained for this our entire lives.
Griff shifted his stance slightly, shoulders rolling back in preparation.
Bishop stepped a pace ahead of us. Nox moved to my right, eyes scanning the edge of the forest. Eamon stayed behind us, but he was ready to fight, too.
Elias stood in front of me, ever the leader.
The feral wolf crept closer, claws scraping softly over dried leaves. It crossed fully into the moonlight now, the glow outlining ribs that jutted too sharply beneath its hide. It circled, pacing, muscles bunching and releasing in jerky, uneven rhythms.
Then another stepped up beside it.
Then another.
They gathered at the edge of the yard, a loose, shifting line of broken bodies and burning eyes, the forest behind them alive with movement. Branches shook. Leaves rustled.
My grip tightened on my knife.
And then, another sound cut through the night.
Boots.
Human boots.
From behind us.
I looked over my shoulder to see figures emerge from the compound buildings and side corridors, silhouettes coming into focus as they stepped into the moonlight.
Clara Hines came first, medical badge still pinned crookedly to her vest, rifle braced against her shoulder with hands steadier than I’d ever seen them.
Beside her was Corporal James Rowe, hand bandaged, eyes hard with resolve.
Another followed, then another, all men and women who had stayed when Dane walked out.
“We heard the howls,” Clara called. “Figured you might need the help.”
Relief surged through me.
They fanned out instinctively, forming a rough second line behind us.
They just kept coming.
Out of doorways and shadowed corridors, from half-collapsed buildings and side yards I hadn’t even noticed before. Men and women stepped into the moonlight in ones and twos at first, then in clusters, then in a steady stream that made my pulse start to race for an entirely different reason.
I counted without meaning to. Twenty. Thirty.
Fifty. And then the numbers stopped mattering, because the yard behind us filled until it felt like the night itself had taken shape and stood at our backs.
Nearly a hundred souls, breathing together, lining up shoulder to shoulder behind wolves they’d once been taught to hate.
The feral at the edge of the forest snarled, pacing faster now.
The night held its breath.
And so did we.