69. Henri
Chapter 69
Henri
Deacon looks like an angel when he’s asleep. His soft brown hair, which is getting long, falls in his face.
“I can feel you staring at me,” Deacon murmurs.
Busted. “Sorry.”
He opens his eyes, and they’re soft and full of sleep. He blinks a bit. “What time is it?”
“Early. Like six a.m.,” I answer, earning a wrinkled nose from him and mock disgust.
“Ew. They make one of those in the morning still?” Deacon pulls me into his arms, dragging me across the small space of the bed to hold me against his chest. “You’re feeling better?”
I nod against his collarbone. “I feel more like me.”
“I’m glad.” He draws long, deep breaths of my scent from the top of my head, and in the silence, I think he’s gone back to sleep.
Moving very slowly and methodically, I try to slip out of his arms.
Deacon’s grip firms up. “Where we going?”
“I was going to let you sleep a little bit,” I whisper as quietly as I can. “You go back to sleep. I’ll go clean up from last night.”
“Already did.” Deacon yawns and rolls onto his back, dragging me with him. His chest rumbles as he speaks. “After you passed out, I carried you down here and tucked you into bed, then brought everything inside.”
“All the more reason for you to sleep. You’ve been amazing. You deserve rest.” Let me care for you now. I keep that to myself because something tells me he’s going to argue that he’s still taking care of me.
“Can’t.” Deacon’s voice drops, that one word marked with defeat. “The longer I lie around and do nothing, the more stuff catches up with me.”
I think through things, trying not to be dense, but come up empty. “Like what?”
He stills, even his breathing cuts off, and I look up at him. His eyes are vacant, staring at the ceiling. “Everything?”
You’re being nosey, Henri, I remind myself.
It’s not nosey if it’s out of a place of love. My wolf pushes.
There’s a tightness in the connection between us and what must be the mating bond.
I’m still trying to think of something to say when Deacon breaks through. “We almost lost Ansel.”
Moisture is gathering in his eyes, and I push up onto my elbow to better talk with him and be equals.
“As long as I’ve fucking known him, he’s been invincible.” Deacon shakes his head. “Maybe it’s silly to believe that of someone. But he’s always been larger than life to me. After meeting our mother, I knew I would probably never tell him because he wouldn’t know how to handle that or process that type of news. For someone who lives finding the best in people, it—” Deacon cuts himself off, laughing and shaking his head. “The reason I can’t tell him lines up with what Revecca called me. The Ardelean wolves are reincarnated time and time again. They call my wolf the guardsman, and fuck if that doesn’t feel like the most ridiculous and fitting title I could ever have. I’ll protect the rest of the world so long as no one looks too closely at me and my post.”
I don’t know what to say. I know I should say something, and words are on the tip of my tongue, but nothing comes out.
“We almost lost Ansel,” Deacon repeats. “You fell apart so badly that I had to be the responsible one to put you back together.” He sighs. “Lena was her own science experiment, and it nearly became a study on Darwin.” His chest rises and falls erratically. “Thalia was an amazing human.” He forces air into his lungs. “At what point do I admit that I’ve failed because everyone I’ve ever loved has been hurt on so many levels.”
“Stop.” I cut him off, climbing on top of him and straddling his chest. “I’m going to need you to talk nicer about my best friend.”
He looks up at me and shakes his head. “We’ve gotta get you some old ladies to crochet with. I’m a really dangerous friend. Didn’t you hear about all the people I’ve ever loved?”
Shaking my head right back at him, I lean down until our noses press together. I plant a chaste kiss on his lips and then rest our foreheads together.
My wolf hums in pleased, connected delight. Ours.
“Ansel had you rallying for him and holding his pack together. Lena let Finn in because you were there to meddle and push them together. Thalia has never been happier. Cade has never been prouder of you.” I add that last one in and feel him furrow his brow against mine. “You don’t have to believe me for it to be true.”
Deacon gives a small laugh and wraps his arms around me, holding me to his chest as if gravity wouldn’t do a good enough job.
“You don’t have coping mechanisms that are healthy, so should we get you some old lady friends to crochet with?” I try to break some of his tension.
“The advice I’ve received recently is to embrace my wolf,” Deacon grumbles.
“Okay.” I push up off him, forcing him to let me go. “Let’s do it.”
“Do what?” He pushes up, trying to grab for me again, but I bound off the bed quicker than his long arms can reach.
“Be more wolf.” I smile at him, hoping he’s catching on.
Even the wolf inside me is surprised. You? You want to shift?
“Well, alright. Fuck it. Let’s go.” Deacon rolls out of bed and follows me through the cabin to the door leading to the deck.
I pause at the door. You can do this, Henri. I coach myself.
“You’re still on the cusp of heat,” Deacon whispers.
He snakes his arm around my waist and wraps his hand around mine on the doorknob.
“I know there aren’t other wolves here. But it would be understandable if you’re uncomfortable and don’t want to go. I’m okay. I promise.”
He’ll protect us, my wolf confirms, her tail wagging softly.
“We could get the range up here. But I’m going to warn you, cougars smell.” Deacon laughs. “Okay, no, they don’t smell, that was mean. Don’t tell Deanie.”
“She’s so nice. I can’t believe I got jealous of her.” I get up the courage and twist the doorknob, Deacon moving with me.
Out on the deck, the cool morning air immediately pebbles my nipples and cools the red embarrassment off my face.
“She’s all good. Deanie didn’t get to being Reinha Gata by being afraid of a little jealousy,” Deacon says before letting out a loud shiver .
I turn around to offer going back inside, but he’s already sliding his pants off.
“But don’t worry about me and Deanie. Never went there. Ems is head over heels for her and called dibs within like two seconds of seeing her. Fuckin’ cats. They have to actually draw blood from each other to figure out if they’re mates. It’s nuts. I’ll take this weird ‘know it when you see it, but it’s not pornography’ any day.”
He looks at me, pants around his ankles, and gestures up and down his body and then mine. “Henri, are you overdressed for this party, or am I underdressed?”
I pull his T-shirt off, revealing that I didn’t find panties or he didn’t put them on me last night.
“Fuck. That is never not going to be the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His eyes are heavy with desire as he looks at me.
“Come on,” I urge. “We’re learning how to cope.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Deacon draws a deep breath and effortlessly falls into the large whiteish, cream-colored wolf.
Come on. I call to mine, and she responds quickly, dropping me to all four feet with ease.
We are one in an instant. I’ve never shifted so effortlessly. All four feet land on the ground, and I feel different physically and mentally. We, my wolf and I, move without a struggle between us. Is this what it’s supposed to be like?
He cocks his head to the side, watching me, but when we brush along his side, he relaxes, nibbling at the fur next to our ear before stepping into us and directing us toward the stairs. A new obstacle we navigate much easier than expected, managing not to face-plant into the ground.
Deacon stays right by my side, just like during all the pack runs in the past. We’re slower than if we were running with the group, trotting small laps around the house before expanding our walk to a small game trail.
The woods smell different here than back home. There are all sorts of strange scents we don’t know how to identify. Walking ahead, nose to the ground, we feel like we’ve lost Deacon and turn around to find him lifting his leg on a tree. Ewww.
His tongue lolls out the side of his mouth as he finishes and gives a full body shake before bounding and leaping, kicking his feet out on his way toward us. He pushes, nipping at our heels, indicating we move faster rather than the casual trot we’d been doing. We run down the trail at almost top speed. At one point it feels like flying with the sandy soil under our feet and the morning sun, bright and shining among newly budding life.
We flush a bird from the bush, and it flies off. Deacon jumps and snaps at it, only missing by a few inches.
He falls to the ground and rolls in the dirt. Wagging his tail, he contorts his body and throws his feet into the air like the puppies in the videos on the internet.
Awkwardly we dance back and forth between our paws. In a tight circle, he brushes around me before leading us back around through the woods to the cabin.
Contentment blankets me, and my world is warm and happy.
We shift back, and Deacon is immediately more laid back, his shoulders dropped into a carefree slouch, and for now, at least, I feel like we can do this.