19. Annabella
Chapter nineteen
Annabella
As if on cue, the front door banged open downstairs, and a voice carried through the house like it owned every room it passed through.
“Is she up? Thomas, is she up?”
Sofia appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath, green eyes bright with the energy of someone who’d already made fifteen plans before breakfast.
“You’re up! Perfect. We need to talk.”
“That sounds ominous,” I muttered.
She planted her feet and crossed her arms. “I’ve decided you’re not staying here. You’re moving in with me at the Shaw house.”
The Shaw house. Where Sam was staying. Where Sam’s scent would be in every room, every hallway, soaked into the furniture and the walls. Where his bedroom was.
No fucking way.
Wally leaned toward me and stage-whispered, “Your cousin is extremely bossy. I wouldn’t fight it. When she adopts someone, there’s no known countermeasure.”
“I’m not bossy, I’m efficient. Annabella gets a say, but the answer’s going to be yes, so we’re saving time.”
“No.”
“Our guest room is sitting empty. You’re family. You should be with family.” Sofia barreled on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Thomas would still be close by to check on you—”
“I’d prefer to stay here, with Thomas and Wally, if they’re still okay with—”
“We are,” Wally agreed. “Absolutely. But Sofia’s been texting me every hour on the hour asking how you are. It’s exhausting!”
“Wally!” Sofia’s cheeks flushed.
“What? It’s true. Yesterday, while Annabella was sleeping, you showed up six times. Six. I counted.” He turned to me. “She brought you flowers, magazines, a blanket she knitted—badly, I might add—and muffins from the Bottley.”
“The blanket was fine,” Sofia muttered.
“It had holes.”
“Ventilation.”
Thomas watched from the doorframe, arms crossed, the barest hint of amusement on his face.
Sofia’s expression softened. “Look, you’re stuck here for a while. Let me get to know my family. Please?”
The words settled uncomfortably in my chest. I’d spent so long being the outsider, the witch-bitch half-breed no one wanted, that the idea of belonging felt foreign. Dangerous, even.
“I barely know you,” I said.
“Exactly. We need to fix that.” Her chin lifted. “Plus, I make a killer breakfast, and honestly? I could use the company. I love Derek, but the man communicates in grunts half the time.”
Wally snorted. “She’s not wrong.”
Thomas pushed off the doorframe. “Sofia’s right about one thing: you’d be more comfortable there. This is still a medical room. And I’d still be close by.”
“See? Even Thomas agrees.” Sofia looked far too pleased.
The front door opened downstairs.
My wolf knew before I did. She surged to attention, ears pricked, every nerve tuned to a frequency only she could hear. Something in my chest pulled tight, a low hum that vibrated through my ribs and settled behind my sternum.
What the fuck was this?
His scent hit me first, clean now, fresh, cutting through the lavender and baking sugar in the room.
Wally checked his watch. “Forty-three minutes. I had under an hour. Thomas, you owe me a foot rub.”
“I said he should sleep for twelve hours,” Thomas muttered. “I didn’t bet on anything.”
“You implied confidence in his self-preservation instincts. That counts.”
Then Sam was in the doorway wearing dark jeans and a gray T-shirt that pulled across his shoulders in a way that stopped my breathing for a second.
His hair was still damp, making it darker than usual.
The shadows under his eyes hadn’t budged, and he clearly hadn’t slept, but the wrecked edge was gone, replaced by something alert and warm and aimed entirely at me.
I had the sudden, vivid urge to cross the room and run my tongue along the line of his jaw. What in the howling hell was wrong with me?
His nostrils flared. Just barely. And I knew—I knew—he could scent what I was feeling. That traitorous spike of want that my wolf was broadcasting like a distress signal.
He grinned. Slow and devastating. “Missed me already?”
“You were only gone forty minutes.”
“Forty-three,” Wally corrected.
“Forty-three minutes,” I amended. “That’s not enough time to miss anyone.”
“And yet.” Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, and the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing in the room—made my wolf rub up against my ribs. “How’re you feeling?”
“Um. Better.”
Um? UM?! Did I really just um at him? By the dark moon, I was a trained operative. I’d taken down Council members and blown up drug facilities and survived Adarcan’s Kennel, and this man walked into a room smelling like clean laundry, and I forgot how sentences worked.
Sofia looked between us with an expression I wanted to smack off her face. “Right. So. Moving in. Today. Now, actually.”
“Sofia—”
“Nope.” She held up a hand. “You need somewhere to recover. I want my cousin close. End of.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“Nearly dying?” Wally supplied. “Because that’s what you just did. Three days ago. In case the silver burns slipped your mind.”
They hadn’t slipped anything. My body wouldn’t let me forget, every movement a postcard from Adarcan, the cold and the dark and the silver eating through skin.
My gaze slid to Sam.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do. But Gid’s been in contact with Talia, trying to smooth things over, buy us time.
She’s furious. There’s only so much stalling we can do.
People at the Council are asking questions, and the first place they’re going to look for the guy who broke three prisoners out of Adarcan?
” He tilted his head toward the window. “Three Rivers. You want to put Thomas, Wally, Amara, and Ben in the middle of that?”
Bastard. He’d seen my weak spot and hit it with precision.
I ran my fingers along the wound in my side, assessing. Maybe I could—
“And no, you’re not healed enough to run.”
“For fuck’s sake, how do you always know what I’m thinking?”
He just looked at me.
I threw up my hands. “Fine. I’ll move in. But only until I’m well enough to travel. Then I’m gone.”
He winked at me. Actually fucking winked. And then said, “Good girl.”
And I swear to every goddess who ever lived, my entire body lit up like a Solstice bonfire. Just—whoosh. Heat from scalp to toes, and my vagina held a mini disco party.
“Perfect!” Sofia clapped her hands. “Sam, you can carry her if—”
“I can walk,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
Sam’s eyes met mine, and I swear I saw laughter there. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“Because you look a little unsteady.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re gripping the windowsill like it’s the only thing keeping you vertical.”
Hex it. He was right. I was.
I forced myself to let go, to stand without support. My legs held, though my side protested. “See? Fine.”
“Stubborn,” Sam corrected, but there was warmth in his voice.
Which somehow made it worse. Or better. I didn’t know anymore.
“I prefer ‘determined.’”
“Most stubborn people do.” He pushed off the doorframe. “Let’s get you settled before Sofia starts planning your entire recovery schedule.”
“Too late,” Sofia said cheerfully. “I’ve already mentally allocated mealtimes, rest periods, and daily check-ins. Oh, and movie nights. We’re so doing movie nights.”
I stared at her. “You’re serious.”
“Extremely. I told you, I’m not wasting the time we have. You’re here. You’re family. And I’m going to make sure you know it.”
Something in my throat tightened.
Sofia made a happy sound that was almost a squeal. “This is going to be great; I can feel it. Cousin bonding, Pack integration, and—”
“Sof,” Sam said, still watching me. “Maybe ease up before you scare her off.”
“I’m not scared,” I said automatically.
His mouth curved. “No. You’re terrified. But you’re doing it anyway.” He held out his hand, not demanding, just offering. “Come on, Moonbeam. Let’s go home.”
Home.
The word shouldn’t have affected me. But it did.
I looked at his outstretched hand. At Sofia’s hopeful face. At Wally already packing supplies and Thomas watching this entire exchange with a smile on his face.
Then I took Sam’s hand.