Chapter 13 An Unhelpful Development #4
The size of him. The scar near his jaw. The way his hair fell slightly over his forehead and had loose strands at his neck from where it was tied back.
The deep dark color of his eyes. The way he was choosing, second by second, not to cross the space between us and take the letter from me.
Not to crush it. Not to go find Grant and turn all that polished hunger into blood on stone.
He wanted to.
God help me, I could feel that he wanted to. And he was not doing it.
My pulse kicked hard enough that Sava looked at me. Ian’s gaze dropped to the monitor and the jealousy vanished behind concern so fast it almost left me dizzy.
“What does it say?” Ronan asked.
I folded the letter once. “Nothing useful.”
Ian’s eyes lifted to mine, he knew that was not true.
Ronan held out his hand. “Cassie.”
“No.”
The word came out calm, which surprised everyone, including me.
Ronan’s face hardened. “If Carrington is making threats or trying to interfere with containment, I need to know.”
“He is not making threats.”
Ian’s voice was low. “He upset you.”
I looked at him. The jealousy was still there, buried now under control. I could feel the edges of it. Hot. Humiliatingly satisfying in a way I refused to examine while conscious.
“Yes,” I said. “That does not mean he gets a response.”
I looked down at the folded letter. Grant wanted words. Anger. Denial. Outrage. Anything he could hold up and say, see, there is still something between us. I had given Grant years of explanations. He had eaten them all and asked why I was starving.
“No response,” I said.
Ian’s shoulders shifted as something in him eased.
“You are certain?” Ronan asked.
“Yes.”
Ronan nodded once to Lucien and Lucien took the folded letter from my hand.
Ian watched the paper leave me, and he quieted by degrees. My body missed the heat of his reaction before my mind could tell it to have some self-respect.
I looked at Ian. “Do not kill him.”
His jaw tightened.
“I mean it,” I said.
“I heard you.”
“Did the wolf hear me?”
His eyes held mine. “Yes.”
I looked away first.
“Good,” I said. “Then tell him I’m ignoring him.”
Lucien paused. “Tell Mr. Carrington?”
“No.” I leaned back in the chair, exhausted but suddenly clear in a way pain could not dull. “Tell him nothing. Let him wonder whether I read it.”
For the first time since I had met him, Lucien smiled. “An elegant cruelty.”
“It’s not cruelty,” I said. “It’s silence.”
And because Grant had never known what to do with a woman who stopped explaining herself, that would hurt him more than anything I could write.
Ronan’s phone rang. He answered, listened for three seconds, and his expression shut down.
“What?” Ian asked.
Ronan looked toward the hedge, then the distant line of the service road beyond it.
“They found Brenner.”
“Alive?” Ian asked.
Ronan’s eyes came to me once, then back to his brother. “Yes.”
For reasons I didn’t understand, that answer didn’t make anything feel better.
Ian’s voice changed. “Where?”
“North service road. Sava’s people have him.”
“Who found him?”
“Holloway patrol.”
Ian looked toward the hedge, every line of him tightening. “I need to see him.”
“Yes,” Ronan said. “You do.”
The answer surprised me. Apparently it surprised Ian too, because he didn’t move.
Ronan looked at me. “You go back inside.”
“Naturally.”
“This is not for you.”
“Few things are, yet somehow I keep being included.”
His expression gave nothing away. “Sava.”
Sava came to my side and checked the small monitor clipped to my wrist. “Her pulse is up, but not dangerously.”
“Can she tolerate Ian leaving?”
I looked at her. “Love being discussed like luggage with a heart rate.”
Sava ignored me with the ease of long practice. “For a short time. Inside, resting, with medication ready.”
Ian didn’t like that. I felt the dislike before he said anything, a hard pressure under my ribs, controlled but immediate.
“I can go inside,” I said.
Ian’s eyes came to mine and for a second, the air between us felt too…
aware. I had the sudden, unwelcome understanding that he knew I was tired because my shoulders had dropped half an inch.
He knew the letter had bothered me because I had stopped making jokes for nearly a minute.
He knew my pain was manageable because I was irritated rather than quiet.
And I knew he wanted to stay. Leaving me after that letter felt wrong to something in him that didn’t care about Ronan’s investigation.
I looked away first.
“Go do the wolf thing,” I said. “Find the missing guard. Snarl at a tree. Whatever the job requires.”
His mouth didn’t move, but something in his eyes eased. Not humor exactly, but close enough to bother me.
“I do not snarl at trees.”
“Good. I’m sure they have enough problems.”
Sava took the handles of the wheelchair before Ian could.
Ronan started toward the service path with Lucien at his side. Ian stayed one second longer.
“Cassie.”
I looked up.
His voice was lower now. Not soft. Ian didn’t do soft in any obvious way. But careful.
“If the mark pulls too hard, tell Sava.”
“I was planning to suffer in silence for dramatic contrast.”
His brow drew slightly.
I sighed. “Yes. I’ll tell her.”
He nodded once, then he followed Ronan.
The moment he passed through the hedge, the mark tightened. I gripped the armrest and said nothing as Sava began pushing me toward the service lift.