24. Leaving
Leaving
H appiness burrowed into Geralt’s chest as he gazed down at Greta’s sleeping face, lax in slumber. Some of the dark circles shadowing her eyes had faded. Her cheeks filled out some with Helen regularly plying her with food. His chest tightened and an uneasy sigh escaped him.
They’d been inseparable for the past week. He spent more time inside his mate than running the pack, grateful for having an unmated Beta. But he’d put off the visit to the Silver Lake pack long enough. He could never allow happiness to take root and grow fully as long as his pup suffered. Abbigail needed to be brought home.
During their short time apart during the day, he knew Greta worked diligently in the room he’d set up for her in the back of the packhouse. She still griped it was too small for her needs, but she complained less after he bent her over her worktable and knotted her from behind. His cock hardened, thinking of how her legs shook and jerked beneath him with her climax, as if she could escape the pleasure he brought her. The entire packhouse probably heard her screams.
He inhaled more of her scent, letting it soothe him. He wanted inside her again, but that was the rut talking. Newly mated couples fucked several times a day for nearly a month until the bond settled, pheromones shifting into a semblance of normalcy. He remained lucky Greta wasn’t a she-wolf or rarely interacted with other members outside of his circle of warriors.
He suspected she’d put a male Lycan to shame with her territoriality. Her spark drew him like a moth to a flame, but her fire could burn as easily as warm him from the inside. He’d lost one mate, he wouldn’t risk losing another.
Greta grunted, huffing in her sleep. His lips placed a chaste kiss to her forehead. Breathing became difficult as he shifted her weight carefully off of his chest, trying not to wake her. He loathed the idea of sneaking away, but the witch proved she held no qualms about striding head first into danger.
He’d rest easier knowing Helen and Gabriel would look after her in his absence. He trusted she’d continue working on a spell to aid Abbigail’s rescue while he interrogated the Lycan in the Silver Lake pack, gaining solid blueprints for the interior of the palace.
Once they possessed a plan and a weapon, he could decide who he could trust to go into enemy territory and bring his daughter home. It irked him to consider sending someone after his child instead of going himself, but he couldn’t risk Greta’s safety. She’d insist on going with him.
Greta grunted, snorting out a breath and frowning in her sleep now that she no longer rested on his chest. His heart squeezed painfully, but he steeled himself against the hollowing feeling. He’d lost one mate and leaving another behind for a few days didn’t compare.
He looked forward to reuniting with his witch and knotting her again, hearing her incoherent moans in his ear and her nails dragging along his back. He almost wished she had claws, so she could mark him for days instead of the minutes it took for his flesh to heal.
His bare feet touched the floor, eyes observing the rise and fall of Greta’s chest. Helen packed his bags disapprovingly a couple of days ago. Gabriel remained a smart male and didn’t comment on his plan to sneak away from his mate to visit a foreign pack.
He held back a sigh, striding toward his closet on the other side of the spacious bedroom. He looked forward to the day Greta considered Blood Moon her home and decides to leave her mark on it. To make her feel at ease, he desired for her to redecorate the house in any way she wanted.
His hands pulled open the closet door, reaching down for the small duffel lightly packed with a few pairs of clothes. He didn’t expect an extended stay or a warm welcome. Helen packed light, intimately familiar with how such a trip could turn deadly.
His jaw clenched, briefly thinking of his own father, who never returned from a similar trip to a different pack. Protect mate, Ryker snarled in his head, his fear bleeding into Geralt. Geralt closed his eyes, trying to reason with the beast. Ryker wanted to leave Greta even less than he did. Geralt suspected the beast chafed from the inability to bond with Greta, since she lacked a wolf for them to bond with.
Gabriel and Helen will protect Greta , he soothed. Ryker prowled his mind restlessly, unappeased. Geralt pulled on clean sweatpants and a plain shirt, darting frequent glances at his sleeping mate. If she woke up and saw the bag at his feet, he wasn’t sure he could talk her out of insisting on coming with him. She is a warrior, Ryker proclaimed proudly. A smile stretched Geralt’s lips. He could agree with his animal on that. Greta was a worthy mate, strong and brave.
He hefted the duffel on one shoulder, looking longingly at Greta’s sleeping form. His feet carried him to her side of the bed, wood flooring groaning with each step. Fighting back his wolf, he bent down to place a gentle kiss to her furrowed brow. His lips smiled wider. A week and already she’d grown used to sleeping with his body heat warming her.
His nose brushed the top of her head, letting her silky strands caress his face. He ached for her, his body fighting him against leaving her. Clenching his jaw and curling his claws to dig into his palms, he forced himself to step back, to walk to the bedroom door without another glance or he’d never leave.
Ella’s last message spurred him on even further. Soon, Abbigail would be too far in her pregnancy to travel. He had to get his pup back, or he risked losing her forever. He’d lost enough family and so had Greta. Together, they’d heal, rebuild, and grow. That couldn’t happen without Abbigail.