Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Remy!”
I snap open my eyes, confused at my surroundings. Then, like all those years ago, I lock onto Cy’s concerned blue ones. His large palms cradle my face so tenderly I’m at a loss for words. Nothing about Cy is tender or gentle anymore. One of his thumbs swipes over a wet streak on my cheek. I’m trembling and slightly nauseous.
“It’s okay,” he rumbles. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
Humiliation chases away the fear of my memory, and I choke back more tears. Though I try hard not to think about what happened that night, it often comes back with a vengeance. I expect those words on repeat to lash at me just as they have since the beginning: Too weak, too small, too broken.
Instead, I hear a different word, loud and overpowering.
Mine.
For once, I don’t hate it or his overprotectiveness. I relax in his grip and cling to him like I did when I was a small boy on the brink of death and suffering from unimaginable loss.
Cyrus
What is wrong with me?
Guilt is almost as vicious as my wolf, gnawing at me like I’m a fucking bone with meat on it. I lost my mind when I grabbed him. There’s no other way to explain it. I just exploded.
Why would you beat him up like that? Because of me?
His words he’d signed to me haunt me. I can’t seem to shake off the chill of them. They just cling to my brain, the face behind his moving hands confused and angry, the images on repeat.
I just needed him to be quiet.
To not ask anymore.
Because if I had to answer him, I’d have to admit it to myself. I’m certainly not ready for that. I can barely understand it myself.
What had happened?
I’d been irrationally angry and agitated since discovering those bodies yesterday. Then learning of Wyatt and his brothers moving in only worsened things. Because of my own doing, I was forced to spend the entire day with Remy. With each passing second, the need to protect him became such a craving, my wolf was practically salivating to pin him down and hold him beneath me so nothing could look at him or touch him.
And then those motherfuckers showed up at the post.
Wyatt and Van and…Cash.
Cash is going to be a problem. I feel it every bit as much as I can feel the tethers from my pack to my bond. This feels wrong. An intrusion. A fucking infection.
He’s going to taint what’s mine.
I’m going to have to kill him.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to choke out, brows furrowed as I cup his face. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to…”
He gives a shake of his head. Since he’s not signing to me, I assume he doesn’t want to elaborate. It takes everything in me to release his face and drop my hands at my side.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
His hands lift as he signs out his response. I’m fine. Just… He pauses, his entire body flinching as his eyes glaze over.
I grip his jaw, tilting his head up so he’s forced to look into my eyes, not go wherever it is he’d been moments before. At least with his eyes on me they’re not so fucking sad and leaking devastated tears. I’m unable to stop the sweep of my thumb over his jaw. This time my hand slides to his throat, not to keep him at bay, but to inspect the damage I may have caused.
“This hurt?” I ask, my tone gruff as I rub my thumb over his scarred skin.
He shakes his head and bites down on his pink lip. I’ve never been so fixated on him before, and it’s alarming. I vaguely sense concern trickling through the bond from the others, but it’s muted as all focus is on Remy.
I have the urge to inspect every inch of him, hunting for bruises or cuts that need tending to. It’s disturbing considering it’s Remy. I can’t shake it, though. My eyes once again lock on to his dark ones. They flicker back and forth between confusion and curiosity—a ping pong match of emotions.
His palm touches the middle of my bare chest. My heart reacts with a racing gallop, thundering so loud, it’s as though it wants to deafen me. Small fingers that are often stained in ink from his writing gently press into my flesh, warm and so damn soft. The wolf in me wants to drag his palm to my face so I can scent him, so I can forever memorize the way he smells.
Why?
Because he’s mine.
The wolf agrees with a snuffle.
He’s part of my pack. They’re all mine. We’re a family.
Remy’s fingertips drift down between my pecs, drawing a strangled sound from my throat. It’s as though fire surges from him, scalding a pathway south. He stops his trail to just above my navel, and the wolf in me growls in annoyance.