No one says anything. They all wait for my decision. And why not? I’m an alpha too.
“Help me get him inside,” I say.
They all rush into action.
Chapter 7
Matt drove up here, presumably because if she had changed into a wolf, people would have known her secret. The only time I’ve seen her as a wolf was when I was running back to the house with Lindon after almost drowning, and neither me or Lindon were in a place to notice anything odd about her.
We load Lindon gently into the back of the car she took. Lots of strong hands keep him stabilized while we move him into the backseat.
I’ve never seen them all look at him with so much respect. I guess jumping in front of a fatal bullet was all it took for them to stop seeing him as only the spoilt son of Rowan and one of the men just trying to cheat and steal their chance at an alpha female.
It still stands that when I was in danger, he was the one in front of me, no one else.
Or at least that’s how I’m justifying it since from this moment on I don’t think I can look at anyone but Lindon.
If I ever did.
I just need to be patient. Let him come to the same conclusions I did. Let him get over what he needs to get over. I can wait. I waited twenty-eight years without even the hope of being with someone as wonderful as him. I can wait a little longer.
Or can I?
Hawes is driving very carefully and I’m turned around in the passenger’s seat monitoring Lindon. He’s breathing, but his skin is turning a pallid, greenish color, and his breaths are shallow. He’s not responding anymore either. It seems like the poison or whatever it was has gotten into his blood.
Of course, the more civilized we got, the more we would wander into science about how to kill each other better. Just shifters following in the path humanity set.
But what am I thinking? These are wolves who think it’s okay to fight to the death for a mate, so I doubt this bothers them as much as it bothers me.
Since it affects my future mate, it bothers me a great deal. I make note to look into this kind of thing. I have a great deal of money, right? And Rowan does too. If people like Jack can be doing science experiments on ways of hurting, couldn’t we figure out some new ways to help and heal our kind, as well?
Specifically, the female mortality rate seems to be worse than the males in a lot of cases. Definitely in Lindon’s pack, and I’m assuming if it were otherwise in other packs, there wouldn’t have been so many men signed up to come here and fight for me.
But I’m also just trying to keep my mind busy as I hold Lindon’s hand as we zoom down the curvy roads to the mansion. I’ve never been so grateful for the excellent suspension on a luxury car.
When we pull up out front, I look up the hill to see wolves looking out, wolves trailing down after us. One silver wolf raises his head and howls, and the rest follow.
For once, we feel like a pack, not just a bunch of people thrown together and told to get along.
Hawes reaches into the back and picks Lindon up in his arms, easily carrying his brother to the front door, which I open for him. His face is stern and resolute.
“You going to call your family?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says. “Though I’m dreading it. I was hoping to have good news.”
I look at Lindon as we walk up the stairs. He’s not bleeding anymore, at least actively, but things still look grim. “I’ll do my best to try and make sure there is good news in the end.”
“What can you do?” he asks, somewhat coldly. It’s the first time he’s been anything but pleasant with me, and he sighs and apologizes. “I’m sorry, I’m stressed. I shouldn’t have been sharp with you.”
I laugh. “Your sharp is blunt compared to Lindon.”
He smiles at me as I open the door to my room. “That could be true.” He sets him down on my bed. “Lock that door, okay? Don’t answer to anyone but me.”
“Why? Lock is gone, and Jack—”
“You never know,” he says, hand on the doorknob. “There could be another turncoat out there, and we wouldn’t know because they would be hiding because the others already outed themselves. Keep him safe for me, okay?” His sunset colored eyes are soft as they study Lindon’s prone form, laid out on the bed with one arm over his middle.
“I will.”
“And call if you need anything,” he says. “You got a phone?”
I nod and hand it to him, and he puts his number in. “I’ll just be talking to the family. I don’t want to bring too many of them here or they’ll bother him. Rowan would probably charge in and knock things over and create a ruckus and Rafe would probably just drive us all crazy with his ranting.”
I smile at him. “Maybe.”
“But I trust you, Misty. He was willing to die for you. Now you just have to see if he’s willing to live for you.” He smiles, leaving me with those very serious words, and leaves. The door closes with a click behind him and I rush to lock it.
Then I take a few steps backward. The room is quiet. Just Lindon wheezing lightly. I walk over to the bed, dreading what I’ll see.
His face is beautiful as usual, eyes closed in sleep. I sit on the side of the bed. I never expected him to be here with me like this. So helpless. I tuck him under the covers, worried that shock could set in if he’s too cold. Do shifters get shock?
I run to my bathroom, start the water running, and then grab a cloth and run it in the water, wringing it so it’s not dripping.
The least I can do is clean him up.
I run back to the bed, trying to tread softly so that he doesn’t wake. He needs to save his energy to fight whatever is running through his veins.
I sit beside him again and gently start wiping the blood off his abdomen. Thank heavens Lock at least seemed to have stopped his bleeding. He definitely prolonged Lindon’s life, but it’s up to us now to save it.
Mostly it’s up to Lindon. I can see his eyes moving behind his eyelids. He needs to get better so I can chew him out for being so reckless. Silly man was conflicted even as he was jumping into the face of certain death.
This man is frustrating, ridiculous, and more than a little infuriating. At the same time, that makes him perfect for me. I can handle him and things will never be boring.
Hawes and the others already checked for an exit wound. I couldn’t watch, so I turned away. But I roll Lindon over now to see how it’s healing. It’s mostly closed. Man, that’s amazing. I let him drop back onto his back gently, marveling at my strength at even being able to move him. I feel like needing to help him makes me stronger.
Tenderness rushes through me as I think of what he did. I’m trying to keep my mind from focusing on the blood, which could easily make me faint if I let it.
He really did that, for me. He didn’t even think about it. That’s just amazingly…hard to understand.
His abdomen is clean, and the wound still makes me wince, though the blood is congealed and it seems to be slowly closing. It looks a little better than when we left. Or maybe just looks a little better with most of the blood around it wiped up.
I take the washcloth to the bathroom to rinse out the blood and hear a cough from the bedroom. My heart stutters and I turn to see Lindon trying to sit up. His head barely raises and he falls back, coughing.
I drop what I’m holding and rush back to the bed. His face looks greener.
He touches his side lightly, looks down, and then his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out again. Which is honestly best right now, probably. I shake my head, trying to calm my heart, and go back to the bathroom for another washcloth. This one I soak in cool water and take back to place on his head, in case he has a fever.
I press a hand to his head, and it’s burning, so I put the cold washcloth there. Not that it’ll do much, but hopefully it’ll feel good.
Then I get onto the bed with him and wait. It’s all I can do. I snuggle up beside him under the covers, hoping he can feel me against h
im. Hoping it won’t make him mad.
I don’t know if he’s still upset with me. Maybe he’ll go back to saying mean things the second he wakes up. It’s easy for me to say I can deal, but then thinking of it actually happening makes a shudder of dread go through me. Oh well, as long as he wakes up.
I kiss the side of his head, gently. “Wake up, Lindon, please.”
His eyes flutter open and look at me, pain clear in their golden depths.
“I meant someday. Or in the morning. Not now, you need to rest.”
“Picky picky,” he mutters, closing his eyes again.
“Would you do anything I ask?” I tease, because he’s looking slightly less green now. Maybe the worst of it is over.
“Did Lock…put blood on me?”
I bite my lip, wondering if he’s well enough to hear the truth. A part of me is still waiting for him to pass out again. He stays back against the pillows this time and takes a slow, deep breath.
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller,” he says quietly. His first sentence without any large pauses. My heart jumps at that, but I won’t rejoice completely until his face isn’t green anymore, till there is color in his lips again. “Actually, I think I’m going to pass out again. Misty, I don’t know if I’ll make it. I’m fighting tho—”
And then he’s out. I put a hand up to stifle a laugh that also sounds like a cry, and watch to make sure he’s still breathing. I lean on him, being careful not to disturb his wound, and rest my head on his chest lightly.
“I’ll stay with you all night,” I say quietly. “I’ll stay as long as you need. Don’t leave me. If you leave me, I’m doomed.”
The words echo through me and horror surges. Sylvester’s words in Lindon’s book. Maybe I should read it to him now, remind him of the pain Ava’s death caused him, beg him not to do that to me now.
“Oh Lindon, I get how you feel now. I forgive you for anything you’ve done, for all the future screw-ups. I even forgive you if you don’t want me. Just come back and be okay. And find someone to love.”
I run a hand over his. “That book can’t be the end of your story.” Tears fall as I lapse into silence.
We stay like that for a few hours, with Hawes checking in intermittently but keeping everyone else away. I monitor every change in breath, every quake or shudder or moan. Each minute contains a century of anticipation and pain.
This man could devastate me.
And then he makes a little choking noise. It startles me and I sit up and look down at him. His head thrashes slightly side to side, and his jaw is locked, with little gurgling noises coming from him that frankly terrify me. I look down at his side, the wound is weeping. I take the cloth from his forehead and place it over it.
“No, Lindon, fight,” I say. He makes a shuddery little wheeze and then stops breathing. I wait a few seconds to make sure. The only sound is my own heart thumping in my ears, and my mind hoping it remembers its CPR training from school.
I jump into action, tilting Lindon’s head back and opening his mouth to listen for breath. I then blow in, to see if the airway is blocked. It’s not, he’s just not breathing.
“No,” I say, hitting the bed. I climb onto it and straddle him on the bed, balancing on my knees, and lean forward to take his pulse. Still beating, faintly.
“Damnit, no quitting. You’re not a quitter, Lindon. Don’t you DARE do what Ava did to you, do you hear me? It’s one thing for her to do it, but you know how it feels. So you can’t, do you hear me? You can’t.” I give him a few more breaths and then collapse beside him, careful not to put my weight on him.
“I love you,” I gasp out. “I know that’s crazy, but I do. I would have died for you, so it’s not fair if you get to die for me. We should have talked about it. But we were never that great at talking. Come back to life so I can kick your ass for trying to leave me.”
I give myself a second or two more of pity, and then get up to do more rescue breaths. He still has a pulse, so there’s hope. Then, on a long breath, a huge cough and wheezing sound, his lungs draw in air.
I don’t know what caused it, or if I even helped, or if his body just decided to breathe again. Whatever it was, I thank heaven for it and slump back down in my place on the bed to try not to go into shock myself.
I listen to the rise and fall of his chest, enjoy his scent, relish the sound of his breathing. If anything it sounds more steady than before the cessation.
I breathe a sigh of relief and look at the clock. Morning in just a few hours. Will he be better then?
Gosh, I hope so. My heart can’t take much more of this.
Chapter 8
Morning creeps forward, showering bright sunlight over my tired, aching body. I put a hand up to shield my face as I look outside and see sun sparkling over the trees and grass.
My eyes flip to Lindon. I’ve been watching him all night and never fell asleep at all. I owe it to him for taking the shot for me. I doubt I could have been strong enough to have survived it, considering how low tolerance I have for staying in wolf form. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with that, but he transformed back to human almost instantly after being shot. So it was bad.
I’m sitting there by the side of the bed, leaning over on it, when his eyes flutter and open, long lashes blinking blearily. The whites of his eyes can’t really be called white.
“Misty?” he croaks, pushing himself to a sitting position. “What…what happened?”
I sit up and resist the urge to hug him. To take him in my arms and assure myself he’s all right. What does he last remember? Our fight? Anything?
“Um…what’s the last thing you remember?” I ask.
He puts a hand to his head and tries to sit back against the headboard. I reach out to help him but he stops me with a shaking hand. “I…okay…it’s fuzzy but I remember…a gunshot.” His golden eyes go wide and his breathing increases. “You…had to get to you.”
I fight down a flush. Will he be angry?
He calms his breathing as he studies me intently. What’s he thinking in that big, frustrating brain of his?
“You’re okay,” he gasps out. “Thank heavens.”
I laugh dryly and eye him back. He’s still so pale, and his hands and one leg seem to be twitching here and there. When he sees what I’m looking at, he shakes his head gently.
“No, just hungry, I think. Don’t worry.” He puts a hand to his forehead and rests against it. “I think I’m through the worst of it. I feel like I got hit by a bus, though.”
“A bullet isn’t far from that,” I say quietly.
He nods. “But I made it. How? They were coated with some kind of poison, Jack had the notes in his bag.”
“Ah, so you knew you would die?”
He doesn’t answer, just lifts his shirt slowly, with a grimace, and looks down at the nearly healed wound, the puckered, red skin. “What happened to me?”
I bite my lip. Should I go get Hawes? It was his idea. No, it was all of us agreeing on it. It was his only chance. “It was Lock. His alpha power is healing quickly. He…” I bite down on my lip again, I can’t say it.
“Bled on me?” he asks quietly, pressing his lips into a firm line. “Interesting. I’ll have to thank him later. After I beat his ass for taking you.”
I sit up a little. “You don’t think the blood thing is gross?”
“No,” he says. “It probably saved my life. And shifter science fascinates me.”
“Is there anything that doesn’t fascinate you?” I joke, feeling the dryness in my throat and the tiredness in my body from not sleeping.
“So what happened until I got there? Did Lock…” His jaw tightens. “Do anything to you?”
My face warms again. “No. I mean, he tried.”
Lindon lets out a low growl and I put a hand up. He should save his strength for more important things than overprotective shows of aggression. Sexy though they may be.
“He didn’t achieve it. I got him in the
groin. Hard.”
He sighs in relief and relaxes against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling as if to thank it for his good fortune. “Wait, in the groin? How did you do that?”
I smile slightly. “I um…waited for a good opportunity.”
“Wow, you blow me away, you know that? You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known. You use donuts as bookmarks and hit men in the groin after tricking them. I continue to be impressed.”
I look down at my hands, pleased at the praise but still uncertain where we stand now that he’s awake. When he was unconscious it was just me alone with my feelings, and I knew what I wanted. But with him awake now, it’s setting in that there are two of us who will have to make a decision.
And if I know anything about Lindon at this point, it’s that I never know what to expect. One would think jumping in front of a gun would mean he’d finally faced his issues about me. But then again, I’m half expecting him to come out swinging and push me away again. Once he’s strong enough to. I’ll deal with that when it comes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, folding his arms carefully and wincing slightly.
“Nothing,” I say. “Let me get you some water, you must be really dry.”
He coughs. “Yeah. What about you? How are you doing?”
“I wasn’t shot,” I point out, grabbing a cup from the cupboard above the counter and filling it with cold water. I carry it back carefully and hold it out toward him.
He puts out a hand. “You first.”
“What?” I ask.
“You first. Drink it up and go get me another one. You look like hell.”
I put a hand through my hair, which is in disarray, half in and half out of a ponytail, dark curls in every direction. “Thanks, asshole,” I mutter.
“No, I mean…” He frowns. “Just drink some water, will you? I told you I’d need some free passes.”
I shake my head and down the water, then stomp back to the bathroom for a new cup and begin filling it.
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