You have to be there for her. Give her something to hold on to, be her anchor. Don’t you let her leave us.” The healer’s voice thickened with tears. “Thomas and I are arranging a charter.” Mason had said nothing about their senior healer coming, but he might not be willing to risk both. Owen wanted Emma here.
He wanted Emma to fix it. So he didn’t argue. “I won’t let her go.” It was the only promise he had to give. They’d disconnected the call, and Brett’s phone rang again. Mason . His Alpha wanted to speak to the Hudson River Alpha, so Owen focused on Gillian.
The other wolves gave them space, though more crowded in the area. He could hear them. Smell them. His wolf paced restlessly inside him. They were too exposed. Too many others they didn’t know—too many threats. She’d given into delirium. After ripping out his heart with her accusation that he didn’t care, she’d lapsed into a near peaceful state of sleep interrupted only by low moaning. If not for his focused attention, he might have missed the slow, but steady beat of her heart. The rise and fall of her chest.
At Emma’s direction, he’d stripped off his clothes, changed into fresh and worn gloves to do the same for Gillian. He’d seen her naked before, wolves didn’t put much stock in nudity. Yet stripping her while she’d been vulnerable and unaware proved disconcerting. He hated the separation from skin contact the gloves imposed, but Emma had insisted. Until the poison was out of Gillian’s system, skin contact had to be a no go.
Hell for a wolf. They needed contact. So he kept a gloved hand on her, held her hand, cupped her cheek—anything to let her know he was here. A sound at the door and Owen shifted slightly, a hammer in his hand. He could throw it with deadly accuracy, and it would serve well as a first blow toward any potential attacker.
“It’s me,” Brett announced even as his scent drifted into the room. He waited a heartbeat before entering fully, a courtesy Owen hadn’t precisely earned. With him came two large bags. “I brought food.”
Chicken, hamburgers, and tacos if Owen’s nose could be trusted.
“I’m not hungry.” Not exactly gratitude, but Owen set the hammer down and refocused on Gillian. The stillness made him crazy. He’d thought it would be an improvement over the thrashing and moaning, but it wasn’t.
It was worse.
“Take this in the spirit it’s intended, Chase.” Brett’s voice deepened, and the feel of Alpha permeated the room. He wasn’t Owen’s Alpha, but the fact hardly diminished the effect. “Bullshit. You need to eat so you can continue to take care of her. It’s been hours, and she hasn’t worsened.”
Owen dragged his attention from Gillian and scowled at the Alpha. “Don’t presume to give me orders.”
“So, stop being a jackass.” He crossed the room and set the bags down next to Owen, then dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Mason’s fucking pissed. I’m fucking pissed. You’re fucking pissed. In this, we’re three united toward a common goal.”
Despite shrugging his shoulder, Owen didn’t dislodge the Alpha’s grip.
“That common goal is catching the bastard hurting my wolves—and who hurt her.”
“Let go of me.” Owen growled. He was holding his shit together, and he would continue to hold it together. What he didn’t need was some kind of foreign pack interference.
“No.” Flat. Implacable. Unyielding. “I promised Mason I would return his wolves to him healthy and whole. I already failed where she was concerned, but we will see her through this. The way to do that is for you to eat.” Brett slapped the bags of food to Owen’s chest. “I will keep watch so that you can eat.”
The Alpha released him then took a position near the door and leaned on the wall, arms folded. Owen grimaced. The longer he scented the food the hungrier he grew, but the last thing he should have was respite while Gillian still slept.
Owen squeezed
He wanted Emma to fix it. So he didn’t argue. “I won’t let her go.” It was the only promise he had to give. They’d disconnected the call, and Brett’s phone rang again. Mason . His Alpha wanted to speak to the Hudson River Alpha, so Owen focused on Gillian.
The other wolves gave them space, though more crowded in the area. He could hear them. Smell them. His wolf paced restlessly inside him. They were too exposed. Too many others they didn’t know—too many threats. She’d given into delirium. After ripping out his heart with her accusation that he didn’t care, she’d lapsed into a near peaceful state of sleep interrupted only by low moaning. If not for his focused attention, he might have missed the slow, but steady beat of her heart. The rise and fall of her chest.
At Emma’s direction, he’d stripped off his clothes, changed into fresh and worn gloves to do the same for Gillian. He’d seen her naked before, wolves didn’t put much stock in nudity. Yet stripping her while she’d been vulnerable and unaware proved disconcerting. He hated the separation from skin contact the gloves imposed, but Emma had insisted. Until the poison was out of Gillian’s system, skin contact had to be a no go.
Hell for a wolf. They needed contact. So he kept a gloved hand on her, held her hand, cupped her cheek—anything to let her know he was here. A sound at the door and Owen shifted slightly, a hammer in his hand. He could throw it with deadly accuracy, and it would serve well as a first blow toward any potential attacker.
“It’s me,” Brett announced even as his scent drifted into the room. He waited a heartbeat before entering fully, a courtesy Owen hadn’t precisely earned. With him came two large bags. “I brought food.”
Chicken, hamburgers, and tacos if Owen’s nose could be trusted.
“I’m not hungry.” Not exactly gratitude, but Owen set the hammer down and refocused on Gillian. The stillness made him crazy. He’d thought it would be an improvement over the thrashing and moaning, but it wasn’t.
It was worse.
“Take this in the spirit it’s intended, Chase.” Brett’s voice deepened, and the feel of Alpha permeated the room. He wasn’t Owen’s Alpha, but the fact hardly diminished the effect. “Bullshit. You need to eat so you can continue to take care of her. It’s been hours, and she hasn’t worsened.”
Owen dragged his attention from Gillian and scowled at the Alpha. “Don’t presume to give me orders.”
“So, stop being a jackass.” He crossed the room and set the bags down next to Owen, then dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Mason’s fucking pissed. I’m fucking pissed. You’re fucking pissed. In this, we’re three united toward a common goal.”
Despite shrugging his shoulder, Owen didn’t dislodge the Alpha’s grip.
“That common goal is catching the bastard hurting my wolves—and who hurt her.”
“Let go of me.” Owen growled. He was holding his shit together, and he would continue to hold it together. What he didn’t need was some kind of foreign pack interference.
“No.” Flat. Implacable. Unyielding. “I promised Mason I would return his wolves to him healthy and whole. I already failed where she was concerned, but we will see her through this. The way to do that is for you to eat.” Brett slapped the bags of food to Owen’s chest. “I will keep watch so that you can eat.”
The Alpha released him then took a position near the door and leaned on the wall, arms folded. Owen grimaced. The longer he scented the food the hungrier he grew, but the last thing he should have was respite while Gillian still slept.
Owen squeezed
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