Page 8 of A Beta Protects

Which he can’t do unless he finds me. And if he finds me here…

My fingers clench in the comforter I’ve pulled up to my neck.

Dom never tried to hide his hatred of me. He sent me those postcards because my brother asked him to check in every now and again on his friend’s sister. That’s all. I’m a responsibility to Dom. A duty to a dead big brother.

That doesn’t mean I want Bryce to put a bullet between Dom’s eyes if he finds me here. Bryce never put his hand on me, more for fear someone might wonder about the bruises on the sheriff’s wife, but he has no reason to keep his hands off Dom.

I roll onto my back. It’s too dark in the room to see the ceiling, but I stare up at it anyway. “So you have to make sure he never finds you,” I breathe.

And if he finds me?

The attorney has that statement I signed. If I ever turned up dead, it will be because of Bryce.

Another howl rings out, drawing my gaze to the drapes in the darkened room.

The wolf sounds like he’s further away, which is a relief.

I close my eyes, no clearer about my plans for tomorrow or the day after, but for tonight, I have somewhere that isn’t a public restroom or a parking lot in a grocery store to rest my head.

I’m safe.

4

DOM

I’m sitting at the dining table across from Kira. I have no interest in eating breakfast because things are not right with my mate.

Her T-shirt is so damp, it’s sticking to her skin. The same T-shirt she was wearing last night.

“Did you sleep okay?” Sierra asks Kira.

Why is her T-shirt damp, and if she’s here for a couple of days, why didn’t she bring anything from her car to change into?

“Great, thanks.” Kira smiles at Sierra. “The howls made me a little nervous, but I guess as long as the wolves stay outside, there’s nothing to worry about, huh?”

Sierra’s smile freezes as Galen looks down at his breakfast.

Howls.

No one looks at me, but they all know it was me out there, my wolf laying claim—in a more vocal way than the man would have approved—to his mate.

Now Kira is afraid of said wolf and that wolf is me.

If Kira had any idea she was sharing a table with nine people who regularly turn into wolves, I’m not sure she’d be smiling the way she is.

In fact, I’m almost positive she’d be sprinting out of the door as fast as her pretty legs could carry her.

In Missouri, she was always smiling, always cheerful. Helpful. Back when I was pretending I had no interest in her, I spent more time than anyone would ever know subtly watching her.

She volunteered at every charitable event going, and she was one of the first to show up to help when a storm brought a tree down and it damaged the front of the grocery store.

Maybe she did it to help out. Maybe she was looking for an excuse—any excuse—to get away from Bryce. But she was always there smiling, in her long denim skirts, flashing her freckled ankles, in short sleeve blouses buttoned up to the neck and her hair in a braid down her back.

And that damned wedding ring I wanted to rip off her finger and fling into the sea, closely followed by, or preceded by, her deputy sheriff husband.

I watched her, wanting her, needing her, and when she aimed one of those sweet smiles my way, I’d leave soon after, pretending I didn’t see that smile dim.

Knowing I was responsible for dimming those smiles hurt, but the less interest I paid her, the less the husband seemed to care when I happened to be in the same place as Kira. Which was as often as I could make it happen.

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