Page 88 of What a Wolf Demands

Saliva pooled in her mouth. Sweat dampened her hairline.

Too close. Too hot.

She couldn’t breathe.

Dimly, she heard the rumble of Max’s voice, followed by Dom’s deep and even response.

So they weren’t yelling. That had to be good, right? The edges of her vision darkened. Her stomach pitched.

Oh yeah. Gonna puke.

She fumbled for her seat belt.

“Lily!” Dom slowed the car.

“Sorry,” she heard herself mumble. “Need to stop.”

Dom threw the car in park.

She opened the door and half slid, half fell out—

—right into Dom’s arms. Somewhere in her muddled, dizzy mind she marveled at how fast he moved.

“Gotcha,” he said. “Sit down, baby.”

She did. Plunked her ass right on the edge of the road.

He guided her head down, until it was between her knees.

“Deep breaths,” he said, gathering her hair and pulling it away from her face.

Wind buffeted her, sending the smell of new grass and clean air under her nose. The gust teased at her hair, cooling the sweat at her temples. She stared at the thick grass between her knees, the blades an astonishing shade of green. Since they’d landed in upstate New York, everything seemed sharper. Clearer. The bayou was a hazy, heavy place. The New York Territory was like another world.

Dom rubbed low, firm circles into her lower back. “Deep breaths, sweetheart.”

She did as he said, drawing in lungfuls of air. Slowly, the whine in her ears faded. The nausea receded. She lifted her head.

Dom shifted position so he was crouched in front of her, his blue eyes concerned. He smoothed his hands over her cheeks. “Better?”

“Yes.”

“You had a panic attack.”

A what?

He must have seen her confusion. “Remy’s wife, Sophie, has them. Well, used to have them. I recognized the signs.”

The wind blew even harder, and she had to hold her hair away from her face. “That’s never happened to me before, and I’ve been in some pretty tense situations.” Which was an understatement, considering everything that had happened since the night Charlie died.

“According to Sophie, panic attacks can spring out of nowhere. They can also come from residual trauma. She had them for months after she left her ex-husband.”

Lily had heard about Sophie, of course. Wolves in the bar had gossiped about the Pennsylvania Alpha’s daughter running away from her arranged marriage—and right into Remy Arsenault’s arms. Plenty of eyebrows had been raised at that development. Considering Remy’s reputation, no one had expected their romance to last.

Bar patrons had talked endlessly about the political fallout from Sophie’s actions, but no one had ever bothered wondering why she’d taken such a drastic step. If she’d suffered panic attacks, her marriage couldn’t have been a happy one.

Lily’s heart squeezed. She looked at Dom. “Is Sophie okay now?”

He brushed a thumb over her lower lip. “More than okay. She’s strong, and she has a good man to love her. The same as you.”

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