Page 57 of Faith and Fury

Already, I can scent Jaxon’s concern, sneaking yet another glance over her head. I smile softly.

“You know,” I say, “Jax is a lot like that, too. Can’t sit still, even when he needs rest.”

Jaxon’s expression darkens, but then he notices the way Faith angles her head. “Uh.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

Faith frowns. Then, as soon as her glass is dry, she puts it down, and grabs Jaxon’s wrist.

He starts. “Omega?”

She drags him out of the kitchen. I watch them go, my heart skipping a beat as she practically throws my packmate onto the couch. He stares up at her in shock.

Chuffing, Faith looks around for her notepad. Instead she tries to sign—her hands moving exaggeratedly.

“What’s that?” Jaxon asks. “Uh … sit? Stay?”

She rolls her eyes. Signs again.

I start to get an idea of what she’s saying, but I don’t intervene. I don’t even turn off the water, my eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

Faith makes the sign one more time, crossing her hands over her chest. Finally, Jaxon’s eyes light up.

“Rest,” he blurts out. “You want me to rest, omega?”

She heaves a sigh of relief.

His grins, pleased with himself. “I can do that. Under one condition.”

Faith’s eyes light up in shock as Jaxon grabs her by the waist, pulling her into his lap.

He purrs, “You gotta rest with me.”

Her breath hitches, appearing vaguely stunned—as if she can’t quite figure out how she ended up in this predicament.

It’s adorable.

Eventually, she gathers her bearings, and her teeth flash in warning … but she doesn’t try to escape. She just rolls her eyes again as he turns on the TV, surfing for the right channel.

The sink must be nearly overflowing by now. Even still, I can’t bear to look away.

A flicker of motion from the master bedroom catches my eye. I think I see Caleb, peering out through a crack in the door.

Just as captivated as I am.

***

The updates become fewer and bleaker in between. By Thursday night, both Faith and Caleb are at the end of their tethers.

Nothing! Faith signs—a word I’ve grown increasingly familiar with.

I put my hand on her thigh, encouraging her to have a drink from her water bottle. I made her promise she’d finish it off during the day—she’s been getting dehydrated—but it must’ve slipped her mind.

“Don’t give up,” I say, “you’ll get a lead, sooner or later.”

She makes an angry sign, then, at my helpless look, writes, SOONER.

I sigh.

Caleb meets us in the living room. He thrusts out his palm, holding a myriad of pills. “Take these,” he says sternly. “They’ll help.”

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