Page 39 of Wolf Tamer

She’s not fine, and I know there’s so much more she’s not telling me. Those things I had to say got to her. They slid under her skin and lodged there. Focusing, I attempt to push back the receding emotions from the rest of my wolves and focus on her alone. She’s the bright spot in my life, the single point of light that acts as an anchor for everything else.

I’d known when she was in trouble after my fight with Crane and Emily, had enough of a gut urging to get me out of bed and running toward her. So why didn’t I sense the same thing downstairs?

Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to in that moment. I was too wrapped up in the ruse and the power floating to my head to notice.

I want to punch myself square in the face. Better yet, I should let her take the branch to me for some much-deserved retribution.

I’m sure she’d oblige too—if the guilt I’m feeling doesn’t kill me first.

She has to know I meant nothing by those words. It’s an act I have to put on for the rest of the pack to show them that I’m strong. As long as I can keep my position, I’ll be able to help her. If I slip even an inch, then I’m risking both of our necks in the process.

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” she’s telling me. She draws the sheet up to cover her naked breasts, and I’m instantly upset by having them taken away from me.

I stare at her with a single brow lifted and a mess of emotions wreaking havoc with my insides.

No sleep the night before.

Constant stress.

My injuries taking a long-ass fucking time to heal, and my people constantly battering at me, wanting answers.

Having to keep up a facade is exhausting business.

“What matters is that someone tipped off the coven about the truth of my failure in executing you,” she finishes. Tossing a poignant look over her shoulder at me, she shifts until she stands and moves slowly into the bathroom.

“Oh?” I call out after her.

“Yes, which means you still have a mole in your midst. That’s what is important. Not these wounds that hopefully won’t scar.”

Her voice is as much of a whip as the branch I used on her earlier.

“You won’t scar,” I growl out.I’ll make sure of it. “And I thought we established that Emily and Crane were the moles? One of whom is already dead, and the other I plan to deal with immediately.”

“Did we determine that?” Tasha calls out from the other room.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.Shit. Now I can’t remember what we’ve talked about. I’m losing my mind.

“If they’re not, then we have a much larger problem than we first thought. And I guarantee your witch friends won’t take what I’ve done lightly.” My knees feel weak as I drop down on the edge of the bed and hang my head between them in an attempt to catch my breath. “I’ve basically committed an act of treason against them.”

The treaty in place states that the wolves of the Redcliff Pack never attack the Buson Coven, directly or indirectly. In return, they send us a yearly sacrifice to provide us with the magic we need for protection from other shifters. One hand washes the other, and it’s worked out, even if it means the death of one of their own.

The deaths are not always pleasant, especially when Edmund Holden was alpha. If he hadn’t used the sacrifice as a playtoy in bed, then he’d delighted in wringing them dry of their magic before tossing them into the cells in our basement—never an easy or swift end.

Yet, by rescuing Tasha and killing a few of the witches who had stood in my way, I violated the treaty. I am the only one responsible here.

What other choice did I have?

I’m lucky I got to her in time before the Buson Coven did something incomprehensible. I know for certain this life isn’t worth living without Tasha, and it’s a good thing I haven’t told her that. She thinks the bullshit I had to say in front of the pack was bad? She’d hate me then. For real.

“We’re going to have to discuss the possibility of increasing our magical protection to anticipate their retaliation,” I say loudly when she remains silent. “From all sides. It pays to be prepared. While we figure out a way to…” I wait a beat for her answer, but nothing comes. “Tasha?”

The silence worries me, and when I cross the threshold into the bathroom, I find it empty and the window open a crack, letting in a biting breeze.

“Fuck!”

My fist beats against the wood hard enough to crack it, and I’m out the door a heartbeat later, running to catch up with her.

Of course.Of courseshe took advantage of the fact that I brought her to my room. There are no bars on my windows. It’s a free shot down the trellis toward the porch and into the woods from there.

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