Page 40 of Pack Kasen: Part 2

Tagge.

“The Wolf Lord of Lake Prairie had a daughter,” Tagge says proudly. “I knew I’d?—”

The world twists, darkens, as the ground rears up to punch me in the face.

And then…

Nothing.

12

AREN

Even with Tagge’s help, we take nearly two hours to build the bed frame.

The rumble of an unfamiliar car comes when I’m finishing up making the bed with new sheets after thanking Tagge and telling him I can do the rest on my own.

I don’t want his scent on the sheets. Just mine and Kat’s.

I frown as I push open the front door, my gaze bouncing between Kat and Patric, the Wolf Lord of Lake Prairie, another uninvited guest.

Tagge puffs out his chest, proudly announcing, “The Wolf Lord of Lake Prairie had a daughter. I knew I’d?—”

Kat slumps to the ground.

I leap off the decking, catching her before Patric and Finan can move.

“Say another word, and I will tear you apart,” I snarl at Tagge.

And I march into the house with Kat in my arms, my pack spilling out of the den, the living room, and the dining room, visibly concerned.

“Is she okay?” Marta calls out.

“She will be.” I take the stairs up to our room three at a time, holding Kat tight against my chest.

I heard what Tagge said downstairs, and I’ll deal with what it means for Kat—and us—when I know she’s okay.

Right now, the only thing that matters is ensuring she’s okay.

I close the door behind me, conscious it’s unlikely to stay closed for long if Patric is who Tagge said she is. Gently, I slide Kat into the freshly made bed and pull the covers over her.

Then I take a seat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her face, her long, dark lashes forming crescents on her pale cheeks.

I reach out to touch her, then halt, my fingers inches from her soft-looking skin.

Curling my hand into a fist, I lower it to my side.

Catching her when she fell was one thing. That was to stop her from hurting herself.

But touching her like this when I know she wouldn’t want me to is another thing entirely.

I’ll watch over her as she sleeps. That’s it.

It’s only when she’s asleep like this, still and quiet, that it hits me how small she is. How fragile. And how much I need her to be safe.

Her eyelashes flutter, and she stirs. “Aren?”

My hand is smoothing back the dark chestnut strands from her face before I knew I was going to touch her. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

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