Page 10 of Mated Exile

"Show me," Roarke says, authority in his tone of voice.

I'd like to resist, but it's hard to do so when he speaks so calmly and straightforwardly. It gentles the wolf inside me even as I grimace. Reaching down, I grab onto the splint the doctors put on my leg and tear it away with little effort.

Beneath, a raised scar marks the spot where the bone pushed through my brown skin, its edges dark red and angry. Roarke leans down, grabs my calf, and lifts it towards him. I put my hand out to catch my weight against the table, uncomfortably aware of his warm grip against my skin. His blue eyes flick across me as he probes and pushes at the muscle and bone, a thoughtful frown beetling his eyebrows.

"It feels healed, but I don't know how you did it so quickly," he says. "Usually these things take a day or two to fix."

"I credit Cat's food for healing me." She winks at me, and I give her a flirtatious smile. "I'd mate that woman in the Mating Circle just to get more of that cooking."

"Oh, stop it!" she says in a tone that suggests she hopes Ineverstop. More seriously, she adds, "I just hope you boys are able to find her quickly."

"We will," I promise her.

Because I don't know that there's anything worth living for me if we don't.

Five

Roarke

My phone rings as we're getting ready to head out the door. We all freeze, and I reach into my jacket pocket with my heart in my throat. If it's Niall, and he's calling about finding a trail, I hope he has good news.

And not the kind of news that ends by burying the last of the Glass Pack line.

It isn't Niall's name on the caller ID. Instead, the contact comes up as "Roaring Rivers Alpha — John deLance." Shaking my head at the guys, I answer the call and walk to the other room, where at least Cat won't be able to overhear me.

"Hello?"

"Roarke Bell—it's John deLance. I trust you're doing well."

Far from it. If my wolf had his way, he'd be ripping out of my skin and tearing through the woods in desperate search for Delilah. The only thing stopping me is the ache in my gut, which hasn't yet fully healed, a wound I've kept from the others because I know they'll only worry.

In the awkward silence I tell him, "Well enough, considering everything."

"Right, of course." He chuckles, like the curse that's decimated our pack is nothing but a quaint little story, and I suppose to him it is. "I have some good news that should turn things around for you. I've spoken to our council, and we've agreed to your proposal. I tried calling Niall but he didn't pick up, so I figured I'd call you instead. We'll be there in two weeks."

Glancing into the other room, I consider how much the others have heard of this, and realize abruptly it doesn't matter. I'll have to tell them either way. "So it's done? You're ready to take over?"

"Yes. Contingent on surveying the land, of course. We've also hired a few of our local witches to bring with us—healers and charm-makers, of course, no one dangerous or serious. They want to look into this curse and see what they can discover."

Dozens of witches like that have looked at our land and shrugged their shoulders helplessly. The magic that infected it has dug too deep to be viewed by the kind of witch werewolves deal with, and any witch powerful enough to tell us more is too likely to be dark-side to invite into our territory.

Of course now that I know a wolf-witch hybrid is the one who made the curse, and it infected our very bonds at the deepest level, I also know that nothing short of a miracle will get rid of it. It's for the best, then, that a new alpha is willing to take over. Even if he's a fool who thinks a few charm-makers can untangle a centuries-old curse.

I hold my tongue and tell him, "The witches are welcome. I'd expect nothing less. See you in two weeks."

"Looking forward to it."

Once I've hung up the call, I slip into the guest bathroom and gingerly pull up the edge of my shirt. Hissing, I stare down at the four deep wounds that rake across me from my sternum to just beneath my belly button. They haven't healed yet, for some reason. I blame the wolf inside me, who has been unstable since the instant he realized Delilah was gone. That and the vampire venom that oozes at the edges of the wound.

There's nothing to be done for it, though—this is something human doctors can't fix—so I just grab a roll of gauze from the cabinet, wrap it tightly, and force myself to straighten up so none of the others will be able to see that I'm in pain.

Someone has to lead us into the unknown with a little bit of confidence. It shouldn't be me, but in two weeks, it won't have to be anymore. So I set my jaw, determined to keep the pack together, or at least this little corner of it, until it's no longer my concern at all.

The guys are all waiting for me when I walk back into the kitchen. There are questioning looks in their eyes—though based on the hard, stubborn edge in Lance's face, he knows what's coming next.

Resigned to the pushback, I tell them, "Another alpha is heading this way in time for the Summit. If all goes well, and I'mhopingit will, he'll take over."

"What!" Finn rounds on me, his eyes wide. "You're serious—you'reactuallydoing that? Even after everything?"

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