Page 23 of Mated Exile

I don't know what to say to that. No man has ever held me this way, so sweetly, or brushed his lips against the shell of my ear with a softness that sends heat traveling straight through me. Even as he does it, though, I feel tension behind me, and I step forward just in time to hear the low thrum of a growl in in the air. Swallowing, I admit that Cat was probably right—whatever is brewing here, between me and these four guys who are friends but sometimes not, they haven't fully talked about it. Which means I'm going to have to, before one of them winds up with something more serious than a half-healed broken leg.

Finn, of course, is just smirking merrily through all the tension. As if it isn't even happening. He lets me step away from him, but keeps his hand against my lower waist, loose but present.

"Admit it," he says, "you saved the best for last."

Scowling up at him, I point out, "You're going to have to rest up and heal that leg."

"There are things I can do that don't require putting all my weight on my legs."

This time thereisan actual growl, and I swear Finn is looking at me like he might eat me up. My skin must be blushing scarlet, because the night air is doing nothing to keep the heat from my cheeks.

"Don't look at me like that—we both know nothing can happen between the two of us. Not as long as this curse is threatening everything."

"I wouldn't call itnothing, Dollface." He waggles his brows. "But I'll refrain from looking at you as much as I'm able. I confess, it'll be a hard task to pull off. All I've thought of for the past twenty-four hours is how badly I want to be able to look at you as much as I'd like."

There's nothing I can say to that without risking bloodshed. Clearing my throat, I turn around to face everyone: Cat, hanging near the pickup truck with an amused eye on us, Niall standing with his keys in his hands, Bastian looking confused and misplaced, Kieran staring at his feet with a sad look on his face, Lance standing stoically to the side yet missing nothing, and Roarke in the center of it all, like a locus they all point directly towards.

Wearily, I announce, "We should go inside. I have to tell you all where I've been all day—not that it's terribly exciting. And we need to find some clothes for Bastian, and a place for him to stay. I was thinking he could sleep upstairs for tonight."

Bastian says softly, "Thank you for the offer. I don't want to be trouble."

"You saved me. It's the least I can do." Turning to Niall, I tell him, "You don't have to stick around for this. I know you've probably been out all day, and there's not much to tell that you can't already figure out."

"Actually." Niall clears his throat, the keys swinging back and forth on his fingers, like he's nervously thinking about things. "Roarke told me about your father's journal entry. The one you found."

"Yes." I stare him down, wondering what he's getting at. Swallowing, I dare to ask, "Did you know? About the chip, the curse—everything?"

His brows draw together unhappily. "I knew a few things, yes."

"So you kneweverything." Anger gets its claws in me, and I step away from Finn, striding up to Niall to stare him down. "You knew all along that there was no reason to exile me. I could've been toldeverything—we could've been told what was going on! It was the least the pack deserved, the least I deserved from my father, much less you. How could you do it, Niall? And why?"

Niall's face is solemn and grave, but weary. In a low voice he says, "I may have known everything, in its own time, as your father told me. Long before you knew about the curse, I knew about it, and all the things he did to try to avert its destruction.

"But youdon'tknow everything, Delilah," he says, as I take in a sharp breath to yell at him some more. "There's so much more you should know before you go off half-cocked into the world. And I'm thinking, now that you've figured some of it out, and got that chip removed, it's time for you to learn all of it."

My anger dissipates below a wave of trepidation. "All of it?"

"The whole truth," he says simply, quiet and to-the-point as always. "About your father. And your mother."

Eleven

Delilah

My mind isn't in the right place to process whatever it is Niall needs to say. Thankfully there are other things that have to get done. We head into the house, where Cat warms up the oven to cook a lasagna, Roarke makes Finn sit down so he can get checked over, Lance heads to my dad's room to grab some clothes for Bastian, and Kieran brews coffee, dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Bastian stares at me, clearly unsure where to go, so I snag his wrist. "Come with me. We'll get you cleaned up."

I can feel the others' eyes on me, but the big werewolf is like a lost puppy. There's nothing sexual about it, I tell myself as I drag him to my bedroom and shut the door. He sits gingerly on my bed, eyes wide, confusion in their amber depths.

Taking a deep breath, he murmurs, "I'd forgotten what it's like out here."

I stare at him as I grab an old hairbrush and comb set from my bathroom. "Out here?"

"The real world." He points at the ceiling. "It's so bright."

It hadn't occurred to me how tough he would find it to acclimate again after so long. Sympathetic, I hand him the brush, and he stares at it without comprehension.

"For your hair." Picking up a hunk of its black length, I point out, "It needs some work. Unless you want to cut it?"

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