Page 8 of Mated Exile

Roarke says gently, "I get that. But—"

"Do you?" Kieran raises his gaze, his eyes suddenly challenging, his back straightening as he stares his best friend down for the first time in a long while. "I think youbelievethat you get it, but you don't. Did you know that after Tara died, they had to sedate me to get me to sleep? Or that the doctors in the clinic prescribed me ten times the normal amount of morphine, because it was the only way to get my heartbeat and blood pressure stable—that's how bad the pain was? Not some phantom pain in my head, or a something I'd created, butactualpain that registered in my vitals."

Paling a little, Roarke admits, "I didn't know that. I knew it took them months, and that you were in shock, but... I thought that just meant what we were all feeling."

"No." Shaking his head, Kieran lets loose a bitter and humorless laugh, while my heart sinks to my stomach. "I was in the kind of shock they normally only see in trauma victims, like people who have lost a limb, or experienced extreme hypothermia. They didn't know what to do with me, so they pumped me full of drugs until it went away. Then after they discharged me, I was given a bottle with just ten pills, no refills, and told to deal with the rest on my own.

"You can say that you understand. Each of you can swear that being without a mate is the same for you as it is for me, but it isn't." He tells Finn and Roarke pointedly, "Neither one of you ever evenhada mate bond. Only Lance did, out of all of us, so maybe he has the experience from which to judge me. But not a single one of you opened your soul up wide in preparation for the Mating Ceremony, only for the person you'd opened up for to die right in front of you. I feltall of it.Every gasp, every splash of blood, all her pain. And it never stopped."

His words are like a slap to my face, the cruelty of the truth making me rock back in my chair until its legs wobble against the ground. I thought I understood what Kieran had been through, and as I glance at Finn, seeing his shame and embarrassment, I realize I'm not alone. In our pride and our certainty, we believed the pain and suffering Kieran still expressed had to be in his head, at least a little. I'd never even imagined it was justthatbad.

In a bitter voice, Kieran murmurs, "I only stop feeling that pain when I'm truly out of it, and these days, the venom is the only thing that does the job. But I know none of that excuses the danger I put Delilah in tonight. If she isn't okay... if they've done something to her... you don't have to worry about punishing me. I'll kill myself with my own bare hands if it comes to that."

"You shouldn't blame yourself." The confident, weary words are a shock coming from an unexpected mouth: Finn. We all stare at him, and he sighs. "Look, I don't approve of going into the woods and getting high all the time. I have to rag on you, Kieran—it's habit at this point, and clearly that's a bad thing, since Roarke is right, it hasn't helped anything. But as you were talking I kept thinking about what happened, and it's pretty obvious those vamps weren't all there by accident."

I frown at him, brows drawing together. "What do you mean?"

"Isn't it clear?" Finn gives a little shake of his head. "Hundreds of vampires were waiting in the woods just outside Delilah's house. They were there before Kieran arrived, many of them from opposing factions within their coven, or from separate covens entirely. There's no way they were all out there hunting or waiting for the chance to feed. What they wanted washer, from the very beginning."

His words make a certain sense, even though I hadn't thought it at the time, when all those glowing eyes appeared from the darkness. Finn continues grimly, "They were going to be out there the second she walked out into their territory, and she would have, eventually. We might not have even figured out where she'd gone or why; I know if she'd suddenly disappeared without warning, I probably would've assumed that she'd gone home to the human world. The only reason we were ever there to witness what happened and fight for her isbecauseKieran's nonsense led us out into the woods."

"We can still find her," I tell them, feeling determination lift my spirits. "As soon as the sun comes up, we'll go out searching for her trails. Maybe Niall and his group will have found something in the meantime, but if they haven't, I'm confident we'll be able to find her. And Finn is right—at least we know where to start looking, because we were there when she was taken."

After a long moment of this sinking in, Roarke murmurs, "Well, that's one way to look at it."

"It's the bright side," I point out. "About the only silver lining. We have this moment to fix things. Many people don't get that."

I know I didn't, the first time tragedy entered my life. If I could turn back time and fix anything, I would fixthat. Instead I have to look forward, though the runic tattoo on my wrist reminds me always of the pack I came from and the family I lost before I made my way here.

Four

Finn

Ihate being injured. It's not just the pain that gets to me, or that itching feeling that accompanies shifter healing. There's this sense of helplessness that gnaws at me when I can'tmakemy body do what I want it to do.

"You don't have to do that," I tell Cat for what feels like the fifth time as she scrambles up another plate of eggs for me. "I can just order delivery. Or hobble around on one leg and lean up against the counter while I cook for myself."

"Bullshit. You'd fall on your ass," she says bluntly, which makes me smirk a little. Of course she follows it up by adding, "And that'd be a terrible thing to happen to such a nice ass like yours."

She puts the eggs in front of me and raises a brow, hovering nearby to watch me eat them. I get the sense that it's less of a motherly instinct and more of a fascination on her part. No doubt I'm the first werewolf she's ever watched eat twelve slices of bacon, four toasted bagels, and three plates of eggs in a row.

The thing about being a werewolf is, it makes you hungry. Healing and shifting only add to that hunger. Most humans don't get that. I knowIdidn't get it until the day my stomach yawned open and demanded an entire fridge of food.

So I let her watch me eat as I shovel forkful after forkful of eggs into my mouth, dashing some hot sauce and shredded cheese on them for good measure. To accompany my meal, the sounds of hammering and cursing rise in volume from the front porch, as Roarke and Kieran quarrel over the door they're trying to patch back together. Lance is somewhere off to the side, supervising them with his calm demeanor.

As soon as my leg has set and is no longer tender, I plan on racing out that front door and finding Delilah. There's an ache in my chest that accompanies every frantic beat of my heart. Knowing she's out there, and that I can do nothing to help herright this instant,is too much to bear. But if I manage to heal up that'll all change—so I keep eating, hoping my stomach will turn all the food into energy to heal my wounds.

"You're going to find her," Cat says confidently, leaning up against the kitchen counter and watching me with those keen eyes of hers. "The other guys were all saying how great of a tracker you are. I'm sure you'll figure out what they've done with her."

If there's aherleft to find—and I have to believe there is, because the alternative is too gruesome to imagine. "I should've grabbed onto her when I had the chance and brought her back here to safety. I was too stupid and proud. I thought we had those vamps."

"Delilah wouldn't have appreciated being kept behind closed doors anyway." Cat shakes her head, fondness in her tone for her foster daughter, even as her eyes crease with worry. "She was always throwing herself into trouble headfirst, no matter what. Then she'd come home crying because some bully picked on her or a teacher scolded her. Now she could survive anything, I'm sure of it."

My ears prick up at the slice of Delilah's past offered by Cat, but she doesn't go into further detail. I'd love to ask more questions, but the truth is, I want the answers from another woman entirely. The sooner I can get Delilah to warm up to me and start opening up, the better I'll feel about this strange, unfamiliar yearning settling into my chest.

So I shovel the eggs in as fast as possible, barely chewing before I swallow. Then I pull my once-broken leg off the chair it's been resting on, grab the kitchen table for support, and stand up, resting most of my weight on my left leg instead of the right.

"You sure about that?" Cat asks dubiously, grabbing the pot of freshly brewed coffee. Outside, the dawn snakes across the horizon. "It was in multiple pieces just a few hours ago, from what little I saw, and trust me when I say I didn't look for long."

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