Page 33 of The Dire Legacy

“Well. That answers that question. Thanks, big guy.” It quells some of the nervousness, but not all of it.

Michael pushes a few sticks into the ashes of the campfire to rekindle a small flame. It doesn’t take long before I have a hot cup of joe between my palms.

Delicious.

His ears swivel toward me, then flatten.

“What? You don’t like it? I’ll take it.” I savor another scalding sip. So good.

He shakes his head, his dark hair falling across his eyes as he stares at his cup. “No, it’s good. That noise you made just caught me off guard.”

It takes me a second to get what he’s referring to.

“You’ve never heard a girl moan before? You poor, deprived boy.” I guess growing up in a prison wasn’t a lie. I wouldn’t have guessed he’s not been with someone though.

Tall, good looking, and those eyes? He’d have anyone tripping over themselves to crawl up his muscular body.

I’m having a hard time not stumbling.

His jaw clenches and he starts kicking dirt into the fire. “The food here is about gone for the pack, so it’s time to get moving. Have you decided where you’re going?” He doesn’t look at me, but his face is pale.

Did I make him mad? This guy is a puzzle.

And, I’m intrigued.

“No plans. Just not back to where I came from. What’s your destination?” Damn, my cup is almost empty.

“Lucky scouted out a place a while back that could be set up to be pretty self-sufficient. It’s on the far side of this lake.” He puts the lids back on the totes in the trailer and starts zipping up the duffle bags.

Um. This is awkward. I don’t really know what to do. My only thoughts were ever to just get away from my captors. “So, you’re just gonna live in the woods forever?”

“It’s a good spot for me,” he grumbles, almost to himself.

His glance pauses on me before he looks out over the water. “You’re welcome to travel with us until you find greener pastures. You’ll be safe with the pack until you decide what you want to do.”

Alpha is so freaking tall when he’s on his hind legs like that. It’s a bit disconcerting.

The armful of dismembered body parts should be more off putting than it is.

It seems fitting they’ll end up as dog shit.

I never want to go back there.

“So, you don’t want bigger and better things? What would you want, Mikey, if you could have anything?” I need to know if he’s going to sell me out.

His hands tighten into fists, the leather of his gloves squeaking with tension.

The cords of his neck stand out at the strain and I can see his pulse frantically beating beneath the skin.

A visual metronome of the moments as they tick by. Flickers of rage and agony pass fleetingly until he drops his palms to his sides. His sigh raises and lowers his knotted shoulders and he looks to the treetops.

I could watch his Adam’s apple work in his throat all day.

“If I could have anything, it would be to not hurt the people I care about.” He rearranges a lower leg to sit in a neat stack before letting out a low whistle.

Two of the dogs appear from the trees and dive into the harnesses attached to the front of the cart.

I’m still perplexed by his answer. It doesn’t sound like material things.

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