Page 139 of Hawke

I gritted my teeth, pulling Delilah into the crook of my arm, and gave her a searing kiss. Yips of laughter and “get a room” took over the cabin.

Delilah snorted, wincing when I accidentally moved her arm. I gently pulled away, holding her arm delicately and making sure not to harm it again.

“How do you see that?” I shook my head. “How did you know—”

“It’s like, I saw what you saw. A dream, but not. And when you opened your eyes, I knew my idea was really stupid. And I couldn’t leave you. But I still want to save that girl that saved me,”she added. “I also need to know more. More of this story. Why I died, why we didn’t make it. And will we make it now?”

A tear fell down her cheek.

I held her tighter, my own emotions bursting forth from my soul.

She would fucking make it because this was our second damn chance.

Journey continued to sit on the floor, on her knees, waiting patiently. The rest of the room waited as well. Anaki was like a damned golden retriever. He should have been a damned wolf, but I guess a golden dragon would have to do for him. He blinked repeatedly, shuffling closer until Tyr snarled loudly for him to back away.

“I have an idea of what our story may be.” I patted my leg. “But I would like to understand it from the priestess herself. And I think we would all benefit from it, don’t you all think?” I looked around the room.

Everyone nodded, taking places in various spots to get comfortable. Even Bram, who had taken it upon himself to wash the dried blood with the help of Beretta and Tajah.

Locke leaned by the doorway, speaking to Bear about packing away Shane’s body. Sizzle and a few others were ordered to gather the other bodies and ready them for burning.

The room was now smaller, more intimate, and the story would be passed along later during a debriefing meeting. It would be held when this whole damned ordeal was over so the rest of the brothers of the Iron Fang would understand the history of how second chances came to be.

Journey smiled and clapped her hands excitedly and then placed them prettily like a child on her lap. She looked toward her mate for his nod of approval, like she needed it.

He ate out of the palm of her hand.

“Okay, just know the joyous part of the story doesn’t come until the end of tonight,” Journey explained.

Chapter Forty-Two

Delilah

“Yougotthis.”Isqueezed Journey’s hand, which suddenly began shaking.

She was so sure of herself just moments ago, but now she reverted to the night I first met her when I entered Grim’s apartment. So unsure of herself, frightened and wary.

“Just talk to me and Hawke. Forget they are even here.”

Journey smiled gratefully, her hand resting on mine. I tried to ignore the bone protruding from my skin. My stomach churned at the sight of it, but I kept my gaze glued to Journey.

Hawke’s fingers lightly glided over my skin, as if afraid of the pain that might burst forth from beneath if he stopped. But the nerves were fragmented, broken by another, stronger force. I only felt the soft touches of warmth and tingles of the bond we shared.

“I don’t have a lot of detail, just what needs to be told,” Journey said. “But, the attempt to give shifters, all supernaturals, a second chance”—Journey looked to Tajah and Bram—“at mates had been tried a long time ago. But it ultimately failed.” Journey licked her lips and broke her gaze with me to find Grim’s.

Grim knelt beside her, the sound of his hand running along her back providing a soft, soothing rhythm.

“There was a wolf of the lower warrior class. You, Hawke. Your soul, anyway. He was rejected after a female alpha saw him hunting. You never met her. She chose another, but you felt the bond break and left the realm. You took refuge in a human village and felt a bond with a human woman and fell in love.”

I smiled at her words and squeezed Hawke’s hand.

My mind was weaving a tapestry of colors, sounds, and textures that I never could have dreamed up. The market was filled with the sound of merchants haggling and the chill of the fog as it descended over the area.

The horses cautiously made their way around a stranger in strange clothing, their hooves squelching in the mud with each step. He wore no tunic, his hair wasn’t tied back like most of the men in the marketplace, and his beard was unkempt.

Women stayed away, and the men stared at him in disgust. The bags he carried were large, but it did not deter his gate as he walked through the market. The village people stayed away, not even offering him food for money or trade.

Yet there was one woman with blonde hair that walked up to him with no fear and stood in front of him with such confidence. The stranger stared at her in confusion until he looked around him to be sure that it was in fact him the woman was speaking to.

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