Page 127 of The Delta's Rogue
She holds her hands out in front of her. I grab the key from the seat and tap first the cuffs on her wrists, then the cuffs on her ankles. They fall to the floor of the vehicle with four soft thuds. I reach for her neck, brushing her hair off her shoulders and down her back. Pinching the collar between my fingers, I tap it with the key and grit my teeth against the brief bite from the silver on my skin as it clicks open.
What I feel is inconsequential compared to the continuous sting of pain Sarina must have felt while trapped in those shackles.
I toss the collar to the floor. My eyes water as I take in the narrow line of burned, raw skin around her throat.
Her chin lifts, and her eyes close as she circles and stretches her neck, shoulders rolling with the movements. A minuscule amount of tension releases from her body now that she’s free from her shackles, but all I see are her wounds.
Sarina traces her fingers across my forehead. She cups my cheeks in her hands, and her lips press kisses to my clenched eyelids. Only then do I realize I closed them in my anger, in my turmoil, trying to control my wrath-filled lycan.
“Lo siento, cariño.” I shake my head in apology and cover her hands with mine.
She says nothing in response. Letting go of my face, she lays against my chest and curls in on herself once more as her arms wrap around me.
We spend the rest of the drive that way, existing in silence in each other’s arms.
Dominic’s eyes glance at us in the rearview mirror every so often, but he doesn’t speak, granting us some privacy until he parks in the garage.
As the door rolls shut, a wave of exhaustion overtakes me. I tilt my head against the seat with a sigh, my eyes closing, the lids too heavy for me to keep open.
I can’t rest yet. We’re out of the auction house, but we’re still too close to those twisted assholes for my comfort.
I need to get her away from here.Faraway from here.
The back door opens. Dominic holds it for me as I climb out with Sarina in my arms. She tightens her hold on me and continues to press her nose harder against my chest, breathing deeply and intentionally to snag a hint of my scent.
“Here.” Dominic holds the transport stone out in between us. “Rune told me to bring this, just in case.”
I tighten my grip on Sarina so I can keep her secure while the stone moves us from one place to the other. “That was lucky.”
“Everyone is waiting for us. I called to tell them we found Sarina and got her out, and we’d be bringing her back.”
“If the traffickers are watching our rental, they’ll know something isn’t right when only Nolan and Cassandra leave in the morning.”
“The SUV windows are tinted,” Dominic points out.
“But the house has—”
Dominic claps his hand on my shoulder, cutting off my protests. “There is a plan. We’re getting her out of here, and you need to let us take care of the rest so you can take care of her.”
I push all worries—other than Sarina, and her safety and well-being—to the recesses ofmy mind. “Thank you.”
Dominic throws the stone in the air and catches it. The world whirls around us, and we travel through the gaps in time and space from Lake Tahoe to our destination—Peter and Imogen’s home.
It’s tucked away in the mountains above our pack, protected by enchantments to keep anyone from stumbling onto the property unknowingly. They offered their guest rooms to Dominic and Sarina’s friends, so they could keep a low profile and there would be fewer suspicions and questions from our pack members. Peter, it seems, owed King Malachi a favor, and Imogen was thrilled to have company. When Peter is at rehearsals, she spends much of her time alone as she adjusts to being a vampire, so playing hostess has been an enjoyable distraction for her.
I brace for shouting, questions, and exclamations from our collective pack members. I prepare for the panic the noise is likely to awaken in Sarina, ready to whisk her away into the closest room and lock the door behind us so we can continue on our path of healing and bonding. But the only sounds I hear are quiet footsteps moving across the marble floor of the grand foyer.
Riven paces between the two sweeping staircases that frame the entrance, his hand running through his blond hair. He stops when he sees us, then darts forward.
“Oh, thank the Goddess,” he rushes out, reaching for Sarina.
I growl, lip curling and teeth baring. I grip Sarina tighter, turning us so she’s out of his reach, before I set her on her feet and place myself between her and Riven. Dominic squeezes my shoulder, and Riven steps away, but I don’t back down. My growl builds, growing in volume and intensity, echoing through the foyer.
Riven’s throat bobs. His eyes and chin lower as his hands lift in surrender.
My heart pounds in my ears. The roaring, snapping lycan in my mind, sick of being restrained and shoved aside all night in order to protect our mate and our friends, pushes me to set him free. He’s been denied blood for too long, and he can’t recognize friend from foe.
Neither of us can.
