Page 8 of Depraved
The first gulp burns my throat.
“Game time?” my butler asks, casually rather than mockingly for once.
I don’t answer, just study him. His gray hair is unkempt, which is unusual for him. Even more strange, there’s a dull black ash stain on his shirt. He went to the pack house.
Gratitude rises in my chest. Though he’s a glimmer—a person born human and without powers in the supernatural community—he’s damn loyal. Part of me wants to thank him but his stiff upper lip and his expression warn me against it. He’s holding it together—but just barely.
I turn toward the stairwell and take another sip of scalding coffee. “Pluto?”
“Upstairs recovering. He’ll be alright.”
I don’t allow my relief to show on my face because Matthew’s assessment isn’t true. Pluto won’t be alright—none of my pack will—until little Thomas and any wolves who helped him are eviscerated.
“Are you hungry, Alpha Maddox?”
“Where is she?” I don’t bother answering that question, because there’s only one thing I’m hungry for right now.
“She’s with Murky on the third floor, in the room next to the one Cody stayed in.”
I’ve launched up the stairs the next second, skipping every other step, ignoring sharp jabs inside my calves in my eagerness to see her.
My wolf paces inside my head, not bothering to manifest into a vision in front of my eyes. He’s worn out too. But the drive to see our mate pulls us both forward.
I reach the third floor in record time, and stride swiftly down the carpet until I come to a closed bedroom door. I don’t bother knocking, just yank it open.
I realize it’s the wrong room immediately. Pluto lies sleeping in a bed, pale as the moon and covered in sweat. He’s shifted back to his human body and out of his wolf form far sooner than I would have expected. I’m not sure that’s a good thing. I’ve seen men near death before and he looks like he’s about to shake hands with the reaper.
But Matthew said he’d be alright. Matthew wouldn’t have said that without the healers, I tell the panicked rage that spikes inside my chest and sets my wolf to growling when he sees his second looking so weak. I have to turn away before I shove my fist through a wall.
I have to give him the time he needs to heal. I can’t let emotion get the best of me right now.
I argue with myself and my wolf.He wouldn’t have turned back into a human if his wolf hadn’t already healed him as much as possible.My wolf doesn’t like my logic. He pops into view snarling. He’s reached his logical limit for the night and wants to leap through my skin and attack someone—anyone.
I shove him roughly back inside my mind, building a mental cage out of shadows so I don’t have to see his hunched back, his sharp teeth, the way his hackles have risen. The cage blocks him from view even though I still hear his growls. He’s furious at me for denying him, but I don’t give a damn.
Little Thomaswantsme out of control. He’s been toying with me. He wants my instincts to overtake me so that I fly into a wild rage, become an uncontrolled wolf. I won’t let that happen.
I’m careful to shut Pluto’s door quietly, so as not to disturb him, because he clearly needs the rest.
I walk over to the other door—the one that Matthew must’ve intended.
I smell Elena’s scent before I even turn the knob. A vanilla and wildflowers aroma hovers delicately in the hallway, though it’s faded and old, which means she’s been in that room for hours.
I wonder if Jonah’s looking as bad as Pluto.
As I grip the handle of the door, a dark, selfish little part of me takes over. Jealousy kisses my cheek, whispering murderous words seductively into my ear. If he was gone, she’d belong only to me. Mine.
I swallow hard as my wolf whines longingly from inside his cage. He often has the same thought … It would be easy … So easy right now. He’s aching for a release. All it would take is a brief moment of distraction. I could have Matthew call Elena downstairs to feed her. Less than five minutes. A pillow—
I roughly shove those thoughts away. I mentally curse and yell at my psychotically possessive wolf until he falls silent.
We protect. Don’t exploit the weak.I remind him of the alpha’s place in a pack as I yank away his cage so I can see him, ready to take him on if I have to, because this sort of shit will not stand. I won’t let it.
When he sees me approach, stomping toward him in the red-tinged black abyss inside our mind, his lips start to curl back from his teeth but I swat him so hard he flies through the air with a surprised yelp and—for the first time since he appeared—for the first time in twenty-three years, he fades completely from my sight.
I blink for a few seconds, thrown off balance. I have no idea what just happened or why. But if the best he can serve up right now is envy and murder, then I don’t need him anyway.
I open the door softly and peer inside at the Victorian decor some designer or other thought would convey timeless elegance. There’s a green-canopied bed and dark furniture. A lush Turkish rug and a lit curio full of knickknacks. But my eyes only briefly travel over any of that in the search for my mate.
