Page 9 of Depraved
Two soft sconces in the wall set on either side of the queen bed light Elena’s profile. Just laying my eyes on her has an immediate physical effect on me. Something softens in my chest, a tightness that I thought I’d been carrying from the stress of this catastrophe but apparently is related only to separation from her.
She’s so incredibly beautiful. The elegant arch of her spine, the glow of her cheeks, the proud curve of her brows. Everything about her appeals to me, even though she’s still covered in ash from the neck down, even though her shoulders stoop wearily. Though I’m across the room, I can see the shadows under her eyes. Her lips are thin as she leans from a recliner pulled close to the bed, her pale fingers linked with Jonah’s. Her face has been washed but her clothes are still tattered and stained, her shoes smelling faintly of melted rubber. The tragedy of the night still marks her and I can see tension in the way she holds herself. She’s horribly worried, my little wolf.
A purr erupts unintended from my chest as the need to soothe away her worry and erase her sorrow grows to a physical ache inside of me. This is my omega, who should be cherished and protected at all costs. I’ve left her to fend for herself for hours … and she looks ready to break.
I drain the rest of my coffee mug and set it on a side table before I stride toward her, and when she looks up, brows rising, a spark coming back into her eyes, my chest swells.
“You got him, right?” Fury edges her words in fire.
I hate that I have to shake my head, that I have to disappoint her. Everything inside me seems to shrink at the gesture. She tries to mask her anxiety at my response, but I can hear the thud pick up in her pulse, scent her fear. Fuck.
I underestimated this psychopath. The fact that I won’t do it again doesn’t seem to matter in light of everyone who’s been lost.
My wolf, scenting Elena’s need, returns and whines his apology inside my head before trotting out into my field of vision in his avatar form and nudging our mate with his nose.
I stride over to her and scoop her into my arms, sitting back down with her on my lap, her hand never letting go of Jonah’s.
Ahh. Yes. The feel of her small body safely encased in my arms sends my churning worries grinding to a halt—like a wheel that’s been running nonstop, slowing and then stilling.
“I …we …” I hear the protest in her tone but cut her off with a soothing purr.
The effect is instantaneous. Her body softens against mine and her cheek comes to rest on my chest. Despite everything that’s happened tonight and the weight of everything to come, I find peace in that moment. We sit like that for several minutes in silence as I soak in the comfort of her presence, and she soaks in mine.
When the vision of my wolf trots over to Elena and starts to lick at her neck, her filthy state disturbing him, I reevaluate what I’m doing. Holding her isn’t enough. My stubborn girl hasn’t been taking care of herself. I doubt she’s even eaten. That won’t do.
Deftly, I reach over and unthread her fingers from her beta’s.
“Hey. Stop.”
“You need to bathe. And eat. And sleep. You aren’t going to be able to take care of him when he wakes if you’re falling over yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Let’s pretend you were in the hospital and saw a filthy visitor next to your burn patient with a chance of infecting the wounds—”
“Fuck you for logicking me,” she grumbles, but I know I’ve won.
I can’t hold back a chuckle as her arms twine around my neck as I stand with her in my arms. Knowing she’ll protest if I bring her to my larger bathroom, I simply turn to the en suite. At the door, I press a button set into the wall.
“Yes?” Matthew’s response is immediate.
“We’ll need food and clothes in about half an hour,” I tell him. “Elena needs her pajamas.”
“Yes, Alpha Maddox.”
I disengage the button and walk into the bathroom as Elena grouses, “I don’t want Matthew pawing through my underwear.”
“Want me to go back and tell him not to bring panties? I’m fine with that.” The angry kitten look she gives me is so adorable that I can’t help but lean down to steal a kiss. My lips brush lightly over hers, but I pull back when I feel her mouth soften compliantly under mine.
She needs to be taken care of first. My entire body is practically vibrating with the need to clean her and clothe her, to feed her by hand. I carefully set her down on the bathmat and then strip her and myself.
I turn the shower on, letting it get hot as I stare at my mate. Her eyes drift to the ground self-consciously but I don’t stop looking, though I don’t let my eyes graze her breasts or long legs the way they normally would. Instead, I stare at the ash-covered top of her head and find my throat growing tight.
“You led the pack in a mourning song.”
Her moon-colored eyes drift up to mine and tears shine inside of them. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just … had to. I—” Her fist drifts in the direction of her heart and she stops, open-mouthed, searching for the words.
But I know what she means. I know that need to howl and fill the sky with your pain.
