Page 84 of The Wolfing Hour
“And it’s pathetically limited, I know. I’d hoped for more.”
“Still…” Ronan’s brow creased. “The part about the silver might be something. Silver on the walls makes sense if he’s holding shifters captive—it’s probably why I couldn’t feel anything from Rory when I reached out.”
“Does the room sound familiar?”
“No,” he said. “If it’s a real place, Floyd’s kept its existence a secret.”
I decided to keep the part about the screams to myself. It would distract him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, I didn’t know that it was Rory, hadn’t been able to tell if the screams came from a woman at all. “Someone had to have helped build it, right? Floyd is a business owner, not a contractor.”
“Good point. One of the wolves working construction might’ve helped. Maybe someone who doesn’t know what he or she knows, so to speak. I’ll ask around.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster to send a mental image of a place matching the description to the pack?”
“Yes, and it would also be tipping our hand. With this being the only clue we have, I’m more inclined to keep my inquiries discreet. Make them feel comfortable enough to stay put.”
Had it been me, I’d have sent out a county-wide email, but Ronan had his methods, and he understood the pack—and his father—better than I did. “Another question. Why don’t you try to affect Floyd and his alphas the way you did the wolves who attacked me? Make them feel the sorrow you felt? Or zombify them?”
“Zombify,” he muttered, and shook his head. “For me to do something like that, they’d have to be near me either physically or mentally, and I’m not sure they are. Something’s going on with the pack right now—a separation, a line drawn between the loyalists and the rest. I felt it, and thought it was just me, but other wolves have mentioned it, too. That they were just suddenly cut off from the alpha.”
“He kicked them out of the pack?”
“Effectively. He’s severed the alpha bond. They’re still technically in his pack but receive no benefit. This means a lot of beta wolves will suffer. They depend on the strength of the alpha to change and heal.” He squeezed his hands into fists. “I’ve watched too many powerful shifters play political games with weaker shifters’ lives, and it enrages me. Having alpha strength is like having enormous wealth—both are a gift, and gifts are meant to be shared.”
“You’re a good guy, Ronan Williams. And you’re going to make an amazing leader.”
“Thanks. I never wanted this again, but sometimes we get what we need and not what we want.” He slid an arm around my shoulders. “FYI, the radio in your bedroom is set to KLXX and your comforter is turned down, waiting for you. Go get some rest.”
“That’s a big fat lie, Ronan, because you stormed straight into the house after me, and I know for a fact you didn’t go into my room.”
“Yet.”
I took his outstretched hand and let him lead me into the bedroom, where he closed the blinds, switched on the radio and turned down the bed sheets. Exhaustion was evident in every line of his body and yet, here he was, taking care of me. I didn’t say it aloud again, but he really was going to be a hell of an alpha leader.
He crawled in behind me as Jackson Browne sang “Somebody’s Baby”—whatever mage/psychic/empath was running that damn station wasn’t even pretending anymore, because it waswaytoo early for the eighties hour—and held me tight against his body. He let out a sigh that held a world of worry.
“We’re going to find her,” I said.
He didn’t respond, just hummed along with the melody of the song, stroked my hair, and held me tight.
He was gonewhen I woke up.
I’d slept for a grand total of four hours, which left me feeling more tired than before I’d crawled into bed.
Going back to sleep wasn’t an option, so I dragged myself out of bed and slouched into the kitchen. The breakfast dishes had been washed and set in the drainer to dry.
The man was in the middle of the biggest challenge of his life, and he’d taken five minutes before leaving to clean up the kitchen. If I hadn’t been all in before, I sure as heck would be now.
The day was hot and humid enough to be annoying. My hair stuck to my face and got in the way of my work, so I braided it into one fat braid that trailed down my back, like I did before bedsometimes. When temps rose in the low desert, fashion took a back seat to expediency.
The boys and I spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon crafting healing charms for our allies. We carefully handled each blood sample, even retaining what we could after the spells were complete—in case we needed to make more than one, goddess help us. When all was said and done, we’d destroy the samples, but for now? Best to hold onto them.
Halfway through our preparations, I noticed Cecil wearing apaincharm on his head.
“Hungover?” I asked. “You’ve been hitting the booze more than usual. Something wrong?”
Cecil made a clicking sound that sounded like the verbal equivalent of a middle finger.
“Is it living with me that’s got you upset?”
