Page 32 of Betrayed Wolf Mate

My wolf was just as anxious, flexing her claws and snarling as she yearned to be free. She didn’t like the thought ofbeing away from Sam or his wolf, either. She wanted to be side by side with him, fighting the threat.

I wanted to tell myself to stop caring about what might happen to Sam. After all, I didn’t want to get too attached. But that was impossible for me to do now that I knew he was in real danger. I didn’t want him to get hurt or die on my account, and not just because I would feel responsible, but because I didn’t like the thought of him getting injured, period. I wanted him safe and whole. I wanted him here with me.

I kept pacing, wishing that the damn safehouse came with a clock. It felt like an eternity had gone by, but for all I knew, it had only been five minutes. I felt like I was losing my mind. I hated this, and I was furious with Sam for putting me here.

Finally, I heard noise from outside the bunker, muffled voices that I couldn’t identify. My head spun to the door, ears pricked as I tried to make out more. Was it Sam? Another of the Silver Wolves? Had the underlings found me?

Or, worst of all, was it Akron himself?

There was nowhere for me to hide or flee. All I could do was wait to see as my heart pounded in my throat.

The door opened, and a familiar figure stood silhouetted in the doorway.

“Oh, thank God!” I cried out before running straight into Sam’s open arms, nearly knocking him over. I nuzzled against him, needing to smell him to reassure myself that he was really there.

It was him. He was okay.

“If that’s the reaction I get every time I come back from a fight, I think I might need to go into battle more often,” he joked.

“Don’t you dare,” I growled, taking a step back and glaring at him. “I nearly had a heart attack waiting to see if you would be all—” I cut myself off as I finally looked at Sam properly and took in his appearance.

He was covered in bruises and cuts. A stitched-up gash that would definitely turn into a scar ran up his arm, bisecting the swirling tattoo there. He was filthy, with dirt in his hair. And the exhaustion on his face was so blatant that I was shocked he was still on his feet.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a few scrapes. Klyte already patched me up.”

“Just a few scrapes? Look at you.” I motioned up and down in emphasis.

He tilted his head, a small smirk playing on his face. “Haven’t had a chance to find a mirror. I was too busy trying to get here.”

“Don’t fucking joke about this,” I moaned, guilt mixing with anger and concern. Tears blurred my vision as I realized just how close he’d been to dying. And it had been my fault.

Something in my tone or demeanor must have registered because the smirk playing on Sam’s lips faded away, replaced with somber appraisal. “Can you give us a few?” he asked, and for a moment, I thought he was talking to me. But then I realized that Mark was standing a few feet away. He nodded to Sam and stepped away.

Sam ushered me back into the safehouse and closed the door behind us. He crouched so that we were at eye level. “Are you all right?” he asked.

The question was so stupid, I actually laughed. “Of course I’m not all right,” I said. “A hoard of demons and my old pack just attacked a village because of me. I put you and a bunch of others in danger because I’m selfish and decided to stay instead of leaving the moment I found out Farrow knew where I was.”

Comprehension dawned on Sam’s face, his features crumpling with concern. “This isn’t your fault,” he said gently.

I gave a wild laugh, and the tears that had been threatening to come since I’d first found out about the attack spilled over. “Of course it’s my fault,” I said. “All of this is my fault.”

“Stella, it’s okay.” He pulled me against his chest, holding me there. My breaths were shallow, but once his scent wrapped around me, I calmed down a little. “You didn’t do any of this. And you have nothing to worry about.”

“They’ll come back,” I said, my voice choking. “They’ll come back until they take me. And it’s all my fault this is happening.”

“If they come back, they’ll have me to deal with,” he growled.

I gave a strangled, bitter laugh. “You abandoned me last time,” I said. “How is this any different? How am I supposed to trust you?”

I don’t know what compelled me to say it. Maybe it was the heightened emotions, or maybe it was because I couldn’t understand why Sam was risking his life for me after he’d just left the first time around. Regardless, the words spilled out of me as if a dam had ruptured, and there was no taking them back now.

Sam’s body went rigid at the words, then went slack. He sighed as he stepped away from me, hurt and guilt spreading across his features.

“Yeah,” he said. “I left last time. And I shouldn’t have. It’s a mistake I’ve regretted every day since.”

“Why, then? If it was such a big regret, why did you leave?”

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