Oh.
Fair enough. She and John obviously knew more about the next stages of the plan than Logan did. “How far away is it?”
“An hour, hour and a half.” She frowned. “Usually we’d wait until night, but...” Her gaze drifted to Cole. “We don’t have that long.”
Panic gripped Logan, chest tightening. “How long do we have?”
“I can’t say for sure. Three, maybe four hours? The bullet nicked bone. He really needs a hospital, but they should have enough supplies at Mothecombe.” She filled a syringe with morphine—the last she had, apparently—and injected it into Cole, then looked up at Logan. “And Isaac Mothecombe is a surgeon.”
A flicker of hope flared to life inside Logan at that news. “Let’s go then.”
Logan carried Cole up the stone steps, trying to be careful but wincing with each soft moan that escaped him. Still blessedly unconscious, Logan prayed he stayed that way until they got to John’s van, or preferably to the Mothecombe Pack, which Logan was still unsure about. But after the last few hours, he trusted Max implicitly.
John carried Aaron, and Max followed after them carrying her rucksack.
Once settled in the back of John’s van, Logan sat on the floor next to Cole and reached for his hand. His fever was worse. “Can we give him some more antibiotics?” Logan asked Max, nudging her gently with his foot.
She sat on a huge cushion, next to Aaron, and turned to look at him. “If he wakes up.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll have to wait till we get to Mothecombe; they’ve got more than just chemist supplies.”
He glanced at Cole’s thigh; the white bandages already spotted with red. “Is he going to die?” The words caught in his throat, eyes watering. Cole had got under his skin despite his best efforts to remain detached.
Max leant her head against the side of the van. He knew she wouldn’t mince words. “Maybe. I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood, and that leg is infected.”
Logan sighed and gave Cole’s fingers a gentle squeeze. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the soft warmth of Cole’s lips on his, the promise of what it could be like if they let it go further.
And he wanted to.
So badly.
But would Cole want it? He hadn’t let himself think along those lines before, shouldn’t be doing so now. When Cole was well enough, he’d be leaving Logan for good. That was the plan, had always been the plan, and Logan knew it had to happen.
But somewhere along the way, his heart had decided it was a terrible idea. Even if Cole wasn’t set to leave, pursuing anything with him wouldn’t be wise. Shifters could have multiple partners, just like humans did, but when they found someone they wanted more with, who their wolf felt a connection with too... then they had the option to bond. To make that connection, that union, as permanent as it could get. Cole would never want that. From what little he’d read, humans saw shifter bonding as little more than a jail sentence. Why tie yourself to someone like that? What if you wanted out after a while?
But wasn’t that what marriage was supposed to be?
Shifters never rushed into a bond.
The feeling needed to be instinctual on both sides. A bone-deep yearning to spend your lives together. Logan trusted his wolf instincts without question, and if he was honest, the tell-tale signs were already there.
But Cole was human, would never have those feelings about him, even if he stayed.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to think of something else entirely.
Like what he was going to do now he couldn’t go home.
THE VAN CAME to a stop, jarring Logan from his doze. “We here already?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced over at Max, who shook her head.
“I don’t think so.”
John opened a hatch and peered in at them. “Bloody traffic.”
For fuck’s sake.
A low groan next to him caught Logan’s attention, and he snapped around to see Cole’s eyes flutter open. “Thirsty.”
