The urge to lash out or scrape off my skin was present, but much less than I’d ever felt before. It was almost a non-issue. I’d never have believed that anyone could desensitize me to their touch within hours—it took Hunter years to even be able to brush by me without copping a fist to the face. The rest of ourpack was the same. If I initiated the contact, it was different, but they could never touch me first.
Emmeline collapsed against the wall, a bowl of salad in her hands as she grumpily shoveled the greenery into her face. She looked so put out eating lettuce, and the pout on her lips distracted me from my task.
Yep, my fascination continued to grow, and I was starting to wonder if my usuallimitedtolerance for shifters would not have the same limit with Emmeline.
“You want some?” she asked, holding the bowl out toward me. A glimmer of hope that I’d take it away shone on her face.
I almost laughed. An actual, amused laugh.
When I removed the bowl from her hands, she released the most relieved sigh I’d ever heard, and my restrained chuckle from before escaped. Her relief altered into shock, and she stared at me like she’d never seen another shifter before. Ignoring her, I dropped the repulsive greenery on the tray and returned to my task of releasing this cuff.
It took her a few seconds to recover from her shock, as she watched me closely from her peripherals. Eventually, she got to her feet and started to pace—another oddity for an omega, with her incessant need to move. “Are your injuries fully healed?” I asked, sensing no more pain but needing her confirmation.
There was a pause as she tested out her limbs and did a few jumps on the spot. “I still have a couple of mild aches, but otherwise, everything appears to be in working order. I think my healing has improved since letting my wolf out more.”
It would continue to improve through the years, but she’d never grow to what she could have been. The most fundamental growth periods were during our first shifts, and she’d been locked down by her mother and pack. It’d be a celebration when their entire pack was dead.
“We need to make a run for it soon,” I said, digging in the side of the cuff. “Our only issue is the witch magic. These cuffs give them a direct link to our shifter side, and my normal resistance is weakened. We need to take their witch out first. If she’s unconscious or dead, her magic won’t be as effective.”
“What if it’s not an actual witch?” Emme mused as she tilted her head. “You said they could just have access to spells she left behind.”
In my experience, most witches wouldn’t leave their magic in shifters hands, but I’d also never met any pack receiving as much magical help as the Rogers pack. There was a bigger connection here between this pack and the witches. One that I hadn’t managed to uncover in my research.
“They could have access to spells,” I finally admitted. “Which is why I’m going to attack first, while you remain down here. I’m strong enough that even if the witch is up there, she’ll have to use a lot of her power to knock me down. If she’s not up there, they’ll have to exhaust their stores of energy to stop me. Either way, it’s going to assist in us eventually getting out of here.”
Emme’s expression turned uneasy, her eyes a piercing, icy blue. Her face was easy-to-read, but her true worry and fear lingered deepest in her eyes. “I don’t like the thought of you going up there without me,” she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose and bringing my attention to the spatter of freckles across her cheeks. Who knew freckles could also be fascinating. “What if you get hurt? What if they kill you? I’d never even know.”
No one ever worried about me, and for very good reason. “If they can kill me, then there’s no hope for your survival, Snow. You should worry about yourself if that scenario comes to pass.”
Her expression fell and she immediately shut down as she crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Makes sense.”
I examined her briefly, trying to understand what I’d said to upset her. The varying depth of emotions most shifters experienced were not familiar to me. I lived in a world of black and white, facts and figures, data and code. Emmeline Anders was all color and grayscale, spontaneity and beauty. It was a foreign language.
Ironic, considering I could speak almost every language known to shifters.
Just not Emmeline Anders, apparently.
CHAPTER 5
EMME
Slade returned to working the cuff on his ankle, which he’d transformed into a mangled mess of metal, even as it remained around his black pants. I took another sip of water and continued my new favorite pastime: watching the dragon shifter and debating if I’d ever break through his contained exterior.
Whenever I made even a small dent, he’d retreat and ice me out again, which only had me trying harder. “I really don’t like the idea of you heading up there without me.”
He’d already explained his reasons why, and they made perfect sense. Both of us agreed that in a physical sense, I would be less than zero help. There was no debating that after what I’d seen him do to Donnie and Blaine. Hewasunderestimating how great my moral support was, though.
“You must be protected,” was all he said, and while a part of me swooned another part was annoyed.
I’d survived a lot on my own. Slade believed me to be a frail, pathetic omega with zero dominance. Next thing you know he’d call mecuteas he bopped me on the nose, and I could store the full trifecta of shifter loserdom under my belt.
I started to pace, enjoying the use of my legs, even as the chains still attached to my cuffs clanked. “What are they waiting for?” I growled, my voice healed up enough for a decent growl again.
Slade didn’t look up as he tore away another strip of the outer layers of metal. “If I had to guess, which I don’t particularly like to do, they’re reassessing and figuring out how to keep me contained now that I’ve busted through their cage. They’re probably also regretting bringing me along for the ride, though it was their only logical choice at the time.”
“What if they’d killed you?”
The sound that emerged from him was a dark, twisted version of a laugh. “I’m not easy to kill, which is the only reason I’m here with you.”
