I want her eyes. I need her to look at me.
If that fucker gets to have her bond first, then I at least want her to be able to look me in the eye.
“Look at me.” My words aren’t a bark, but Mirabelle follows my instructions like they are. “I don’t like the fact you bonded with him first. But the last thing I want is you pulling away from me ‘cause you’re afraid of me. They’re the ones who’ll deal with the consequences, if there are any. Not you. Never you.”
“But—but I don’t want there to be consequences for them doing something they had to do.”
“Did you want to form the bonds you did?” I ask, jaw working.
“Yes. I did,” she says.
“Then that’s something I’ll have to get over. But that’s my shit I need to work through, got it? Not yours.”
Even as I say the words, I can feel an itch underneath my skin. I have no clue how to start getting over this shit. But it’s obvious that this is eating Mirabelle up inside.
The backseat opens to reveal Griffin, clad in his borrowed clothes. He dangles a key from his hand. “Got us a room! Let’s get settled in.”
CHAPTER 41
Mirabelle
I’m really grateful Rage doesn’t seem to want to let me go. There’s a tremble that’s starting in my belly, radiating outwards throughout my body that won’t seem to stop.
If I didn’t have his massive arms banding around me, pressing me against his warm chest, I’d probably fall apart.
The motel room is pretty plain. The carpet throughout the floor looks coarse and the pattern on it has faded to the point of being unidentifiable.
The two queen beds take up most of the space in the room.
Ash prowls through the room, opening the doors to the cabinet and peering into them like he’s checking to make sure there’s not someone hiding there.
Maybe that is what he’s doing. Do people hide in motel rooms?
I think it’d be pretty silly if they did. The thought doesn’t even cause me any sort of anxiety, considering the fact I have four guys to protect me.
Well, three technically. Not because Rowan’s a beta, but because he was shot.
Ash flicks on the light to the attached bathroom, illuminating a small but clean space.
I don’t know which cabinet he found them in, but he tosses Rowan and I a few towels.
Rage eyes them as they flop onto the bed beside us and gingerly picks one up. He eyes me silently, his jaw working as he freezes.
When his gaze lands to where I’m still clinging to my bleeding shoulder, I understand what’s going on.
“Do you want to look at it?” I ask Rage softly.
He gives me a single nod.
My breath is shaky as I lift my hand and peel back the thin silk robe from my skin. It’s sticky with blood. There’s a lot, which makes the cut on my shoulder look a lot worse. But surprisingly, it seems the blood has slowed down to a steady ooze.
With a touch that’s impossibly delicate compared to the violence he’s showed he’s capable of, he presses a smaller hand towel over the cut, holding steadier pressure than I could ever.
“Are you trying to stop the bleeding?” I ask him.
He offers me another nod.
“Thank you.” My lips tug up into a smile. It’s small, considering the pressure stings like crazy, but still. He likes my smiles.
