People got hurt.Sethcould get hurt.
And if he got hurt—if he got so much as a scratch on his lovely skin—it would be because of Riley. Because he wasn’t smart enough, strong enough,wholeenough to protect Seth the way he deserved.
Riley didn’t feel the change coming on. He didn’t lose himself to it either. He didn’t retreat for even a second to that vague, nothing place at the back of his mind.
No. For the first time in his life, Riley could feel the voice at the front of his mindwithhim. Not pushing him back. Not taking over. Standing beside him, ready to do whatever needed to be done.
Find. Our. Mate,it growled.
Yes, Riley agreed.
He was only vaguely aware of Violet in the background, her low, awed chuckle. “Holy fucking shit,” she whispered. “This is so much better than serial killers.”
24
SETH
Seth’s head was aching, pounding with a brutal force he’d never felt before.
He moaned, bile rising in his throat as he shifted on his bed. Had he been drinking last night? He felt sick. Like, really sick. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d partied hard enough to feel anything close to this. He’d definitely been much younger and much, much stupider.
It wasn’t just his head or his stomach either—he was physically shaking, his muscles trembling like he had a bad case of the flu. He didn’t feel feverish though. Actually, he was freezing.
There was only cold air brushing his skin, so he reached down to pull his blanket up over himself, but his fingers grasped at air.
Seth grimaced. He really didn’t want to open his eyes, but it seemed like he had to. He was cold and nauseous, and he needed to be wrapped in a blanket burrito stat.
He forced his eyelids open, immediately shutting them tight again.
Ugh. His overhead light waswaytoo bright. Like, practically fluorescent. He should change the bulbs to something warmer. He would, as soon as he didn’t feel like death warmed over.
Okay, second try.
Seth opened his eyes. Kept them open by sheer force of will.
And immediately wished he hadn’t.
The bile was back in his throat. Because this wasn’t Seth’s bedroom, and it wasn’t his bed. This…Seth had no idea what this was. All he could see were white tile floors and harsh lighting and what looked to be a glass wall in front of him. There was a little slot in the door, close to the floor, about the length and width of a large laptop. And there was a hallway beyond it that was just as bright and sterile as whatever room Seth was in.
He glanced down, wincing at the sharp pain in his head with the movement. He was wearing a…hospital gown? He had his underwear on underneath, so at least there was that. But this didn’t look like any hospital room Seth had ever seen, unless he was in special isolation for something horribly contagious.
But when had he even gotten sick?
This didn’t look like a hospitalbedeither. Seth was on some sort of cot, lying on top of a thin, lumpy mattress with a thin, scratchy blanket covering it. He peered over the side and saw a tin cup of water on the floor next to him.
He should probably drink that, but he didn’t know if he could keep it down.
Also…shouldhe drink that? Who’d even given it to him? What was?—
Running. Seth had been running. He’d been in the woods, and he’d heard something? Felt something? He’d thought it was Riley, but ithadn’tbeen Riley, and then Seth had been…drugged? Had he beendrugged?
“Ah, Mr. Carter. You’re awake.”
Seth looked up from the water on the floor to find a man infront of the glass, wearing a black suit and glasses. Seth had seen him before, right? At the cliff and then…at the bakery. And now he was here, talking to Seth through some sort of intercom.
All of which explained exactly nothing.
There were a million things Seth could ask—or yell—but he settled on, “Where are we?”
