Carter had underestimated Grayson. He’d stupidly taken it for granted that the alpha wouldn’t figure out what was going on.
It never occurred to him that Grayson might have people in the Texas pack reporting back to him. They obviously weren’t well connected people—or Grayson would have known sooner what was going on—but by the time Spencer had left for Builder Falls his plans to take over as the Forest Hill alpha had been an open secret.
They never should have dawdled. The minute Carter decided to cede his chance to become alpha to Spencer Tiller, Spencer should have been on a plane to challenge Grayson.
Carter couldn’t believe he’d almost gotten John killed. It made his guts clench up in horrified knots just thinking about it.
The hours between getting John’s call and learning that John was all right were the longest hours of his life.
“You’re sure he’s okay?” he asked again, knowing that he was annoying Owen’s grandmother by asking the question again and not caring in the slightest.
“Yes. He needs rest, and lots of it. He very well might sleep for the next twenty hours. If he’s not awake in ten hours, wake him up and make him drink some water. Other than that, just let him rest.”
Carter nodded, shifting his grip on John to make him more comfortable. He hadn’t seen John’s injuries—Owen reaching the apartment before him and healing most of John’s damage—but he’d smelled the blood when he walked in the door.
The scent would haunt him.
“You should get some rest, too,” Owen said, sitting down next to him on the couch. “Take John to bed and get some sleep. Luke is dealing with Spencer and Elijah so you don’t have to worry about it.”
Carter hadn’t even thought about that. Spencer would still want to be alpha, but now that Elijah had killed his dad the title technically belonged to him.
But that wasn’t something to worry about. Elijah didn’t want to be the alpha. He’d hand over the title without a fight, and the pack magic would be happy to let him. He wasn’t alpha material.
“Okay, thanks for coming to the rescue today,” Carter looked from Owen to his grandmother. “Both of you. I’m so grateful.”
“You’re welcome,” Owen’s grandmother said. She turned to her grandson. “Owen, I think it’s time we headed home. It’s been a long day and I need a drink.”
Luke bid the two witches goodbye, but he hardly paid attention when they left other than to lift his nose when he realized that the scent of blood and pain had disappeared—snatched out of the air like magic.
Lifting John up, Carter carried him to bed. Being as gentle as he could, Carter stripped John naked and bundled him under the covers. Removing his own clothes, feeling bone-weary and tired, he crawled into bed next to him and lay down to sleep next to him.
He’d thought that sleep would be hard to come by—it was only five in the afternoon—but Carter had barely put his head on the pillow before he was drifting off to dreamland.
***
Carter woke up to the feeling of fingers rubbing over his chest, stroking him gently. He blinked his eyes open and saw John lying on his side, looking at him.
“Did all that really happen?” John asked, his voice lowered to a whisper.
Carter swallowed a sudden lump in his throat before answering. “Yes, it did. How are you feeling?”
John’s hands stilled, fingers resting warm and light on Carter’s pec. “I feel okay. It all happened so fast, and Elijah was the one who took the brunt of it.”
“Elijah isn’t as easily damaged as you are,” Carter said. He took John’s hand in his own and squeezed it. “Grayson wasn’t pulling his punches. You could have died.”
John took a deep breath. He shuffled closer so that he was nestled up against Carter’s body, almost lying on top of him.
“But I didn’t. I’m okay.”
Carter turned, wrapping his arm around John and hugging him tight.
“I was really scared,” he whispered.
“Me too,” John said.
They held each other for what felt like hours, not moving until John’s stomach let out a loud rumble. John laughed at the sound and Carter smiled.
“Do you want to get up and get some food?” he asked.
