In one breath she had managed to disregard two of Aaron’s three warnings. His fingers curled against his palms.
For a moment Malachi was quiet, measuring. Well, he could smell the desperation exuding from Ember’s pores as strongly as Aaron could. Somehow Aaron had to dispel her animosity and convince her to return to her life and wait for Quinn to visit when he was ready. Nobody had to tell her that would take a few years.
Then again, if nobody told her, she’d probably show up on his porch again whenever she figured it out.
At last Malachi spoke, his rasping words effused with final authority. “You’ve seen he’s unharmed. You’re free to stay here for the day and ask him whatever you want. You’ll leave this evening.”
“With your permission I want to stay through the full moon.”
She wantedwhat? The back of Aaron’s neck prickled, fine hairs rising in absence of hackles.
“I’ll be careful. I won’t put myself at risk. But I need to see first-hand how he’s treated and how to get through to him when he’s—when he’s in his other form.”
“No,” Malachi said. “You’ll leave this evening.”
Her head whipped up. Her gray eyes, so much like Quinn’s, met Malachi’s and held. Of course it wasn’t true eye contact, any more than Aaron had allowed her since she’d shown up, but that wasn’t the point. Ember was seeking a stare-down with Malachi.
Aggression spiked in her scent as she said, “You can’t refuse me access to him. You don’t have legal grounds to do that. If you try it I’ll know just how respectable you are, and I’ll respond accordingly.”
Then she broke the third rule Aaron had given her. She took a single step toward an alpha wolf.
Malachi charged across the porch. Her human eyesight would see only a blur. Within a second he stood over her, mere feet between them. His lips pulled back from his teeth as a growl ripped from his chest.
Aaron’s head bowed. Instinct. Nothing voluntary about it. His body responding to the knowledge that Malachi had no physical equal on this ground.
Ember’s body and brain took an extra second to register Malachi’s movement toward her, his vocalization, his bared teeth aimed down at her. Then she cried out—a choked sound, caught between scream and sob—and scrambled backward.
Right off the side of the porch.
And Aaron caught her. No recollection of deciding to move, of leaping off the porch, of extending his arms as a cradle for Ember to fall into, of pulling his arms close to his body and bowing over her tiny frame. But here he stood, shielding Ember close to himself, while his insides seemed to blister and burn.
Malachi gave a huffing grunt that sounded no different when he was in wolf form. He tipped his head toward the house. Permission or dismissal—Aaron couldn’t think straight enough to parse which. He jumped up, ignoring the porch steps. He shouldered the door open and carried her inside. Quinn was nowhere around, probably in his room. Good.
Aaron set Ember on her feet and brushed her soft brown hair from her face. In her fall, she had lost one of her little flat shoes. She swayed and reached out to catch herself, and her palms collided with his chest. She looked up, eyes slightly glazed, so defenseless he wanted to scoop her into his arms again until she was steady.
“Aaron?”
“Take a deep breath.”
She did. Her fingers curled around handfuls of his shirt. “Was he going to kill me?”
“What? No.”
As if she couldn’t process his response, she blurted, “Can you keep him from killing me, or do you have to step aside because he’s your alpha?”
His guts were still on fire; otherwise he’d want to roll his eyes at her media-sourced nonsense. Instead he had to reassure her. The fire demanded it. “You were out of line, and he let you know. That’s all.”
“Oh, that’s all?” A weak laugh, maybe a shade of panic, but she tamped it down, breathed deep again, and stepped back to look up at him. “You’re right. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
From outside on the porch, Malachi gave a growl too low for her to hear. His signature scent of musk came to Aaron with a blend of agitation and authority, and from Aaron’s deepest self came the tug of duty.
“Stay inside,” Aaron said. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“Aaron, please, I swear to you I’ll—I’ll learn whatever I need to know. Please ask the alpha for me. Ask him to let me stay.”
She still wasn’t running from them. She still wasn’t giving up. She stood there wearing one shoe, small and shapely and vulnerable and relentless. He wanted to cradle her again, this time to savor how she felt in his arms. He wanted to lean close and inhale her, enjoy her unique nutmeg essence.
He shook his head against the unexpected thoughts. “Stay inside.”
