“No.”
April jumped at the volume, the harshness of his growl. He must have caught a scent of distress, because his eyes shot open, already looking toward her, and his mouth pressed tight.
“I frightened you.” His voice was nearly gone now, overtaken by his rasp.
“No,” she said. “Just startled me, that’s all. Easy to do these days.”
“I’m sorry. I never… I’m sorry.”
April crossed the room and sat on the arm of the chair, but his whole posture withdrew from her. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t himself. She took his hand in both of hers.
“Malachi, listen to me. I’m not afraid of you. I’m worried for you. I know you’re hiding how bad the pain is. But you could be fully healed, pain-free, I’m sure of it.”
“No. My answer won’t change, April. Not about this.”
Three days of watching her wolf push through weakness, come home drained every evening, insist on continuing to sleep on the couch while recovering from nine bullet wounds… April’s patience for his stubbornness ran out all at once. She stood, paced away from his chair, and let out a growl of her own.
“You should go,” he said.
Midstride, she froze. “What?”
“Trevor and Kelsey would be glad to have you; she told me so the first day you came.”
But…April was trying to help, to take care of her wolf when he most needed it. As he had taken care of her in so many ways when she first arrived here. Tears stung her eyes, and she turned away.
“You’d have no one to worry about over there,” he said. “And they’d be better company than I am right now.”
“Malachi, stop.”
Their eyes met across the room. The moment held.
“As the alpha’s mate, I get a say in some things. Would you agree?”
“Of course.”
“All right, then here they are. One: I’m not leaving. I don’t need you to be entertaining company. You’re my wolf, and the next few weeks are going to be rough as long as you keep this up, and I’m not leaving you to struggle by yourself. And it hurts to hear you suggest I should, so please don’t.”
Slowly, he nodded. A bit of warmth seeped back into his eyes.
“Two: you will sleep in bed tonight.”
He growled, low in his chest, but even the sound of his disapproval was weak and raw.
“It’s not negotiable, Mal. You’re not doing your body any favors out here on the couch; I don’t care how comfortable Trevor made it. And three: I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m asking you, please—just consider allowing your wolf the chance to finish healing you, if it can. Remember how, surrounded by your pack, you were no danger to any of us, least of all me. Remember how that felt.”
Malachi’s massive frame flung itself forward—or tried to. His grip on the arms of the chair made the wood beneath the leather creak. He snarled as his body doubled up, seeming to be bent over by some massive pressure. He was bowed so low, his chest was flush with his legs, his head nearly between his knees. Without thinking April ran to him and knelt in front of the chair to bring her gaze level with his. He met her eyes, and she gasped: his were glowing.
“No,” he growled, and this rumble was powerful. Her wolf sounded as strong as he ever had. “You may not.”
The pressure seemed to lift all at once. He sat up as dramatically as he’d been bowed over. His breathing was loud, ragged. He shut his eyes. April moved to sit on the chair arm again and rubbed his shoulder, a slow soothing rhythm, her hand staying well away from any scar. After a minute his eyes opened, no longer luminous. His breaths grew quiet.
“Are you fighting it like that, internally, all the time?” she said.
“Not to that degree.”
“Did I set it off somehow, reminding you of—of the other time?”
“Yes.”
