"Verena." His voice is stone. "Don't you ever think for a second I don't want you."
I go still.
"I'm staying awaybecauseI want you." Each word deliberate, controlled. "So badly I ache with it. Every single day."
He takes a step closer and I feel Malcolm's arms tighten around me.
"You think I didn't want to bust through that door when you were in heat?" His hands clench into fists at his sides. "Knot you? Claim you right there with your legal pack right next door?" His voice cracks. "The only reason I didn't was because if I had, any sliver of a chance that the registry will eventually let me keep you would be gone. Snuffed out like a single flame. They'd never trust me again."
He runs a hand through his hair and the controlled mask slips, just slightly, just enough.
"And right now? If I took you in my arms right this second, I'd lose whatever shred of control I'm still holding onto." He takes another step, close enough that I can see the tension in his face and how his pupils have gone wide. "I'd sink my teeth into your scent gland on this porch. Mark you. Claim you. Damn the consequences."
My heart is hammering.
"If I ever want any hope of being your forever pack—"He stops and swallows. "If I want you to even have the ability to choose us later, I have to show restraint now. I have to prove I'm worthy of you."
The words crassh over me. My body is pulling in two directions at once, angling closer into Malcolm while simultaneously pulling toward Alex, toward the man who shouldbe my pack lead and who is standing three feet away looking at me like I'm something precious he's terrified of breaking.
I wonder if this would be the same without the scent match. If this is the same feeling that Ragon and his pack felt for Marie. If it's something uncontrollable or something chosen. It's impossible to tell.
But I hope it's real. All of it… even though I still don't know what to do with it.
Alex sits back down slowly, like it costs him. The purr behind me steadies, Malcolm's arms haven't loosened.
Through the window I can just make out movement inside—Rhys passing through the hallway, doing whatever he does when the house is quiet. He glances out once. Takes in the three of us on the porch. Moves on. He knows what this is and he doesn't need to be part of it.
That's the thing about Rhys. He always knows what not to be part of.
"I need to talk to Drake," I say finally.
Malcolm's purr cuts off. A sharp growl rumbles out before he pushes it back down. "No."
"He can't sit on the couch forever."
"Let him sit there." His arms tighten. "He doesn't get to talk to you until you're ready."
"I am ready. I need to know what happened."
Alex speaks up. "She's right."
Malcolm turns his glare on him, but Alex holds it steadily. "She needs answers. And he's strong enough now."
"I don't give a fuck if he's strong enough—"
"Malcolm." The pack lead edge comes through, final. "Let her go."
The war in Malcolm's eyes is visible—the protectiveness, the fear of what Drake might say. Slowly, reluctantly, his arms loosen.
"I'm coming with her," he says.
"No. We'll be right here on the porch. If she needs us, we're there in seconds." Alex looks at me. "If it gets to be too much, we'll come in."
I nod and stand. My legs feel shaky.
I walk to the door like I'm headed to the executioner's block.
Drake is sitting up, not slumped against the pillows like he's been for days. He still looks too thin and too pale, but better. His eyes find me the moment I step inside.
