But I’d been moving on autopilot, the need to see her, scent her, feel her driving everything else to the background.
I know she’s safe and unharmed. My pack made sure to keep me up to date on how she was doing, the same way I kept them up to date on what I learned. Which again, was frustratingly little.
I hesitate. Torn between getting cleaned up and seeing my mate.
She’ll be asleep,I tell myself. It's so late. Surely my pack tucked her into bed and cuddled her close to help soothe any nightmares she might have after the events of the evening.
I’ll just peek in on them to reassure myself that she’s well, and then I’ll shower and join them. She never has to know I spent hours brutalizing the man who almost took her from me.
Decided, I turn the handle and slip inside on silent feet. Or as silent as I can manage given my size. There’s a light on in the sitting room, and as I step inside, I draw up short again. They’re all there. All five of them sprawled out on the sectional, still wearing their finery. Forsythe’s head snaps up as I enter, his brown eyes running over me before he nods once and slides his gaze back to Florence.
She’s stretched out between Courtland and Piers. Her front half on the former, her legs draped over the lap of the latter. They’re both clutching her as though they're worried she might slip away.
Thayer pushes to his feet as quietly as he can manage, but Florence still stirs from her doze, nuzzling into Court’s neck.
“She refused to go to bed,” Thayer whispers when he reaches my side. “Said she needed to be sure you were okay before she could fully settle anyway. Wouldn’t even let us get her into more comfortable clothes.”
My throat closes up at his words, going incredibly tight as though I’m on the verge of tears. I look at him helplessly, then back to Florence as she shifts again, murmuring something incomprehensible. “I know, mate,” he murmurs, clapping me gently on the back. “Believe me I know. She’s so bloody perfect.”
“Grieves?” My name is mumbled, as she’s still half asleep, but it makes my heart throb.
Court cuddles her closer. “He’s here, love. You wanna see him? Verify for yourself that he’s okay? Then we can get you tucked up in bed, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she whispers. And then bolts up to sitting, like his words just fully registered. She jerks her head around until she’s looking at me with wide worried eyes. And a second later she scrambles up over the back of the couch, Piers and Courtland curse and hold her steady as she does.
“Grieves.” My omega lets out a relieved sigh as she rushes toward me, only to draw up short when I hold up one blood covered hand.
“Don’t, bubbles. Not until I can get clean. Don’t want to get your pretty dress dirty.”
She frowns at the red on my knuckles, the splatters over my shirt. “Is any of that yours?”
I shake my head. “The bastard tried to shoot me.” Ren makes a choked whining sound and I’m quick to reassure her. “Missed me, though, omega. I’m okay.”
She shifts on her feet, her eyes running over me, like she’s checking me for injuries in case I’m lying. After a moment, she shakes her head. “Don’t care about the dress.” And then she throws herself at me. I catch her helping her scramble up my body, her arms go around my neck and her legs around my waist, as my blood covered hands grip her tight.
She’s shaking and trembling and taking huge inhales of my scent, her nose pressed right against my neck.
“Shh, omega. I’m okay. I promise, I’m okay.” I hold her a little tighter, when a low keening noise pulls from her, setting my alpha on edge all over again, demanding that I fix it. “What do you need? Hmm? What can your alpha do to make this better?”
She pulls back and glares at me. “Don’t you ever fucking run after an armed gunman again. Do you hear me? I won’t survive the stress. You have guards for a fucking reason, bruiser. You can’t put your life in danger like that! I need you too much! I-I love you, Grieves, and I wouldn’t be able to survive losing you.”
And I’m bloody done for. Not that I wasn’t already.
If I were to die right now, in this moment, after hearing this bloody glorious creature tell me she loves me, I think I would die a happy man.
But I’m not dying. I’m certainly not dead, and so it’s no surprise to me when my cock swells and kicks against the fly of my slacks, aching to be buried in the sweet heaven of my mate.
“Say it again.” The demand startles me, even though it came from my mouth.
“I love you,” she repeats, knowing exactly what I need, and my fingers dig into her fabric covered arse in response. “I want you to know that. Whatever else happens. And this isn’t… It isn’tbecause I was so fucking terrified of losing you. I don’t want you to think that. It's a true, genuine feeling. One I’ve had for a long time. I just wasn’t ready to say it… to any of you.”
With those words, she glances over her shoulder at my pack, still lingering where they were when I came in. I can’t stop the growl that climbs up my throat, needing her attention to be on me.
Those pretty kaleidoscope eyes of hers flash back to me in an instant, but not from fear. Its amusement I see in the curl of her lips, in the arch of her brow. My alpha settles when she’s looking at me.
I shouldn’t keep touching her, shouldn’t slide my fingers into the heavy fall of her hair, not when I have the blood of the man who tried to take her from me on my hands. But even as I have the thought, some primitive, feral part of me delights in it. In marking her with the blood of our—her—enemies.
Like I’m showing her with every red streak in her honey blond hair, on her peachy pink skin, that I will do anything to protect her.
