But because I’ve studied the rest of them and their unique dynamics over the last several weeks, I see the benefit in it. Each of these men aren’t simply ‘part of the pack,’ they’re people with individual personalities and problems. The only reason they work well as a whole isbecausethey’re so wildly different. They pick up the slack where one of the others is failing, even if it’s only in order to one-up them. They’re able to identify each other’s weaknesses, and then push that person to their limits in order to make them stronger to benefit not only them, but the pack as a whole.
I may not be the strongest, but if you consider my abilities, I’m potentially the most lethal. Still, I’m currently the weakest link because I want to curl up in a depressed ball and sleep until our problems go away, and though it makes my stomach flip to admit, I’m the common denominator keeping this pack together. If something were to happen to me, it would implode, so it’smyfault that the guys are so far up my butt I can’t turn around without tripping over one of them. Instinctually, they’re driven to protecting their vulnerable spot.
And like Cinjin annoys the fuck out of Slade when he’s busy beating himself up so that he can latch onto anger to get him through, Hunter does the same for me. Protective, but always picking fights over little things to keep me from growing complacent. Respectful when it counts, yet making me feel needy and weak when I need it most, because better I’m ticked off and arguing with him than depressed.
Nothing involving wolves can ever be simple because we’re neither human, nor shapeshifters. We’re a different breed of beasts entirely; living nightmares fueled by suffering, chasing the fantasy of peace. Even knowing it could never really fill the void in our souls, we continue to torture ourselves, because at least the pain reminds us that we’re alive.
“Thanks,” I whisper, hoping he’ll understand the depths of my meaning without me needing to delve deeper into it.
As he huffs out a breath on the back of my neck that instantly raises my hackles and makes me clap a hand over the crawling sensation at the nape of my neck, I whirl around with a glare. But my retort dries up on my tongue when I see the quiet amusement in his eyes before he walks right on past without waiting for me this time.
Following behind him with a sigh, I return to camp, but I’m too wound up now to go back to sleep. The fire’s burned down to smoldering embers clinging to life, but still gives off enough warmth that I’m not the only one it’s drawn in.
“Can’t sleep either?”
Kaige looks up from where he’s prodding at the ashen wood with a stick, pretending as if he hadn’t heard me coming so I can hold onto my delusions of privacy. “Nah, too quiet for my liking. Hard to sleep when it’s dead silent save for the bit of wildlife brave enough to get close to camp.”
A small smile pulls at the corner of my lips as I take a seat beside him on the bench. “Same. I usually fall asleep with the TV on for background noise.”
“I know.”
My amusement dissipates in a puff of smoke with how easily his declaration came. We’ve barely spent any time together, but just because I was wrapped up in work doesn’t mean we weren’t living in the same house for a month. I condemned the wolves as being cursed for being so self-absorbed, but I’m not really any better, am I? Can’t see the forest for the trees.
“Can I-” as he looks up at me, I swallow. “Would you be willing to do me a favor?”
Setting down his stick, he slowly runs his gaze over me from head to toe, as if searching for injury like he did the first day he showed up on the Hawthorne’s doorstep. Lost in his own thoughts, he doesn’t respond for a solid minute. “Shoot.”
And for whatever reason, I completely freeze, my anxiety spiking.
‘If you can’t survive without relying on someone else, they have the ability to destroy you.’My mother’s voice is a toxic whisper, amplifying with every reverberation.‘What about when they grow tired of putting in the effort? You’ll have nothing,benothing except their broken toy.’
This time, the rest of the conversation gradually comes back to me, and it’s no wonder why I repressed it for so long.‘Trust me, men are many things, but patient isn’t one of them. You’re better off on your own, because anyone you date will get sick of tiptoeing around your mood swings sooner or later, Sabrina. May as well accept it now; people only want things they think they can control. As soon as you become more trouble than you're worth, your value plummets in their eyes. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re high maintenance; emotionally draining. Men would rather throw money at a problem than put in the effort to solve it, so you best get used to figuring shit out on your own.’
“Sabrina?” Kaige’s hand on my shoulder startles me out of my reverie. “What do you need? If it’s not something I can help with, I’ll find someone who can.”
There’s something in the way he phrases it that helps settle my skyrocketing nerves. Not ‘what’s wrong with you,’ or ‘what do you want?’ But what do Ineed?It's okay to need things. Food, water, shelter; basic requirements don’t require feeling guilty about. If I can reconfigure my issues in my head so that they don’t feel like frivolous requests or extras, then they’re safe to ask for. Not burdens; necessities. And right now, as much as I wish it weren’t true, getting my head on straight really is necessary before this confrontation with my potential sperm donors. If I’m a broken mess that’s one wrong comment away from bursting into tears, I’m never going to survive a place renowned for killing people that speak out, when that’s half of my personality.
“I need you to check to see if she's still in there. Not mojo me into calming down, but get a feel of what’s going on with my murderous alter ego?”
Though he’s clearly confused, he agrees without hesitation. Shifting to face me fully, he places a hand on my collarbone, and I pause. Kaige can manipulate people’s wolves without needing to touch them.
But he can’t manipulate any of the men I’ve claimed, and he’s never attempted to voodoo me since my wolf came out to play. Maybe he needs to make contact to get a sense of what’s going on, now.
Or maybe he’s using it as an excuse to test the waters after our conversation earlier.
Closing his eyes, he hums under his breath, keeping the silent tranquility of night at bay. I remain completely still, attempting to steady my breathing, and use the opportunity to study him. Despite the tense situation, his muscles remain languid, as if he doesn’t have a single concern about what he might find. His calm confidence is contagious, and soon, I find myself relaxing under his touch.
No matter what answer he gives me, it’ll be better than not knowing.
Eyes popping open, he gives me an easy-going smile. “From what I can sense, she’s simply lying low and recovering. There should be no reason you can’t access her if you need to, but I don’t think she’ll force the issue for a bit. Like you, she’s licking her wounds; proud things, our wolves.”
Blowing out a relieved breath, my eyelids fall shut. “But she’s not running the show? You’re positive?”
He waits until I open my eyes to face him to respond, and I’m not sure how to interpret his expression. “No, Sabrina. You are absolutely, without a doubt, in control.”
“Sure doesn’t feel like it.” My stomach flips, and my gaze flits down to where he’s still pressing his palm against my collar. “I’m not sure if this is good or bad news, if I’m being honest.”
Slowly, he withdraws his hand, but it leaves a phantom pressure behind in his absence, the warm patch of skin rapidly cooling. “Because you’d rather blame all of the things you’re feeling on her?”
