Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“No.” She looks at me in surprise at my sharp declaration. “I appreciate the chance to work on my abilities in a safe place, but if it comes with strings attached, thanks, but no thanks. If my mateswantto help you, that’s one thing, but you aren’t forcing them in exchange for letting us stay here. If that’s the way this is going to go, we’ll just leave and figure something out ourselves.”
She cants her head. “You’d throw away the chance to see if anyone here knows your parents?”
Emotion clogs my throat. What orphan doesn’t dream about getting closure? But not at the cost of the men I love suffering to get it.
“Either they’re dead, or they’re alive and abandoned me. Doesn’t change anything, and if you’re the kind of person that would hold something like that over someone’s head to manipulate them, you need to take a long, hard look in the mirror.”
Shock slowly morphs into a wry smile, and she dips her head, respect shining in her gaze. “You’re right. I was caught up in how I’d pitch outsiders joining the community after they attacked our people to keep the peace here, and was brainstorming aloud when I should have known better. Forcing people goes against the very essence of why this compound was created; to protect our people’s freedom.”
Before I can get a word in edgewise, Elder Naomi barks, “Cohen,” turning to one of her guards. “Arrange for another mattress and some clothes to be brought to Bellamy’s apartment, please. And inform the kitchen that we have three more mouths to feed.”
Protests spark up instantly, her guards vehemently objecting allowing the men that just attacked them to stay. But Naomi squashes those protests brutally and effectively. “Are you telling me if your mate was missing, you wouldn’t cut down anyone in your path to save them?” As they press their lips into furious lines, she continues, “Now, if someone would fetch the healer, it appears he has his work cut out for him this evening.”
Arson levels a maniacal grin at a soldier shooting us dirty looks. "Keep looking at my mate like that and he'll be even busier."
* Non Playable Character. Typically used as an insult. (As in not the main character/ zero personality.) Similar to calling someone Townsperson A, Townsperson B, etc.
Chapter 7
Ledger
Islam the door behind me, fed up with all the bullshit. Every single person that gave my mate a sidelong glance on our way down here, and each person glowering like they were considering me a threat that needs to be neutralized, has every one of my instincts on high alert.
Fighting back murder, I bury my face in the crook of my mate’s neck and suck down a ragged inhale. “I hate this. For all we know, they’re going to try to trap us down here so we can never leave.”
She makes a soothing sound in the back of her throat, humming as she works my hair band out and runs her fingers through the untamed length of my hair.
My wolf surges to the surface, her soft touches stoking the wild aggression coursing through my veins. Fueling the frantic need to protect the one soft, sweet thing in our lives. I canfeelthe moment that mad desperation takes on a feral edge that blackens the edges of my vision, pushing me dangerously close to a rut.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Not now.
Nothere.
“Ledger?” she asks, concerned.
An aggressive haze settles over my vision.Everythingsuddenly feels like a threat; especially the other men in this room. But I’m able to curb that enough to realize that it’s the strangers that are the bigger threat, and I need to lock this place down before I lose myself entirely. Holding my mate possessively against my side, I use my free hand to drag the pitiful excuse for furniture in front of the main door, my brain stuck on a loop of ‘not safe.’
The white haired one frowns at me and extends his arms. “Why don’t I take her while you do… whatever the fuck you’re doing?” My snarl is ripped from the depths of my soul, the vicious sound bouncing around the stone walls. His hands fly up in surrender. “Fuck,fine,you psycho. Make it harder on yourself, see if I care.”
Everybody’s trying to take my mate from me. They don’t understand that she’smine.
Knot.
Rut.
Claim.
The words run on a loop like a mantra driving my actions, making sure this place is safe enough I can lose myself to my instincts. Enough awareness left to know what’s happening, yet unable to stop it. The tighter I try to hold onto my control, the faster it shreds.
I keep one ear tuned to the others in the room currently murmuring nonsense while I focus on barring the door and securing the apartment enough to calm my nerves. Chair wedged beneath the handle and couch behind to brace for impact, I test the effectiveness, pleased when it barely budges.
I’m evenmorepleased when I see the bottle of super glue peeking out of the auburn-haired one’s pocket.
Stealing it without remorse, I empty the contents on the door lock, ensuring it won’t be easily picked. I’d hear someone tampering with the mechanism, attempting to break in. No matter how distracted I am,thatwill be noticeable. And when we need to leave, I can just rip the door off the hinges. Problem solved.
