He called out as he left. A few moments later, shuffling and cries of alarm echoed from deeper in camp, and more shifters raced into the woods.
Cillian watched them, looking to see if any of the wolves were running back into camp. None did. They all extracted themselves from the fight and sprinted into the woods, disappearing from view.
“We’re going to need to round them up,” Camden said, coming to stand next to him. A long gash ran along the side of his neck and down along his collarbone. “So they don’t cause any more trouble. I don’t want the Night Pack to make another resurgence in a few years and have to deal with all this again.”
“I’ll send out patrols to scout the area,” Franco said. “They’ll be able to find them all, no problem.”
Cillian nodded, barely listening. At the moment, he had a much bigger priority. He hadn’t seen Amber since the fight began. He needed to find her, to see that she was all right. He wouldn’t be able to think of anything else until he could reassure himself that she was unharmed.
He wandered in the direction he had seen Eric’s man drag Amber. After a moment, he heard the muffled, annoyed sounds of someone struggling, coming from one of the nearby tents. Slowly, he pushed back the flap.
Amber was sitting on the ground, hands still behind her back. Whoever had dragged her in here had bound her feet before leaving to make sure she didn’t make a break for it duringthe fight. She was wriggling her arms, clearly trying to see if there was any give in the rope.
Her head snapped around toward the door when Cillian stepped in. The anger and hostility in her expression and posture evaporated, replaced with relief.
All of Cillian’s anxiety began to ebb at the sight of her. She had a few scrapes and bruises, but otherwise appeared unharmed. He raced over to crouch in front of her. She was staring at him as if she thought he was a dream. Then her eyes widened, her features creased in concern as she took in every injury. She saw his arm and sucked in a breath.
“It’s worse than it looks,” he said with a flippant smirk. “I’m fine.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her forehead and pulled out the gag.
“Thank god,” she said. “I thought you were going to die—”
“Almost did once or twice,” he admitted, smirking. He bent to untie the ropes around her ankles. “But that happens. Besides, I’m still here. I’m still breathing.”
She hesitated for a moment, as if nervous to ask her next question. She forced herself to ask it, anyway. “And… Eric?”
His lips thinned. “He’s dead.”
She nodded, as if that was what she had expected to hear, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes seemed to flicker with a myriad of emotions. He couldn’t blame her. His hand ran up and down the side of her arm in soft, comforting strokes before he gently twisted her so he could undo the ropes binding her hands.
The second the ropes tumbled to the ground, she spun back around and pulled him into a hug.
“Oof,” Cillian grunted, though he instantly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, ignoring the pain from his injuries as she continued to hold him.
“I’m so sorry for running,” she said, her voice muffled in his neck. “I should have listened to you.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m the one who needs to apologize. If I hadn’t been such an ass, you wouldn’t have felt the need to run in the first place. I should have handled that better instead of just not listening to you and then throwing you into your bedroom.” He pulled back to look at her fully, his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I never should have done that. I fucked up. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt or putting yourself in danger. I acted like an idiot.”
“You did,” she agreed, her eyes sparking with amusement. “But I was an idiot, too. You were right that I couldn’t keep running. I just didn’t want to listen. I was scared, though I shouldn’t have been.”
“I can understand why you would be,” he said. “And I won’t chastise you for it. The only fault I can find with any of this is that you weren’t able to see how strong you were.”
He tugged her closer, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She leaned against him, seeming not to care that he was covered in filth.
They remained like that for a long time, both savoring being in each other’s presence. After a moment, he straightened, an idea occurring to him. He glanced behind him as if he could see the still-smoldering tent through the fabric of the one they were in.
He turned back to her. “Out of curiosity, were you the one who set the tent on fire?”
Pink flooded her cheeks, and she glanced away. “Um. Maybe.”
“How?”
“I might have thrown a couple of branches from the fire onto it.”
Cillian stared at her for a long moment, the words taking a moment to sink in. Then he burst into laughter.
“You are incredible, you know that?” he asked. Before she could respond, he tugged her toward him and pressed his lips to hers.
She melted against him, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, her lips conveying a mix of emotions. He held her against him for a long time, relishing the taste of her. He could have stayed there for hours. Eventually, though, he broke away from her. For the briefest of moments, he considered holding back, the way he always did. Except he wasn’t going to, not this time. She deserved the truth. He wanted her to know the truth.
