Page 37 of Broken

The hood gazed at him. But all Thanatos said was, “I shall need a description of the creatures, and considerably more detailed information than I have received from you so far.”

Cole knew that, but the thought of it was still exhausting. “Well, give us a minute, would you? We’ve both been mortally wounded in the last twenty-four hours, and we’re tired as fuck. So, could we have some space?”

Space was not really a term Thanatos understood, unless it was his own space. The hood gazed at him for a little longer, and finally dipped in acknowledgement.

That was another surprise. Big T had either grown a heart, or he was biding his time for reasons of his own. Probably the second one.

Gunn said, “I’ll come by later and check on Ireland. With Mikey. If she’s having trouble Changing back, Mikey might be able to help.”

Michelangela was half white wolf, and not only did she have some of the psychic abilities white wolves possessed, she was used to dealing with fucked-in-the-head shifters.

But right now, Cole didn’t want a lot of people involved in this. It was complicated enough as it was. “I’ll let you know,” he said.

“You going to be okay until then?” Gunn asked.

“Sure. If everyone leaves us alone.”

He turned to Ireland. “Come on, Tinkerbell. We’ll walk down to the compound. It’ll be good for us.”

He started to walk, and she looked at him uncertainly. He put a little alpha juice into it. “While we’re still young, if you don’t mind. I’m hungry.” The sandwich on the plane had barely made a dent.

She shook herself again, and then trotted after him.

He hoped he could get her to Change back soon. Or this was going to be a fucking nightmare.

The main compound was about half a mile or so from the airfield, all downhill, so an easy walk. Cole stayed on the soft verge, Ireland at his heels, until the transport vehicles had rumbled by. Then the quiet closed in, and he could finally take a deep breath.

It was late afternoon here—they’d lost a couple of hours flying east—but it was still early enough in the year that the sun was dropping below the trees. The air was soft, but with a hint of frost that would close in as soon as it got dark.

He loved this time of year at the Ridge, loved the crispness in the air, loved the darkness of the sky and the brightness of the stars, with no nearby cities to ruin it.

He glanced down at Ireland, wondering where she’d grown up. Was it even in this world? He knew there were other dimensions—the Dragonlands, the spirit world, and probably some world that the Fae came from. He wondered if it was different from here. Better.

He didn’t think so. Not if they’d imprison and enslave a woman just because she was half-shifter.

There had to be a way to get them both out of these damned bracelets. He’d kept the Bright Fae book a secret, because Ireland seemed to think there was an answer in there. And he wanted to know what it was before Thanatos got his stony fingers all up in the situation.

Cole was loyal to Thanatos because he’d given him and Boomer a place and a purpose, when they desperately needed both. But he wanted something from Ireland, and Cole was not at all sure he wanted to be part of that bargain.

He wanted to talk to Ireland and get a look at that book.

The cabin was pretty much like all the others at the Ridge. Open living/dining/kitchen area, bedroom and bathroom in the back.

There was a woodstove in the corner of the living room, with wood stacked next to it, and more on the porch. Also some food in containers on the counter, and probably more in the fridge, knowing Breanna.

She’d have made sure the place was stocked with everything you’d need, down to the paper towels and spare toothbrushes. Probably things he’d never have thought of until he realized they needed them.

Cole dropped the gear bags in the corner of the living room. He knew Ireland was still recovering from her wounds, so first thing was to take the chill off in here. He headed for the woodstove and built a fire, waiting for the kindling to catch before adding any logs.

Ireland’s wolf was sniffing around tentatively. “No peeing in the corners,” he told her. “Or anywhere, for that matter. You’re officially housebroken, starting now.”

She gave a little yip. Cole wasn’t sure if it was agreement or a “Fuck you.”

He found a spare blanket and laid it down by the stove for her. “Here,” he said. “Nice and warm.” As she walked over and sniffed that, he divested himself of all his personal weapons, laid out his field kit on the dining room table, and started cleaning his guns. The familiar routine cleared his mind and engaged the parasympathetic nervous system, changing it from ‘fight or flight’ mode to ‘rest and recover’ mode.

Ireland’s wolf explored the rest of the cabin, and then settled down on the blanket, but she didn’t take her eyes off him. It was like she was afraid he’d disappear when she wasn’t looking.

After he finished his guns, he rose. So did she. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “You’ll be fine here. Boomer and the others will be coming in with the mattress and shit—try not to bite them. Okay?”

She made as if to follow him to the bathroom, and he stopped and pointed at the blanket. “Seriously? No. Down. Stay. Whatever. I need some private time.”

They locked gazes, and then she went sulkily to the blanket and curled up. Sheesh. It was like dealing with a toddler. They always wanted to follow you into the bathroom. So he’d been told, anyway—he wasn’t sure he’d ever met one.

There were spare sweats in the bedroom, various sizes, and he grabbed some before going into the bathroom. He kept his shower soldier-quick. The gods knew what Ireland would get up to while he was gone.

But it wasn’t quick enough. He was just toweling off when he heard voices, and the front door opening.

And then a crash, and Ireland snarling.