Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood 3)

“No. Just the warehouse. It will look like a break-in and the fire was set to cover it. He’s destroying the video feed and taking care of the…” Dante shrugged. “Evidence that might be hard to explain.”

Hollis shook his head. “I don’t want to know.” Gentry’s passion for firearms and explosives had saved their asses on numerous occasions. He wasn’t thrilled about putting his research of the billions of dollars of equipment at risk, but Gentry was a professional.

“Good idea. Then you don’t have to lie when the cops and insurance ask questions,” Mal clapped him on the shoulder. “But we should kick it into high gear.”

“Get dressed and we’ll go.” Finn led them from the room.

Ellen stood on the far side of the lab, braced. As much as he wanted to break the tension between them, he didn’t know how. She’d hurt him, deeply, when she’d broken her word to him. Didn’t she know what could have happened? His wolf longed for her touch, longed to be closer to her. And, dammit, angry or not, so did he.

Her gaze found his, then fell.

He closed the distance between them, assessing her with a quick once-over. She’d survive. But seeing her battered, knowing someone had laid hands on her, made his blood boil. “Let me look at your head,” he murmured, distracted by the blood staining her shirt. “You might need stitches.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not,” he argued.

“I am, Hollis.” She stared at him.

He ignored her, brushing away her hands and leading her under his lamp. The fluorescent bulb hummed, hurting his ears and rubbing against his already raw nerves. It didn’t help that she was staring at him. One blue eye, one green eye, so intent he could hardly think straight let alone determine if she needed stitches or not. “What?” he snapped.

“You’re so angry with me,” she whispered.

She had no right to look sad. No right to tears. “I am,” he ground out, his jaw clenching as he fought for control. It was too raw, too real to talk about. Not yet.

Her hands cradled his face. “Don’t be.”

Eyes pressed shut, he managed to hold back his anger and sadness, fear and frustration. Barely. “Don’t.” His breath powered out of him.

“You can’t stay mad at me. You can’t. You would have done the same thing. You are mine. I am yours.” Her grip tightened, demanding he look at her.

And when he did, the spark of anger in her eyes was mesmerizing. And infuriating. “You are mine.” He growled, pulling away from her to tug up her shirt. “And this is mine.” He pressed his hand against her flesh. “My child. A child you promised to protect.”

She opened her mouth. then squeezed her lips tight.

He waited, hoping she’d argue. If he couldn’t tear into someone physically, he’d damn well welcome a verbal throw down. He was pissed as hell at her, but so fucking relieved that she was okay. That they were okay. It stole the air from his lungs to know that they might actually have a future together. Beneath his hand was the evidence of their bond—one strong enough to recover from whatever life threw at them. Not that he was ready to forgive her yet. No, he was too fired up. Too overwhelmed.

Someone cleared their throat.

“We ready?” Finn asked.

He turned to find all eyes on them. Dante, Anders, Kim, and Finn. All watching and waiting, wearing various expressions.

“Yes,” he answered, dropping the hem of her shirt and spinning away from her. “Give me a minute to get a few things. I’ll meet you downstairs and we can go home.”

…

She wanted five minutes alone with him. Since they’d left the blazing warehouse, they’d been moving. From car to hotel, hotel to car, car to plane, plane to car, and—finally—arriving at the refuge. Always with the pack, never alone. He made sure of that. The more he kept them apart, the more irritated she grew.

Now they were home, the pack reunited, and still he kept his distance.

If he was going to be a stubborn ass, then she would not waste time trying to make amends. Instead, she’d be useful. Finn and Brown were already looking for activity from the remaining Others. They’d gathered in Finn’s office to talk strategy and preparation.

It would take time for news of Cyrus’s death to spread. He’d always kept the Others fragmented and scattered since smaller groups were easier to control. Using Brown and Gentry’s connections, they had plenty of eyes and ears ready and willing to help track the remaining Others.

“Nothing I like better about the hunt than the chase,” Gentry said, leaning against Finn’s desk. “We’ll find ’em. If any of them look like trouble, I’ll call in.”

“Chances are they’ll scatter.” Ellen ran her finger along the map that covered the conference table. As far as she knew, she’d traveled to every one of the Others’ dens. Cyrus had taken her with him, introducing her to his seconds—sharing her with those he truly favored. Her skin twitched, shoving aside those memories best forgotten. But she’d learned something important. While most of his favorites were ambitious and driven, none of them were capable of being an Alpha. Without Cyrus, their pack would cease to exist.