od news.
“Should be safe for now,” he added. “Time to get your strength back.” His fingers stroked along her neck and shoulder.
It was amazing. She arched into his touch.
“You’re healing,” he whispered, his fingers running down her arm, pausing to rub here and there. “Scratches are almost gone.”
Scratches? Wasn’t she bleeding to death? Somehow, scratches didn’t matter. Neither did bleeding to death. She wasn’t hurting because of his touch. Why had he stopped?
“Fucking Others. Fucking bear. Fucking moon,” he growled, his fingers tracing the length of her thigh. “Fuck,” he whispered.
She didn’t know what he was talking about. He was massaging her thigh with strong, deep strokes. It was heaven. Of course, there was a very real possibility she was in heaven. Did that mean Mal was dead, too? He’d died saving her from the bear?
He couldn’t be. She whimpered.
“Rest, Olivia,” he added, his tone sharp, his breath brushing her forehead.
She relaxed against him. Her fingers and hands tingled—she flexed, breathing easier. Arms, too. Heavier than normal, but mobile. Resting held no appeal. Now that she wasn’t feeling so disembodied, she realized Mal was holding her in his lap. She pressed her nose to his collarbone, placed one hand on his chest, and blew out a shaky breath.
He tugged her closer. “This is going to be a problem.”
Her dying? Yes, it was. Because, even though she hated pain and fear and being chased and attacked, she really didn’t want to leave Mal.
“I won’t be a problem,” she whispered, her throat raw and hoarse.
He chuckled. “You already are.” But he didn’t sound upset about it.
Chapter Five
Mal’s wolf was driving him bat-shit crazy. He got that Olivia was theirs. He understood that keeping her safe was important. They were a pack, that’s the way it went. So why wouldn’t it shut up about her?
And why had she taken precedence over revenge?
The only thing that kept him from losing his mind in that godforsaken cell was imagining vengeance. In detail. Regularly.
Every time a silver needle was imbedded beneath a fingernail or claw. Every bone they’d broken, high-decibel sound they’d blasted him with, and knife they’d used on his fur—he could hardly wait to return the favor. By the time Mal became immune to one torture, they’d find something new. They knew how far they could push him without killing him. They’d told him to beg and they’d stop.
Spilling his guts about Finn and his pack wasn’t an option. No matter how pissed he was at them for leaving him behind, he’d never give them up to Cyrus and the Others. Never betray them the way they’d betrayed him. He was stubborn—his wolf was more so. No fucking way he’d beg. Ever. They’d never know they’d broken him, even if they managed it.
After they’d pummeled him senseless and left him bleeding, chained to that wall, he’d plan how he’d take them down one by one.
Killing Cyrus wasn’t enough. The motherfucker would know what it was like to be skinned. How it felt to heal, only to endure injury again and again. It would be his turn to wake up drenched in sweat and vomit, remembering the slide of that thin blade against his shoulder blades and along his spine. It would be Mal’s turn to look into Cyrus’s eyes and smile.
But now the fight had gone out of the wolf. All it wanted to do was be close to Olivia. If she was out of sight, the wolf grew angry and restless. The only time the damn animal seemed happy was when he was touching her.
Like sitting around all day was an option.
He didn’t know how long they had before the Others caught up to them, but there was no doubt they would. They’d taken him hoping to get information about Finn’s pack. When it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, their motivation changed. Getting information was secondary to hurting him. That’s when things had turned personal.
When Olivia had passed out after he’d bitten her, he’d convinced his wolf to leave her, probably because the beast knew it was for her safety. He’d saturated the site where they’d spent the night with bear blood, hoping to buy them some time. Between the smell of her infection and the bear, it might work. If they were really lucky, the Others would believe Olivia had been eaten. Then they’d only be after him. It might be possible for Olivia to avoid having the Others trailing her day-in and day-out for the rest of her life.
But what the hell would her life look like now?
She was in graduate school. She could go back to that.
What else?
Her brother? No loss there. As far as Mal was concerned, the son of a bitch could believe she was dead. He’d brought this down on her—maybe not the werewolf thing, but the attack and kidnapping. But why? What the hell were the Others doing with someone like Chase? He’d only seen flashes of him in Olivia’s mind, but he hadn’t struck Mal as a criminal mastermind. He’d seemed desperate. What sort of business could Chase have with the Others?