Mal’s brain came to a screeching halt. “No.” They were not talking about mates. His wolf, selfish fucker, was ready and willing to talk about it. Mal, however, would never do it—never. “Next?”
There was a slight hesitation before she asked, “Will I ever see my brother again?”
Mal drew in a deep breath, fighting his wolf until his hold eased on her. He didn’t like how empty his arms felt, how cold the air was. But he stepped back, ignoring the fact that he took her hand in his. “No.”
“But?”
“He’s connected with the Others. Until we know why and how, you’d be putting yourself in danger.”
She was staring at him. “The Others?”
“Two.”
“Mal, please.” She tugged his hand.
He looked down, studying the way her fingers threaded through his, locking them together. Like his bite. She had no idea she was his pack now, or what that meant. She could have a family, children, and a life—but if he called, wanted her to do something, she’d have to obey. They were forever tangled up in each other. She should know about the Others.
“The Others are our enemies. The cage. Your kidnapping. The guy that stabbed you. They will hunt us down and hurt us.” He spoke clearly. “They know how to hurt, trust me.”
“I do.” She nodded.
Those two words gave him pause. She squeezed his hand, smiling.
“Can you tell me where we’re going?”
“Too many questions.” He smiled back.
“Dear God, it’s just not fair,” she spoke so softly he had to lean forward to hear her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He frowned. “Tell me.”
Her eyes went round. “You’re gorgeous. When you smile, I-I think about that kiss. I want you to touch me.” She tugged her hand free, her hands fisted at her side.
He stared at her, then her mouth. Her words had an immediate impact, making him hard and throbbing. “We need to keep going,” he ground out.
His wolf didn’t want to move. His wolf wanted to do exactly what she’d said. To touch her. Fine, he’d appease them both. He stepped closer, taking her hand in his—touching her. The contact of her skin against his felt too good. Too natural. He cleared his throat and held their hands up between them.
Her slow smile weakened his resolve to stop there. She nodded, squeezing his hand.
“You ready now?” he asked.
They walked for a good ten minutes before she asked, “Mal?”
He grinned. “Olivia?”
“Do you think my brother knows they’re werewolves?” she asked. “I’m not sure he did. Sort of hard to believe this is real.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “The Others use intimidation as incentive. I guess it depends on how in he is with them, what sort of goods he’s supplying them. I’d think showing him what they are and what they’re capable of would keep him in line.” He glanced at her. “Any way to find out what he was getting them?”
“I’d need a name to start with,” she said, looking at him.
The Others tarnished everything. Just telling her his name felt wrong. “Cyrus.” Mal spat out the word.
Olivia paused. “Cyrus White?” she asked. “Creepy guy with pale eyes and light blond hair and a problem respecting personal space? Chase called him the Norwegian giant.”