She opened her eyes, her senses processing. It felt like having an all-over rug-burn, prickly and sensitive. All the newness prodding. All overwhelming.
“Olivia?” he whispered, turning her in his arms. He was so close, so solid.
“Out of sorts.” She ran a hand over her head, pressing her fingers to her forehead to silence the sounds. “And noise.” It was a dull roar, voices, noises, rolling over her in waves. Her equilibrium was off. Her nerves stung. “Just so much feeling.” It didn’t explain things, but it was true.
His arms were heavy around her, steadying her. She leaned into him, pressing her eyes closed and shutting out everything but the solid thunk-thunk of his heart. Her hand rested on his chest, absorbing the rhythm—and the comfort of him. Because nothing said comfort like cuddling with a werewolf-man.
“Look up,” he whispered.
His softly spoken words had her looking up. Her breath caught, stunned by the brilliance of the stars in the sky. Never in her life had she seen a night so clear. Midnight blue, patches of pitch, scattered with a million brilliants. The clarity was startling, the black deep and vast and breathtaking. It was oddly exhilarating.
The moon was massive, almost full.
“Tomorrow?” she whispered. “Should I be scared? Excited?” Her fingers gripped the thick flannel jacket he wore. “Because I feel really lost.”
He didn’t say anything. What was there to say? But his hand stroked the length of her back and that was enough.
“I’m going to be okay?” she asked. “It’s okay if you lie to me, Mal. It’s just…I really need to think this is all going to be okay.”
“I don’t lie,” he argued, his tone sharp.
“Mal,” she pleaded, tugging on his shirt and staring at him in the dark.
“I never lie,” he repeated.
Those words washed over her, buoying her spirits and making it easier to breathe. For a man that used words so sparingly, those three words were exactly what she needed to hear.
“You’re going to be okay.” His hand gripped hers, tugging her forward. “Let’s go.”
To the refuge.
Where she’d be surrounded by werewolves—or crazy people that believed they were werewolves. Considering tomorrow was the full moon, she’d know soon enough if she should be scared of the crazy or the wolves. But then, she’d be a wolf, too, so there would be no reason to be scared.
How was any of this okay? Nothing felt okay. She didn’t remember what okay was at the moment. Just fear and confusion and total sensory overload.
Mal’s fingers threaded with hers. You’re going to be okay. His words weren’t the easiest to believe, but she believed him anyway.
Chapter Nine
Mal wanted to shift. He’d kept his fury caged since they’d taken him. No matter how many times they’d beaten and left him bleeding and full of silver, he’d refused to give up. Vengeance gave him something to fight for. A purpose beyond giving the Others entertainment. Now he was free. He could shift whenever he fucking felt like it. But one thing was stopping him.
Olivia.
Not that it was her fault. No, dammit, she was blameless in all of this. Innocent. A quality he’d almost forgotten existed.
If Olivia weren’t there, he’d wait for the motherfucker to come out. His wolf would stay out of sight, toy with him, then bleed the son of a bitch out and rip him into pieces so small it’d be impossible to identify who or what he once was.
But Olivia was with him.
There was no choice. He’d tuck tail and run back to Finn. Even if it was like rubbing salt in a big-ass wound. She was his responsibility. Warning Finn about the Others was his responsibility, too, dammit. He hoped Hollis was right—that the pack’s safety hadn’t been compromised. But he needed to find out for himself.
He glanced over his shoulder at Olivia. She stared, wide-eyed, around her, moving quietly and staying in his tracks. Her hand clung to his as they trudged through the snow, following his lead without thought. And he liked it a little too damn much. Maybe it was his wolf pressing his agenda on the man. Maybe it was the unnerving attraction they shared. Maybe it was because she was a decent human being that deserved to live. Whatever it was, he was beginning to—grudgingly—like having her around.
And that made things so much worse.
His wolf already knew. The traitor jumped ship before they ever got out of that damn cell. As far as he was concerned, Olivia was his pack. Worse, the animal wanted Olivia as his mate. No matter how badly Mal objected to the latter, the wolf wasn’t giving up.
They walked until the chattering of Olivia’s teeth was too hard to ignore.