Finn had been out of his mind. He’d looked through them all, blazing with raw aggression and fueled by fear. One by one, he’d chased them down—no sign of the man he’d been. Mal’s first shift had been nothing like that. “I think Finn went through something else.”
“But that’s how you were turned? And Anders and Hollis and Dante?”
“Yes.” He wasn’t going to lie to her. “Finn lost it.”
She stood. “How do you know I won’t lose it?”
“You can’t hurt your pack. I mean, you can, but you won’t. Your wolf will know there’s no threat.” He stood, too. “There are no humans nearby.”
“Jessa?”
“Locked up and guarded.” Mal shook his head. “After tonight it won’t be like that. You and your wolf will connect and be one. You’ll learn to shift when you need to, regardless of the moon.”
“What about things I do consider a threat?” She glanced at him, anger burning in her hazel eyes. “Like Ellen.”
“I won’t stand in your way.” He’d love to see Olivia kick the bitch’s ass. “When you’re ready.”
“I won’t be tonight?” She was too goddamn gorgeous, too soft and sweet, to be a monster. If he could go back—no, he wouldn’t change a thing. She was alive and here.
He shook his head.
“Will you—will I be alone?” she asked.
His heart thudded. Never. He shook his head again. “I’ll be there.”
“With me?”
He nodded.
She smiled, covering her mouth as she yawned.
“Sleep,” he said, nodding at the large bed in the middle of their room.
“Shower.” She nodded at the bathroom, grinning broadly as she climbed onto the bed. She collapsed against the pillows with a sigh. “Heaven.”
Mal agreed. But standing here staring at her was pathetic. He forced himself from the bedroom, stripped off the undershirt and pants he’d found on the helicopter, and stepped into the steaming shower. The hot water stung, but the rhythmic rain of water eased the knots of tension from his shoulders and neck. Things were far from settled, but there was comfort in being back with Finn and the pack.
Tonight, Olivia would shift.
Tomorrow, he and Finn would talk. Beating the shit out of his Alpha had taken some of the fight out of him, but not all of it. It was time he told the pack that Ellen was gathering information about Cyrus. They’d react. They’d want answers. Hell, he wanted answers.
While Mal had a hard time believing the bitch had anything of value to offer when it came to protecting Jessa, Hollis did. If they had to bide their time until the pregnancy was done, they could. But they’d be watching her, alert, and ready for any move that might come their way.
And before Ellen died, they’d make sure to extract every piece of information they could.
The only concern that needed immediate action was how she was contacting the Others. Finn wasn’t stupid, their wireless and internet were locked-down hard-core. If she was getting information to Cyrus now, how was she doing it? Or was she planning on escaping, taking something with her besides information about them? What the hell would the Others want from them?
In the years since Finn’s pack had been infected, the Others had found the refuge once. But the entire raiding party had been killed. The refuge was just that—a refuge from their enemy and a place to be what they were away from the prying eyes of a world that would never understand. If Ellen had already compromised their location to the Others, why hadn’t they attacked? If she hadn’t given them away yet, then Mal would do whatever was necessary to keep it that way.
He turned off the shower jets, dried off, and headed back into the bedroom.
Olivia slept restlessly, her features fluid in sleep, her lips parted and cheeks flushed, the sudden hitch of breath followed by a soft gasp. His wolf wanted to touch her, so he ran his fingertips along her brow, smoothing the furrow. She turned into his touch, sighing as he pressed his palm to her cheek.
He crouched by the edge of the bed, studying her face. He cared about her, and it scared the shit out of him. She was his mate—it’s what he wanted and what his wolf craved. But being his mate meant more pain for her—something he wasn’t willing to subject her to.
But he’d cared before. Loving her, Jude, had meant her death. Finding what was left of the woman he’d planned to marry haunted him. Hate had been the only thing that mattered. Hating the Others. Hating himself. Hating Finn. Hating life.
But he couldn’t hate Olivia. Or leave her. What he felt for her was too big, too real. All the cold hardness he’d wrapped around his heart had thawed during his time with her. She’d woken him up, made him live, made him fear.