Tanner raised a brow. “But will she be alive, or will she have her throat slit like Flanagan?”
“Hopefully, she’s alive, because I have some delightful things in mind for her,” said Jolene, her voice pure silken menace. “This whole thing has shaken up everyone. We’re not used to our own betraying us this way.” Jolene gestured at the trauma room. “Go see her.”
Pushing open the door, Devon stepped into what closely resembled a hospital emergency room. Pamela lay very still on the bed, eyes closed, lips parted, her skin so pale it made her orange hospital bracelet look almost neon—orange being “code” for patients who could be a danger to themselves.
A slender woman looked up from her magazine and smiled at Devon and Tanner, but she didn’t leave her chair until Jolene reassured her that they’d be fine alone with Pamela.
Swallowing, Devon crossed to the bed and took her mother’s limp hand. It was cold and thin. “Mom.” Her voice cracked, so she coughed to clear her throat. “Mom.”
Pamela’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing bloodshot eyes that quickly lit with recognition. “Devon,” she breathed. Her lips slowly curled into a blinding but shaky smile, as if she lacked the energy to keep it on her face. “I don’t feel too good,” she added, her voice weak and subdued.
“I know.” Devon gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to be okay.” God, it was horrible seeing her this way. Her mother never looked fully alert. Her eyes always seemed cloudy and could sometimes be disturbingly vacant. But she was never groggy or physically weak. Right then, Pamela looked like she’d had the life sucked out of her.
Pamela squinted, eyes dancing from object to object. Confusion marred her features, and it was clear she didn’t know where she was or why she was there. “Who’s the man by the door? Don’t recognize him,” she slurred.
“That’s Tanner Cole. He’s my mate.”
“Mate,” Pamela quietly echoed, but it was like the word didn’t really penetrate in her mind because she didn’t otherwise react. “Do you remember when we went sailing with Beck and Richie? You were four, I think. It was a beautiful day. You were convinced you saw a whale.”
A faint nostalgic smile crept onto Devon’s face. “I remember.”
“Beck stopped the boat at a cove. It was all dark and shiny and magical. He told you to throw a coin into the little spring there and make a wish. You made a wish that I’d get better.” Her eyes drifted shut, and she forced them open. “I tried, you know. Tried over and over. Never could make your wish come true, though.”
Devon’s throat thickened. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Her eyes slid to Tanner. “My girl’s special.”
“I know,” he said.
“You treat her like she’s special.” Her eyes involuntarily drifted shut again. “I would’ve done it, but I couldn’t.”
“Sleep now,” Devon whispered. “You need it.”
“You’ll come back?” she asked, eyes still closed, sounding half-asleep.
“I’ll come back.”
Once Pamela had drifted off to sleep, Devon slipped out of the room and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna kill the fucker for this, Tanner. Blood relative or not, I’ll fucking kill them.”
“I’ll help you,” he said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“A naked day?”
Lying beside his mate on the bed the next morning, Tanner smoothed his hand down her bare arm, marveling at how silky-soft her skin was. His ego got a real kick out of seeing her all loose and lazy and sated. “Yeah. We’ve both got the day off work, you don’t want to go anywhere, we’ve got no visitors coming, so why not just spend the day naked?”
“And what could we possibly do to keep ourselves occupied while naked?” she asked, eyes sparkling.
Mouth curling into a lopsided smile, he lowered his face to hers and whispered, “Wicked, wicked things.”
“Wicked? I like wicked.”
Chuckling, he kissed her, licking into her mouth and savoring her. She tasted like sin and the coffee he’d made earlier in the hope that the smell would lure her out of sleep. He’d wanted to wake her by lashing her clit with his tongue, but he’d learned early that his hellcat needed caffeine before she’d be amiable to … well, anything.
After making her come with his mouth, he’d fucked her slow and hard until she came with a choked cry that he felt in his balls. They’d then lay there for a while—kissing, stroking, whispering, and teasing.
It didn’t seem possible that one person could wrap around his soul, but she had. And, if he was honest, she’d done it a long time ago—he’d just taken some time to accept it. Now that he had, now that he’d dropped the walls that she’d been hammering at for years just by being her, she’d filled him up in a way he couldn’t explain. Brought peace to his demon, which was plain miraculous.
Currently, the hound was still and quiet, content to just be with her. And, of course, it relished being the center of her attention—something it didn’t like to share.