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I’ll show her how much better off she is without being attached to Atticus Phoenix.
She blinks slowly, those long, thick black eyelashes of hers covering her beautiful brown eyes. She’s got a pretty face, even if it’s thin, and those heart-shaped lips would look good around my—
I shake my head, not sure why I’m having these thoughts when my dick is fucking broken.
She can’t wrap them around my cock if it’s a soft, ugly mole rat.
She smells like cherries, and the sweet smell makes my nose itch. I hate it. It’s disgusting.
Cherries are no longer my favourite fruit. She is.
No. Fuck that. Why is my brain trying to betray me? She’s nothing to me.
But I sort of owe her a present, since I’m the reason her mate is probably going to die. Don’t get me wrong, he deserves it, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to feel the pain of their bond snapping.
I couldn’t leave her there to die. I don’t know why. I’ve got no qualms about doing that to my brother.
Honestly, despite the dart that says otherwise, I did just come here to watch him die.
It would soothe a balm on my soul.
And if he took a few of the hunters out in the process? Well, he’s just making my job easier.
I’ve been warring with the indecision for the last few days, knowing that I have no idea what I’m going to do. Atticus deserves to die, and I did plan on letting his woman be collateral damage.
Until I got my eyes on her and saw how fucking tiny she is, how fragile and vulnerable. She reminds me of Lainey in a way that I don’t understand since they’re completely different people.
Lainey was none of those things. She was strong and powerful, knew her own mind, and didn’t hide behind me.
If I couldn’t smell the wolf on the woman in front of me, if I didn’t see her actually shift, I’d have no idea she was actually part of our world. She’s tiny lying here in front of me, naked as the day she came into this world. Fucking tiny.
I crouch down beside her, mumbling my apologies as I run my hand down her cheek. I’m feeling a little bit of guilt about dosing her with what I did, especially considering she’s going to be out for a while. I didn’t plan on taking her with me, but the dosage I gave her, well, let’s just say that it was designed for Atticus.
And as much as my brother’s a fucking cunt, he does have a good foot and a half on this girl.
I lift her into my arms, ignoring the purr from my lion, who thinks this just feels right. He’s wrong.
She’s done nothing to earn our attention, nothing to earn our intrigue.
She mumbles for Atticus, telling me he’s dying, and I don’t know what possesses me to lie to her, but I do.
“He’s already dead, little darkling,” I say. And with a promise I hate myself for making, I add, “Don’t worry. I’ll not let you meet the same fate.”
I can make that promise truthfully, though. I know my fellow hunters don’t truly care about her. At the moment, they’re focused on Atticus. He’s the powerhead here, and they stupidly think that by taking him out the pride will be weak enough for them to attack.
Idiots.
Even I wouldn’t go up against Orson. I’d beat the bear black and blue, but the cunt is wily. He’ll have the pride protected.
Atticus might be the first cat in our line to choose a bear for his second, but he was smart in doing so.
I cradle Nora to my chest and walk through the woods, whistling as I go. There’s nobody around, not for a good few miles.
It’s perfect.
I gently place her in the backseat of my car, wrapping a blanket over her, and even going as far as to tuck a hoodie under her head so she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.
I glare at it once it’s done, hating that my instincts forced me to do that. She’s asleep. She’s not going to care.
