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When he stepped toward me, I fell back.
He paused, frowning, then nodded. "Blaming snow blindness? Some funky mojo from these weird woods? Don't worry, I'm real. And just to prove it..."
He leapt forward before I could back away, snatched me up and kissed me. As usual, it wasn't the kind of kiss you should give your best friend's wife. As I gasped for air, I said, "Nick," and he grinned.
"I knew that'd work."
My eyes prickled, throat tightening. I'd been holding up so well, but now, seeing Nick, knowing I was safe, it was like popping the cushioning bubble that had kept me going.
He put his arms around me and pulled me against him, grip only strengthening when I murmured that I was okay and to put me down. After a moment, I gave up and let him hug me. A tear or two might have stained his parka, but we both pretended not to see it. When his arms loosened, I stepped away.
"How did you get here?" I asked.
"Hold on, let me try Clay again while I explain." He fumbled in his pocket. "Last night, when Joey drugged Clay--I can't believe he--" He shook his head. "Anyway, Jeremy knew something was wrong. You know Jeremy."
He stopped fumbling, yanked off a glove and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, checking it as he talked. "Jeremy called. No one answered in your room or on your phones. So he talked the hotel staff into opening the door and checking. Having a stranger walk into his room woke Clay up better than any phone call." He shook his phone, cursing. "Still no reception. I bet the radio isn't working either."
He exchanged the cell phone for a walkie-talkie, still talking. "We knew you guys might need emergency help, so by the time Clay woke up, Antonio already had a buddy's company jet on standby. We were on the plane with Reese."
He tried the radio. Swore. Shoved it back into his pocket and kept talking. "Jeremy is on his way, but he didn't want us to wait for him. He's taking a regular flight and leaving the kids with Jaime. Karl's supposed to be coming, but I'll believe it when I see him. They'll be a while, though. We just got here ourselves. We managed to get in touch with Clay, who was already up here searching. We found him and split up--me with Clay, Antonio with Reese."
"So where's Clay?"
"Took off. I wasn't keeping up. Next thing I know, he's gone and I'm trudging through snow up to my knees, searching for a path, a road, anything. Then I heard you."
"In other words, you got lost in the woods. Again."
He shot me a mock scowl. "No, Clay lost me in the woods. Again. And he's probably lost himself by now, the way he was going. Do you want to hunt for him? Or keep going and hope for cell service?"
I wanted to find Clay. Even the thought that he was out here was enough to make my eyes prickle again. Nick was a decent substitute, but I needed Clay--to see him, know he was safe, show him I was safe, tell him everything, then get to work.
And I wanted a hug. A long one, inhaling his scent, proving to myself that everything really was okay. There was a time I wouldn't have admitted that, much less planned to act on the impulse. Today I would.
What I had to do, though, was option two: trust that Clay was okay and keep going until we could make radio contact. If both Clay and Antonio were out of range, then I'd contact Jeremy or Karl--maybe even Hope--and have someone keep trying Antonio and Clay for me while we headed back into the forest to search for them. That was the sensible plan, so that's the one I told Nick. He didn't argue; he never did.
So we walked. I took the radio and he kept the cell phone, and we continued checking for service as I explained everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Nick accepted the existence of Shifters with little comment. It interested him no more than any minutiae of the greater supernatural world. What did get his attention was the tremor in my voice each time I mentioned Travis Tesler.
"What did this Tesler guy--?" Nick stopped himself. "No, I think I know what he did. Or tried to do, because if he'd succeeded..."
"I'd be an emotional wreck?"
"No, I was thinking more 'covered in blood and bits of the bastard.' But, yeah, after that settled, you'd be in rough shape. You'd get through it, but I'm glad you don't have to."
He tucked his glove into his pocket, and slid his bare hand into the massive mitt over mine, taking my hand inside it, that last bit of chill vanishing as my fingers entwined with his warm ones. We walked in silence, hand-in-hand. I've always liked this about Nick, a physical closeness I don't allow myself with anyone except Clay. It's a safe intimacy that some part of me craves.
It's not asexual--nothing is asexual with Nick--but it's completely nonthreatening. I'm his friend and his best friend's wife, and while that doesn't stop him from kissing me or slipping into our bed and getting friendlier than a friend should, he means nothing by it, would never push the boundaries. If Clay isn't threatened, then I know I don't need to be, because it's nothing more than it appears to be--another level of the physical play and intimacy that cement Pack bonds.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he said after a few minutes. "I know you'll talk to Clay but... maybe there are things you'd rather discuss with me?"
I nodded. "I might. And I probably will. Later. For now, I'm holding up. It just... It made me so..."
"Angry."
"Sure. It pissed me off. That's part of being a woman, I guess. If some son of a bitch wants to hurt us, he knows how to do it, and there's really nothing we can do in return, nothing on that scale."
"I don't mean you're mad at him. Of course you are, but you're more angry with yourself for letting it get to you. For not being perfect."
