“Reina?”Connor asks sleepily. He encompasses all that he wants to know simply by the way he says my pet name.
“Nolan tried to kill Gina,” I announce, running my fingers through his soft, loose curls.
“Tried?” he mumbles, his eyes drooping to slits in drowsy contentment.
Releasing a deep breath, I admit, “If I don’t do anything, he’ll succeed.”
This earns me a grunt and a tug around my waist in response.
“Yes, in normal circumstances I would happily go back to bed,” I agree, my free hand resting over his, “but if I don’t save her, Nolan goes to prison. I don’t know what kind vampires go to, but I doubt it’s pleasant.”
“Mierda,” he grumbles, releasing me so he can sit up. Rubbing his eyes, he mutters under his breath, “Cabrona estúpida.”
“Ginaisa stupid bitch,” I concur with a yawn so wide my jaw cracks. “Now let’s go. We have an attempted murder to cover up.”
The cool air nips at my bare legs as I rise from the bed. When I was snuggled up to my own personal living furnace, Connor’s soft t-shirt was more than enough to keep me warm, but it won’t do for the elements outside. I grit my teeth against the cold hardwood floors as I pad over to get my clothes from atop the dresser. I should buy a nice thick, fluffy rug for this place, something soft and warm for my feet, because this hardwood in early spring is just not cutting it.
It surprises me how quickly I’ve grown attached to this room and how much I want to make it a second home. I love living with Mildred in Felix’s old room, but there’s something magical about this place. It’s like joy and love have seeped into its very walls, which is a rare thing for this house. My hand brushes along the beautiful dresser, feeling a heady warmth from being welcomed by the pack in such a personal way.
I’m suddenly distracted by a wave of possessiveness, as well as a healthy dose of male satisfaction, that flows through the bond. A little smile curls my lips. Apparently, Connor likes the view of his mate dressed only in his shirt.
“Sorry,mi lobo,” I murmur while gathering my clothes. “Back to jeans and sweaters.”
He releases a sigh of disappointment. Turning around, I catch him stretching his arms over his head, his lean muscles shifting and flexing with the motion, and I once more curse Gina’s name. It’s his turn to smile, sensing my appreciation of his form.
Focus, Callie. Potential death. Lots of blood. Need to save Nolan.
I hurry to the bathroom to change before I do something stupid. As much as I want her dead, it’s best I don’t actually let it happen. While getting dressed and brushing my hair up into a messy bun, a plan starts to form on how I’ll accomplish cleaning up the mess with Gina. It will, however, require a little help.
To both my relief and disappointment, Connor is dressed by the time I come out. The assumption that he’s coming is both amusing and sweet. There’s no way he’d let me do this alone, not when it’s Nolan’s future that hangs in the balance.
“I have a plan,” I announce, walking over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. “It, however, requires help of the wolfy kind. Do you think anyone from the pack would be willing to assist? I know shifters and vampires don’t really get along.”
He huffs out a laugh over what must be a huge understatement while returning my hug. In a sincere voice, he answers, “Pack protects pack.”
“So they’ll help because we consider Nolan pack or because I need help and I’m pack?” I question, my head craning back to look up at his face. “Well, you’re the alpha, so it might be a moot point.”
“Nolan is pack. You are pack. They will want to help,” he assures me, playing with the strands of my hair that refuse to stay in any form of neatness.
It occurs to me how much he stands in two worlds—the pack he created while shunned, and the pack he inherited when his father died. It must be hard to fairly lead those who were never fair to him, taking time away from the pack that always cared for him. As his mate and friend, I now straddle that line too. He kisses the top of my head when he feels my own fierce possessiveness.
“I will always protect you,” I whisper.
“It is a mate’s right,” he murmurs tenderly, his hand moving to cup my face. “I am yours, and you are mine.”
A sweet shiver runs across my skin, and my heart grows soft from his words. Now that I’ve accepted the bond, things like this comfort me instead of frighten me. I also appreciate that he’s accepted that we are equals in this relationship and he is as important to me as I am to him.
“How many wolves?” he asks, interrupting my soft, fuzzy thoughts of our relationship and bringing me back to the task at hand.
“Five should do,” I answer, pulling away so I can locate my boots. I’m super grateful that I didn’t go with tennis shoes. Canvas shoes and blood just don’t mix.
“I will choose them,” Connor states, finding my boots on the other side of the dresser.
“I presume that is also a mate’s right,” I say with humor.
He flashes me a smug smirk. When I attempt to take my boots from him, he instead gets on his knees and helps me into them. Apparently, helping me dress is another mate perk.
∞∞∞
