Page 39 of Binding His Fated Mates

Lee blinked. His grip on my arm loosened. Whatever he’d been expecting me to say, it wasn’t that. “You—wait, what?”

“I said I overreacted. You’re right.”

Lee stared at me for a long moment, visibly recalibrating. Then he stepped back, his expression shifting from anger to cautious surprise.

I looked past him to where Daniel stood a few yards away, watching us. His dark eyes were wide and miserable, and his shoulders were still hunched, making him look even smaller than he was.

Fuck. Something in my chest clenched tight, seeing the unhappy expression on his face.

I pushed past Lee, who trailed after me, right on my heels—probably still half-expecting me to say something terrible—and stopped in front of Daniel.

The warlock looked up at me. His expression was wary, guarded, the too-bright smile nowhere to be found. It was just Daniel, stripped bare, without his armor, waiting for the killing blow.

“I’m not apologizing for getting pissed when you give away everything you have just to make other people happy,” I said flatly. “And I’m never going to apologize for that.”

Daniel’s lips parted, surprise flickering across his face.

“But I flipped out.” The words were harder to get out than they should have been. Apologizing wasn’t exactly my strong suit. “It wasn’t cool. I could’ve handled it better. I’m…” I swallowed. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”

He stared at me blankly, as if I’d said something in another language.

Behind me, I could practically feel Lee’s shock radiating off him in waves.

“I don’t want you to feel bad,” I added. “I just don’t want to see you get taken advantage of. By anyone. Including yourself.”

Daniel was quiet for what felt like a very long time. His throat worked. He looked away, blinking rapidly. His fingertips tightened on the strap of his messenger bag.

“Okay,” he said a moment later, turning back to me. His eyes were glassy and his voice was a little unsteady. “Thanks, Hunter. Apology accepted.”

Lee stepped onto the sidewalk, fully joining us. After giving me a long, disbelieving look, he said, “We should go home.”

* * *

Back at Daniel’s cabin, the warlock made straight for his desk.

“We still need to figure out what’s happening with the pack,” he said, already pulling journals toward him. “With the sympathetic manifestations, I mean. These magical surges… Hell, Reed almost—” He broke off, his eyes widening. As if it had just occurred to him how close he’d come to death. Yet again. “Anyway. We need answers.”

I wanted to protest. For the love of all things holy, he’d just collapsed two hours ago from overexerting himself and he needed rest. But I stopped myself.

Because Daniel needed to work. It was how he processed things. It was how he convinced himself he had value. Taking that away from him right now would do more harm than good. Besides, he probably wouldn’t listen to me if I tried to stop him. He’d already made that plenty clear.

Instead of arguing with him, I said, “How about a trade?”

Daniel looked up from his notes, suspicion flashing in his dark eyes. “What kind of trade?”

“One hour of research. Then we stop, get some takeout, and then watch a few hours of mindless TV. Our cabin actually has one.”

Lee shot me another strange, searching look, before he nodded his agreement and turned back to Daniel. “You know what? I could cook, actually. I’m not too shabby in the kitchen.”

Daniel stared at us blankly, as if we’d both sprouted gossamer fairy wings and fluffy pink tutus.

“You need to make time for rest,” Lee continued. And his lips twitched when he added, “Otherwise, you’re not going to be very useful to the pack.”

Oh, Lee, you clever bastard. Apparently, he and I were in full agreement about Daniel’s tendency to overexert himself and why.

Daniel’s suspicion deepened as he looked from me to Lee and then back again. “Are you two managing me?”

“Yes, we are,” Lee said, with a perfectly straight face.