Page 201 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Cassie’s lashes fluttered. “Ian?”

“I’m here.”

Her voice was thick with sleep and medicine. “You left.”

“Ronan needed me.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes opened halfway. They were unfocused, but even drugged she searched my face. “Something happened.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

I brushed the backs of my fingers along her cheek, avoiding the cut. “Sleep.”

Her hand tightened weakly around mine. “You feel wrong.”

The words went through me. Of course I did. Even half asleep, she felt the place where I had begun stepping back from the binding. She felt the grief I could not let into the room. If she woke fully, she would see too much. Cassie always did.

So I gave her what she needed most.

Calm.

I loosened my shoulders. Slowed my breathing. Let my voice settle into the low cadence that had soothed the binding on the first night, before I knew the comfort might not be mine to give.

“Silas was behind the hunt,” I said.

Her eyes sharpened a little. “We knew that.”

“Now we know enough to look for him.”

“Evelyn?”

“Contained.”

“Good. I hope someone gives her a rash.”

My chest hurt. Only Cassie could lie in bed bruised from a murder attempt and wish an enemy a rash with more venom than some wolves brought to a blood feud.

“I will pass that along to Sava.”

“Do. She’ll know how.”

Her eyes drifted closed, then opened again with effort. “My family?”

“They are pushing to see you.”

She tried to sit up.

I stopped her gently, one hand on her shoulder, no pressure beyond a reminder. “No.”

“My dad?”

“Loud.”

“That tracks.”

“Tessa is asking questions.”