Page 41 of Broken

Chapter 17

As good as it was to be home, it was also a relief when everyone left. Cole didn’t like too many people in his space, and even though he was used to having Boomer and Karisma around, that was when he knew he could take off and go wolf when he needed space.

Now he couldn’t. He couldn’t get that far away from Ireland, and she was too volatile to be running loose in the woods, even if he was with her.

He needed time to think—to get used to the idea he was tied to Ireland until they could figure out how to get the bracelets off. And to cut a deal with the Bright Fae to leave her the hell alone. If they didn’t want her, fine, but he was going to make sure they got their little elfin hands out of her business.

She was a shifter, and now that she’d Changed on their turf, the Outlaw Ridge pack was responsible for her until she could control her wolf.

And that meant protecting her, as well.

He watched Boomer and Karisma walk away, Boomer bumping her with his shoulder and talking like an idiot, and Karisma saying something smartass back to him that made Boomer swing her around and kiss her.

Looking at them like that made his heart tug, just a little. He knew he’d never have what they had—no way he’d ever let anybody close enough. But sometimes…

Oh, hell. The last thing he wanted—or needed—was someone inside his head. And knowing what was in there, he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

This was the only bond he was going to get—and he knew damned well that Ireland wanted out of it as soon as possible.

He felt her eyes on him, and turned to see her standing in the living room, her head cocked to one side. She gave a soft whine.

“Don’t worry,” he said, closing the door. “I’m not leaving. Some people say I have a death wish, but if I do die, I’m going out a fucking hero, not having some Bright Fae asshole magic suck the life out of me just because I walked too far across the compound without you.”

He didn’t know how much she really understood. She could pick up feelings and intentions, but her animal might be too confused to understand human language and concepts, or to share her body with Ireland’s consciousness.

It was up to him to take care of her.

First thing, they needed food. He found tubs of barbecue in the fridge, and microwaved some for both of them. Ireland wolfed hers down, and drank a full bowl of water, while Cole opted for beer.

Then he said, “I need to check your wound again, just to make sure it healed up okay and I don’t need to put any more of that magic shit on it.” He’d swiped the jar from Fierro’s safe house. They could put it on his tab. “Come into the bedroom.”

He found the med kit that all the cabins were equipped with, in a cabinet under the breakfast bar, and grabbed the ointment out of his equipment bag. Then he led her down the short hall toward the bedroom, her nails clicking on the wooden floor.

Cole sat down on the bed with the med kit beside him. “Come on up here,” he said. “I’m tired and I don’t feel like doing this on the floor.”

She understood that, at least, and jumping up on the bed next to him didn’t seem to give her any pain. At his request, she even turned so he could check the wound in her side. It looked to have healed up okay and she didn’t flinch when he pressed on it with his fingers—so maybe she’d been affected by the same magic that had healed his own leg when she bound him?

“It looks good,” he told her. “You should get some rest; I’ll turn on the space heater so you stay warm in here.” He stood up, and she did too. “I meant rest in here,” he said. “On the bed. Do you really want to be curled up naked on a dog bed in the living room if you Change back in the middle of the night?”

She sat down, looking irresolutely at the doorway. “Really,” he said gently. “It’s better in here.”

He took the med kit off the bed and moved toward the bedroom door, and she rose to her feet again and came to the edge of the bed.

Cole sighed. “Look,” he said. “I just need some space, okay?” The chance to be alone and think.

Her eyes were still on him. He could see the vulnerability there, feel her anxiety at being left alone. Knowing she had powerful magical enemies. And knowing the wolves here might not be her friends.

He knew how it felt to be alone. He was used to it now—in a way it made him feel safe, because even if he couldn’t get close to people, even if it was lonely, it meant no one could get in to hurt him.

She was used to being alone too.

But her wolf wasn’t. He remembered, years ago, his mother soothing Boomer when he was a cub. “Wolves need touch,” she told Cole. “It strengthens our bonds, lets us know we’re not alone. Wolves weren’t meant to be alone.”

His touch had comforted her last night. And if he were honest, it had comforted him too.

Cole went over and sat back down. Ireland nosed his shoulder tentatively, and made a soft huffing sound. He put his hand on her head, stroking the soft fur between her ears, running his hand down her back. She licked his face.

“Ack! Stop that!” But he didn’t really mean it. Cole put his back against the headboard and swung his feet up onto the bed, then pulled Ireland over next to him, still stroking her fur.