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Baer had also been there the entire time, keeping a close watch on his mate. The dead second Wiley was done and started to wilt on his feet, Baer swooped in and lifted the man in his arms. Wiley wrapped his legs around Baer’s waist, hugging him loosely while resting his head on Baer’s shoulder.
Harrison trailed behind them, following to the second floor. He thought he heard Baer softly counting the stairs under his breath. As they reached the top, Wiley murmured a sleepy, “Thank you.”
“Anything for my mate,” Baer replied in a low, deep voice.
Those words sent an unexpected ripple of longing through him. What would it be like to have a soul mate? To have someone who loved him, cared for him, leaned on him so completely? Part of him wanted to brush it off as a silly fantasy, but he was surrounded at all times with living proof that soul mates were real.
Did it mean that he had his own soul mate out there waiting for him?
And what would happen to that person when he died in the final battle against the pestilents?
It wasn’t like they would ever know that they had a soul mate who’d died before they could ever meet, but there was still a low-level ache in his chest for this unknown being. They’d never find each other and enjoy the deep connection that Baer and Wiley had found. Was it strange that he felt like he was letting this faceless stranger down? Wasn’t it enough that he was helping to save the world? That had to counter some of the feelings of abandonment.
Harrison scrubbed a hand across his face and tried to shove aside those strange thoughts. He was exhausted and not thinking clearly. That had to be the reason for such maudlin ideas dancing through his brain. When he found the room Clay had told him about, he pulled the little plastic card from his pocket and unlocked his door.
Naturally, the first sight to greet him was a shirtless Hale standing in front of the mirror, inspecting the faded pink lines across his chest. His hair was wet and brushing his shoulders in loose curls. The sight of those claw marks burned away the last of Harrison’s fatigue, igniting a fire deep in his gut.
Why had Hale jumped in front of him? He’d risked his own life and he was needed to close the rift. Harrison was not. If he’d been turned at a slightly different angle, those black talons could have raked across Hale’s neck. Would Dane have been able to save him from the poison then? And that was assuming his entire throat wouldn’t have been ripped out.
Hanging on to his temper by his fingertips, Harrison turned and carefully shut the door behind him. He turned both of the locks, securing them against another attack as best as he could. Wiley said that the protective barrier would withstand a handful of pestilents, but it wasn’t strong enough to hold back an entire army. At the very least, they’d have some warning this time.
“The shower doesn’t have much pressure, but the towels are thicker than the last place,” Hale announced to the room. “I put your stuff on the bed closest to the door.”
It was only when Hale mentioned the bed that he noticed that they actually had two double beds this time rather than the single queen of their original motel. Of course, Harrison’s instincts were to shove the other bed against the wall and lay on the far side, pinning Hale between his own body and the wall. For the Weaver’s protection, of course.
But he couldn’t hound Hale’s every step. The Weaver had to learn to protect himself. If Harrison fell in battle with the pestilents, who the hell was going to watch the man’s back? The rest of the Weavers had their own soul mates to protect. Hale was still alone and clearly inexperienced when it came to fighting.
“Thanks,” he bit out. “How’s your chest?”
“Good. Pretty much healed.” Harrison turned to face Hale to see him lifting his arms over his head, the chest muscles shifting easily under warm flesh. “Dane got a second wind and took another stab at healing it. Much easier without all the poison, I guess.” Hale lowered his arms and looked at his chest with eyebrows lifted. “He did warn me that the scars are probably permanent, but that’s okay. Kind of like having racing stripes.”
“You get that this isn’t a game, right?” Harrison snapped.
“What?”
“You could have been killed tonight!” Harrison shouted, his tenuous hold on his temper finally snapping. “What were you thinking? If you’d been turned the wrong way, you’d be dead right now. Dane wouldn’t have been able to save you.”
Hale stared at him for a second, his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm and maybe even a little confused. “And if I hadn’t acted, you’d be dead right now.”
