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My wolf’s been subdued, content to just be in her presence, but rises at the thought. The half shift happens in a blink. My father calls my name while others move back, and I growl in his direction. My beast thrashes against my skin for complete control; he wants to claim her now—finish what I started—but then he calms. My human skin retakes its place, and all traces of him disappear.
One simple touch.
Just a graze of her hand and immediately I’m nothing more than a docile pup. Little Moon stands beside me now with her fingers embedded into the thick fur of my right arm.
She’s not running them back and forth or tugging, but the heat of her palm is enough. It’s soothing. Calms both of us because his fears are mine, too.
His throat clearing pulls her attention away from me, and I hate it. Want it back on me, but then I find a knowing look on my father’s face.
A plethora of emotions flicker through him. Understanding and disappointment being the most predominant, and I know it’s because of the unhealed wound where I tore her flesh. It’s red and raw, and my teeth click to fix it. To lave the skin and heal her, but the way she quickly moves away stops me.
“Sorry.” Another blush, and I swallow hard. “Where were we?”
“Don’t be. All will be okay, my child.” Dad smiles at her, the gentlest I’ve seen him since before Mum’s death. Almost wistful. “By pact and blood...”
Something about those four words shake her. Pulls a deep, shuddering breath from her tiny frame before she whispers, “We are one.”
16
XADIEL
That weight on her shoulders seems to evaporate the moment she finishes, yet her body sags a bit and hand touches her forehead, as if checking for a fever. I react on instinct. My arm is around her waist before she can complain or dodge me, keeping her tight to my chest while she heaves in large breaths.
“Please.” That’s all she says, but the need is so profound. The heaviness of her exhaustion cloaks her calming jasmine scent, and I nod against her head. Right now, she needs me to be what I’ve failed to before.
To put her before my need for the truth.
She knows where Mum is.
“Do you want me to take you outside for some fresh air?”
“No.” She nuzzles into my chest, breathing me in deep. Every inhale relaxes her a little more, the rigidness of her muscles coming undone. “Just give me a second.”
“Take all the time you need.” Cain, I want everyone out. Send them home except for my family and Timoth. They don’t leave your sight. Understood? “Let’s get you off your feet for a bit, Little Moon. I’m going to pick you up now.”
Another rough exhale. “Okay.”
Your father already started. We’ll be waiting in the kitchen, but what about Bartolo?
Send him back to his cell and re-chain him.
Consider it done, Alpha.
My eyes shift around the room and indeed find it empty. The door I’d broken earlier in my rage is half-closed, propped against the other while the lights have been lowered to a pleasant dim.
Thank you, Cain.
On the opposite wall sits the royal dais and I pick her up bridal style, biting back a grin at the squeak she emits. How she digs her fingers into the muscles of my shoulders, almost afraid I’d drop her. It’s adorable, as is the way she blooms pink when I sit us down with her in my lap.
Isabella tries to stand up, shift away, but her lack of strength at the moment is to my advantage…and concern. With her this close, I get a good look at her and notice the dark bags under her eyes, how her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
“What did they do to you?” The urge to place her in a bed while I tear Timoth and whoever helped him limb from limb is strong—near demonic. “Tell me, and I’ll bring you their heads.”
“Why would you do that for someone you hate? For someone you locked in a room, too?”
“I don’t hate you, little witch.” At that she bristles, pushing my hands away but they don’t budge from around her waist. “Never have, although I’ve tried. Without lifting a finger, Isabella, you’ve tattooed yourself on my skin.”
“Let. Go.”
