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“I’m sorry.” I brush the ruined fabric. “I—”
“Be still,” Bishop snaps.
My joints lock, but not because I have to obey.
Bishop has dropped guys for splashing mud on his slacks.
His jaw tightens until it shakes, but instead of exploding, he scoops me into his arms.
Does the island have a volcano?
Maybe he’ll do us both a favor and toss me in the crater.
His speed-walk rattles my vertigo, but I’d rather ride the tilt-a-whirl than say a single word.
Ignoring questions and growls from the pack on our heels, Bish carries me home. He stops shy of the nest, heading for the shower suite. His porcelain expression chips when he spots my bags and blankets spread in the corner.
“Water,” Bishop barks.
Dutch jumps to crank the rain showers, checking the temperature while he chews his lip.
Meadows Pack reflects in the mirrors.
An infinite number of alphas, seeing me at my worst. The only way to look away is turning into Bishop’s shirt.
The sour smell sinks my heart. “I’m sorry.”
Fully clothed, Bishop walks us under the water. “It’s only a shirt.”
I’m grateful for the flood that hides my face.
Ten shower heads make quick work of my mess, but they can’t fix how I wobble when Bish lowers me to the tile.
“Marisol,” Jin growls. “You’re sick.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t fucking say fine,” Reese snarls.
My knees quake.
Yeah.
I’ve fallen too far to get away with fine. “The steam’s making me feel better. Just let me shower and go to sleep. I’ll be okay by morning.”
Bishop pushes back dripping hair, scowling at the blankets bundled in the corner. “You’ll sleep where? Your nest or the bathroom floor?”
Not my nest.
“The nest.” I push his hands, gritting my teeth to prove I can stand. I’m not even lying, this once. My aching body wants a real mattress tonight. “Just give me a few minutes.”
“You shouldn’t be alone,” Dutch whines.
“You can wait for me in the nest.”
Dutch brightens. “Promise?”
“Be right there.”
