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“How soon can you pick us up?” Jin asks.
“Is it an emergency?”
Sol’s pain puts a temporary hold on my scheming need to overthrow the federal government. “We need a few days to take care of our mate. Then we’re yours.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic. Shoot me your mate’s name and details, and I’ll sic J on the feds.”
A female murmurs in the background.
“Gotta go. Ring when you’re ready for an airlift.” Hunter cuts the call.
I can feel Marisol.
Not her emotions—that will have to wait until I take her throat—but some uncorked caveman instinct lets me guess her location through layers of bamboo.
I’m resigned to a black-ops future that’ll have me wearing full-time camouflage and cargo pants—like the kind of hillbilly who licks his fingers, gobbling gopher jerky in a lifted truck with a brass knot and testicles swinging from its hitch.
But the thought that has me counting buttons isn’t the mess of my custom-tailored shirt.
It’s my queen’s shattered voice.
The way she shut me out.
As if she needs to hide.
From me?
I have matching scars.
I’ll lick hers clean.
I’ll lick her everywhere.
The instinct to return to her side frays worse than the water dripping under my collar. “I’m going to her.”
Jin yanks me back. “Take a shower first.”
“I’m fine.”
“She won’t be if she sees you all wet and agitated.”
“Ah.” That’s why I trust Jin to lead.
We could charter a jet through my blind spots.
Just because I’m ready to risk showing my flaws doesn’t mean my queen is ready to accept.
“Sol is overwhelmed,” he continues. “Let me speak to her as packleader. I’ll bring you in when she’s calm enough to handle more.”
“How much more?” Dutch grips his chest. “Gonna die if I can’t bite her. She was so fucking hurt and we didn’t even know.”
“No talk about biting yet. Blow off steam however you need.” Jin shakes out his arms. “I’ll take care of our girl.”
“Yeah.” Reese jumps off the porch. “I need to take a walk. Maybe do some fucking murdering.”
“What about your steam?” Our packleader crackles like the only generator powering the island AC through a sea-boiling heat wave.
“I’m not angry.”
