AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Gideon?” she whispers.
I nod and jerk my hand from her grasp. “Fine.”
Her lips press into a firm line, and I fight the urge to run my thumb along them until they relax beneath my touch. But my head feels foggy, and I can’t think straight. Images of Grace and Ella race through my mind—the flames licking at the night sky as they swallowed my family and our home, followed by Adara on the night she came to me—soot and ash coating her hair and fingers.
The rest of dinner goes by in a blur, my mood souring by the minute, until finally everyone stands to leave. Adara says goodnight and heads up to her room, one last glance thrown over her shoulder in my direction as I walk them to the door. I try to ignore the tightness in my chest at the confusion written across her face.
“Gideon.” Madrona stops me as I move to close the door behind her, the others already halfway to their cars. She smiles when I raise my brows at her. “Grace and Ella were beautiful lights in your darkness. Do your best to not squelch the few lights you have left.” Reaching up to pat my cheek, she looks over my shoulder at the stairs. “Love can make the fiercest of protectors.”
She moves to leave, and I can’t help but watch her go, her long hair swaying with each step. After a moment, I shake my head to clear it and go inside. Grabbing the whiskey from the liquor cabinet and throwing myself down onto the sofa with a sigh, I take a pull from the bottle and stare at the ceiling.
She’s up there. In a bed in my house—alone. I hate being on a different floor from her, but if I were to go to my own room, I’d be across the house. I don’t know which is worse—the aching desire to be near her or the blinding panic in my head every time I think of her fire. Gods, why is this so difficult? Why did the fates damn me with this witch?
Groaning, I take another pull from the bottle, letting the amber liquid warm its way down my throat. I snatch the black journal off the side table, knowing Frank left it here for me on purpose.
“A pack issue,”he’d said.“Read it when you’re alone.”
Cracking open the journal, the first few words swim before me, rage coloring my vision.
There’s been talk of challenging you for alpha…
“Aaron Kilch,” I read the name outloud like a curse before throwing the journal across the room. The spine smacks into the wall, and it drops to the floor. I throw back another gulp of liquor, waiting for my wolf to calm down before I hunt Aaron down tonight and tear him apart the way I should’ve that night he laid his hands on Adara.
I should’ve killed him then.
You would’ve terrified her even more.
“I don’t care,” I grumble, scowling at the floor at the sound of his voice—clear, crisp, as if he were right next to me. “If she can’t stomach how I handle my pack, then she has no place beside me, leading it.”
I storm over to the wall and leaf through the rest of the journal before tossing it back on the table and heading upstairs. I need sleep before dealing with this, especially after that shitstorm of a council meeting. Rathmann’s burning gaze enters my mind, and I smirk. I tried playing nice, but he’s set on bringing his own destruction.
Padding up the stairs, I walk down the hall, pausing briefly outside Adara’s door. My fist hovers in the air, wanting to knock, but something stops me. Her lights are off. Is she asleep already or just laying there in the dark? Clenching my jaw, I shove my fist into my pants pocket and continue walking to my own door.
Why did I have to buy such a big godsforsaken house? It couldn’t have been a one bedroom, where the only option she would’ve had is to sleep beside me. My hands ache to hold her tight against me, like when we laid on the cot in my office, yet… another part of me craves the distance between us.
When I got home, I couldn’t think of anything except seeing her, touching her. But… when I saw her through the window, after going inside to change out of my suit, I almost couldn’t bear to go back outside to her. It was only after seeing her out there—breathing rapidly with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, panic radiating from her whole body and throbbing through our bond—that I couldn’t keep myself from her any longer. I found myself standing beside her before I even realized my feet were moving, reaching out to touch her chest without a second though. Once I did, it was as if the rest of the world fell away. I didn’t want to ever take my hand from her again.
Now, climbing into bed, my temples throb, fighting between the urge to carry her from the spare room and into my bed and the uneasy feeling that’s been lingering in my head every time I step away from her. How do I protect my pack from a fate that seems unavoidable? From a fate that I don’t know if I have the strength to walk away from, even if I had to…
The bar is packed tonight. Almost the entire pack is here, but I don’t understand why. The full moon happened two weeks ago, so it doesn’t make sense for everyone to be this rowdy.
I melt into the shadows, walking along the edge of the crowded space and seeing if Kilch dared to show his face here tonight. Unable to see or smell him, I lean back against my office door, staying hidden in the corner by the bar.
“He ain’t here,” Frank says, pouring another round of beers for a few girls that hang around Mila.
I grunt. “That’s obvious.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, moving down the bar and filling drinks as he goes.
My eyes sweep the room again. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. A rush of cold air prickles goosebumps along my arm, and I look over as a dark-haired woman enters the bar.
Adara?
But when she turns, it isn’t her. Instead, it’s one of the girls from Darrold’s new group of shifters… but I can’t remember her name.
Frustrated, I whirl around and throw my office door open. Where is Adara? I thought she was… coming here? Is that right? Is she still training with me?
I slump into the desk chair, rummaging around until I find the bottle of whiskey stashed under my desk. Without looking down, I lean back in my chair and take a pull from the bottle—gagging immediately. I quickly realize the liquid is wrong. It’s not whiskey—it’s thick, metallic. Glancing at the glass bottle, I watch the normally amber liquid swirling around, seeing that it’s a deep red, so deep it’s almost black. I swipe the back of my hand across my lips, the skin coming away tinged red with blood, and stumble out of the chair.
