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There had been one short moment in which I’d wondered if Umbra really might not be as frightening as I’d dreaded. Coerced cuddles weren’t nearly as bad as what I’d been anticipating. And then he’d pulled a knife, his aura splitting the air.
How far would his aura reach?
If Dusk was in the living room, he’d know. Ithadto be large enough that he would.
Would he come?
Did Iwanthim to, or want himnotto?
Clearly not, since I was still trying to calm my breathing, my white knuckled grip on the door-knob I hadn’t turned.
I wanted to stay in this room, as far from Dusk as possible. Idefinitelydidn’t want to run to him for help.
Instead, I’d like to run right out of here, but that wasn’t an option, so it was mad alpha A or mad alpha B.Take your fucking pick, Shatter.
Through the door, I could still feel his aura wavering in the air. Utterly terrifying.
It was the most unstable thing I’d ever felt.
I paused, grip loosening as I turned back to the bathroom.
I couldfeelit; cracked and howling. A vicious monster and… something else. Something broken, crying for help. Wolfsbane and blood still tangled in the air, but the blood… The blood was stronger now.
Seconds ticked by as I stared at the door forever. I grappled with something I’d never felt. Instinct rose, more powerful than the desperate thing that just wanted a nest to curl up in. Something resilient and protective.
Something… stolen.
I was stepping toward the bathroom before I realised. I nudged it ever so slightly with my toe, taking a deep breath, and then daring to peer in.
My hand jumped to my mouth, forcing me into silence as I saw what was within.
Umbra’s eyes were closed as he sat against the bathroom wall. He wore only his jeans, his top tossed across the floor.
In his fist was the knife, and it shook in his grip as he held it firmly against a bleeding wound on his chest. There were three open wounds, small, vertical lines, each smaller than a matchstick, each trailing a tear of blood down his chest.
And I wasn’t left to wonder what they were supposed to be, because his body was a canvas, answering that. Scars littered his chest and arms, horizontal batches of five lines.
I lowered my hand from my mouth, probing further, the insistent feeling tugging at me. I tilted my head, watching as he drew the knife away and dug it back into the first of the open wounds, dragging it down, scoring deeper.
More blood oozed out, strangely mesmerising as it slipped over the tan muscles of his chest.
His eyes remained closed, but if I had to decide, I might call him serene. I don’t know when the tears came, but I felt one escape and tumble down my cheeks. Sorrow twisted my heart as I watched, and I didn’t exactly know why.
Broken aura. Broken mind. These wounds somehow feel like mine…
Each silent step toward him was frightening, but I took them anyway. This went beyond my mates or Umbra’s pack.
This wasn’t just about him. Each step was an exploration of me. Of somethingI’dnever had… or something I’d lost.
I dropped to my knees, fingers outstretched.
His eyes flew open and his hand snapped out, seizing me by the neck. I grabbed onto his wrist, a whimper fleeing my lips. His grip loosened, eyes darting between mine, sudden panic in them.
“I can’t…” His voice was gravel. “You can’t… stop me.”
It wasn’t a challenge. I understood that.
It was a plea.
