“No,” he said, shaking his head as he finished off her Coke. She felt her shoulders sag in relief as she glanced back at the television and-
“They’re bigger, their snouts are larger, they have more teeth, their claws are longer and sharper, they’re completely covered in hair, and they’re taller,” he said, not really sounding all that concerned as she sat there, slowly nodding as she mumbled, “I really hate you right now,” as she grabbed her pillow and threw it at him.
“Did you want me to lie to you?” Trace asked, chuckling as he caught the pillow and placed it on the couch next to him.
Blinking at him, she said, “Yes, yes, I did, in fact.”
“Would it help if I told you that they don’t like the taste of human flesh?”
Nodding, she said, “It really would.”
“Then they hate the taste of human flesh,” he said with a straight face.
“Really?” Samantha asked, starting to feel better about all this only to narrow her eyes when he said, “No,” with a wink.
“I see,” she murmured, nodding absently as she reached over, grabbed hold of that pillow and decided to beat the shit out of the man laughing his ass off at her!
*-*-*-*
Miriam, Nebraska
“Indie-”
“Go away,” the small woman currently curled up on the bathroom floor mumbled weakly as Ethan stood there, slowly exhaling, wondering where the fucking shifter was.
He needed to fucking leave and he needed to do it now, but he couldn’t leave her like this…
Fuck!
“You should be back in bed,” he said, reaching over to pick the small woman up only to have her throw one of the small individually wrapped bars of soap that came with the room at him and…missed.
“Just let me die in peace,” Indie said, squeezing her eyes shut tightly to block out the light as she reached up with a trembling hand and pulled the extra stack of folded towels he’d ordered from room service down into a mess on the floor only to drag them against her body and snuggle them while he stood there, wondering what was taking the fucking shifter so long.
He should have been back by now, Ethan thought, glancing down at his watch and wondering if he should have made the doctor stay only to dismiss the idea since Caine needed him more. The Pyte should never had trusted the Council, but he was too fucking desperate to listen. Whatever was causing his mate’s cancer to come back, the Council was behind it.
Danni hadn’t fed enough when she’d been turned to completely kill the cancer but with overfeeding and the Ion’s blood, she should have made a complete recovery. Her body should have seen the cancer as a poison in her system and killed it, but for some reason it had come back twice so far. The first time Caine had managed to destroy it with the Ion’s blood, but now…
Now nothing was touching it.
As soon as he made it to his son and took care of the bitch, he planned on taking a trip to New York to find out what was going on with Caine’s mate. Hopefully, the human doctor figured it out before it was too late. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if the Pyte lost his mate since he’d seen first-hand what Caine was capable of.
After he found out what Trace was, he’d gone in search of other Pytes, hoping to get answers and when he found Caine…
He’d wished that he hadn’t.
Back then, Caine had been full of rage, taking it out on everyone that made the mistake of crossing his path. He’d found the Pyte in England, taunting the Sentinels as he wiped out village after village, leaving behind a trail of bodies and stories that would haunt the country for decades. When he’d met first met the Pyte, he’d expected answers, but all he got was one piece of advice that tore away every last hope that he had.
Kill the boy.
He’d never admit this to anyone, but when he came back to the tavern where he’d left Trace, he’d seriously considered it. He’d sat on the bed next to his son and watched him as he’d slept and thought about Caine. He hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of his son turning into a monster.
To this day, he still wasn’t sure if he would have been able to go through with it or not, but just as he found himself reaching for that pillow, Caine chose that moment to step into the room. The Pyte had followed him, most likely to kill Trace only to join Ethan as he’d watched Trace sleep. For a long time, the Pyte just stood there, staring down at Trace and then, he’d pulled the pillow that Ethan had in a death grip out of his hands and tossed it aside before he’d left without a word. He’d never told Trace about Caine, afraid that he would ask questions that he didn’t want to answer.
“I need to leave, mo stoirín,” Ethan said hollowly as he thought about the little boy that had trusted him to keep him safe.
He needed to go to his son.
“Okay,” Indie mumbled, nodding her head even as she buried her face against the towels.