Amora
I stare back at Kian,shock reverberating through me at the vehemence in his tone.
His words hang in the air like a promise. Did he really just vow to keep me alive? I have no idea how to respond to that. Our mate bond is broken. Gone. There shouldn’t be any lingering protective feelings between any of us.
But… all three of them were part of saving me. They went out on a limb to save my life, basically destroying their relationship with their alpha.
For me.
Not to mention they’re still here. They didn’t drop me in this cabin and then bounce, racing back to Quinton to beg forgiveness like I expected.
I don’t even want to acknowledge any of that, though. Acknowledging it will make it real. I have a shit ton of questions I want to ask—starting with why?—but instead, I just say, “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute. I’m too hungry to fucking stand here having a stare off.”
Then I slip into the bathroom, close the door, and turn the lock.
I mean, yeah. I know a dinky little knob lock isn’t going to keep them out if they want in, but it makes me feel better to hear that click. Like a line drawn in the sand between us.
I stand with my ear against the wood and listen to their footsteps fading out the hallway and down the creaky stairs. When I’m sure they’ve all disappeared, I drop the blanket and crank on the hot water.
Once steam fills the room and the water has turned my skin lobster red, I consider staying here forever. This place isn’t exactly a rustic cabin in the woods, which means there’s probably a decent hot water heater in the basement and I could just stand beneath this molten waterfall forever.
But unfortunately, the rumble in my belly doesn’t lie. I cut off the warm spray and dig a towel out from beneath the sink to pat myself dry.
The closet has a few items of clothing, most of them for a man much, much larger than me. Good for the shadow shifters, bad for my lanky, thin body. I manage to find some pajamas in the dresser that sits against the wall—a pair of silk booty shorts that hug my ass and a matching tank top that reveals more than it covers.
So I don’t freeze to death, I toss a bulky blue terry-cloth robe over the ensemble and head downstairs.
Malix stands over the stove, a cast-iron skillet sizzling and a spatula in his hand. A stack of golden brown pancakes rests on a plate at his elbow. He glances at me, and his violet gaze drifts down my body to the booty shorts and tank top beneath the open robe.
Waggling his eyebrows at me, he says, “Hey there, kitty. There’s coffee in the pot.”
“How’d you manage to pull off pancakes?” I ask him, ignoring his heated look as I bypass him to go to the coffee maker.
“Pantry’s stocked like they’re expecting an apocalypse.” He shrugs as he flips another pancake in the skillet.
I pour myself a mug of coffee, ignoring the powdered milk but dumping half a ton of sugar in to make up for it. Then I join Kian and Frost at the table, where they’re already eating.
Kian’s gaze drops to my cleavage. “Feel better?”
Shifters are used to nudity, so you’d expect they wouldn’t give a damn about my pseudo-lingerie. Ignoring his obvious interest, I reply, “Yeah.” I could elaborate that I still feel achy and tired, and I’m ninety percent certain I have a sprained wrist, but why bother? “So what comes next?”
Kian stabs at a giant stack of pancake pieces with his fork, shooting me an irritated glance. “What do you mean?”
Malix joins us with his plate, snatching the maple syrup off the tabletop as I reply, “Are you going to head back to the pack? Continue your stupid quest at your Alpha’s bidding?”
“It is not a stupid quest,” Frost says, his voice so low and soft I almost don’t hear him. His statement lances through me like a knife, because I know the weight behind it. The fact that he lives with this shadow pain. All of them do.
But that doesn’t make their mission any less deadly to the rest of the world.
I point my fork at Kian. “You could walk away. You already went up against Quinton by rescuing me from your pack. You could cut ties completely. Live your own lives. Be more than his lackeys. Have a greater purpose than what he wants for you.”
Malix’s dark eyebrows draw together, and a muscle tightens in Kian’s temple, bunching up the satin skin around his scar. They know exactly what I’m referring to—the fact that Quinton sees them as no more than his puppets. That they have no personal autonomy as long as they’re under his thumb.
Frost speaks up again, for the second time. Damn near chatty for him. “It isn’t that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” I stab at my pancakes and cut off a bite with a little more force than necessary. “Seems pretty simple to me. You already defied Quinton’s orders to save me. So it’s pretty obvious you can go up against him. Which means you won’t about this. Not can’t. Won’t.”
None of them respond.
I glance around the table, my anger rising. Frost stares out the window over the sink, while Malix focuses entirely on his pancakes. Kian’s fingers tap restlessly against his mug as he stares down into the dredges of his coffee. And not a damn one of them will look at me.
Motherfuckers.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snap, shoving my plate away. My appetite is shot in their presence. How could they think destroying the world just for a little relief from their own pain is okay? Are they psychopaths? “You aren’t just searching out the shadow because Quinton says so. I thought maybe you were doing it because you had to, not just for the pain but because your alpha commanded you to. But that’s not true, is it? You could walk away from this whole thing. You just won’t.”
More silence.
I shove away from the table and stand, my hands shaky and my muscles taut with fury. All the plates and mugs on the tabletop clatter from the violence of my abrupt movement, but I just whirl on my heel and storm toward the back door.
Throwing open the door, I march out into the sharp, cold sunshine.
None of them stop me.
There’s snow on the ground here too. Just an inch or so, enough to crunch beneath the soles of my feet. I suck in a breath at the sudden cold, but I’m thankful for it because it cools my temper and gives me something else to focus on.
Those assholes. They’ve already defied their alpha, already slipped out from under his control, but they still refuse to admit that their quest to bring the shadow realm to earth is wrong. I don’t get it. They aren’t bad people—not as bad as I once thought they were, anyway. Rough around the edges, a little more feral than most, but not evil.
Not like their alpha.
I tug the robe tight around my body and cross my arms to hold it in place. There isn’t much of a back yard. We’re on the side of a mountain, with the trees angling down steeply a short distance away. I stare into the shadowy depths of the forest and wish I was back home in Montana.
Not here. Not dealing with this goddamn mess.
I smell Malix on the breeze before I hear his footsteps or sense his presence. His sunshine and fresh air smell is better than any clear mountain morning could ever hope to be. I close my eyes and remain still, ignoring him as he steps up beside me to face the unending woods.
“Smells like snow,” he says.
I grunt. He’s not wrong. It’s the season for it in the mountains.
“Can we talk?”