Before I can get another blow in, Malix appears. He somehow wedges himself between us, pulling Kian’s hand away from my throat as he covers my body with his. His muscular weight squeezes me into the couch and forms a barrier between me and Kian, who’s kneeling over us both now.
“Time out,” Malix commands, an unusual note of authority in his tone. “I’m serious. Cut it the fuck out. We all need some damn rest, okay? It’s been a shitty couple of days. Let’s get some sleep, then we’ll figure out a plan later.”
Some kind of silent communication seems to pass between Malix and Kian. For a moment, I think Kian’s going to throw him off me and keep fighting. But then the tall, dark-haired shifter deflates. He sighs deeply, his shoulders sagging, and his hard expression falls away, replaced by one of exhaustion.
“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” Straightening, he climbs off the couch. He winces a little as he steps away, adjusting his groin and shooting me an irritated look.
I don’t say anything. All the fight has gone out of me too. I don’t want to argue with Kian. I don’t want any of this.
I just want Frost back.
Kian stalks out of the living room to the foyer, then his stomping footsteps disappear up the stairs to the second floor.
Malix crawls off me and offers me a hand up, blowing out a breath as he does. “Damn, kitty. Why you gotta poke the bear?”
“I don’t know. It’s a character flaw,” I reply, unfolding from the couch and giving my neck a roll.
“Not sure about that,” Malix says, flashing me the playful smile I’ve been missing since we arrived here. “It might be a character strength. Whatever it is though, it’s hella entertaining. Usually.”
“Glad to be of service.”
He touches my chin with his thumb, his gaze sweeping over my face. “Go get some sleep, kitty. You’ll feel better.” Then he presses a light kiss on my forehead before he turns and walks away, toward the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I call after him. The warmth from his lips on my skin makes me want to ask him to come upstairs with me. I want the peace and comfort of his arms around me.
“I’m going to take some food and water to Frost,” he calls back without turning around. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
I nod even though he’s not looking at me, then trudge upstairs. Alone.
The hallway is dim, since there’s only one window at the end of the corridor to let in the morning sunlight. Weeks’ or maybe months’ worth of dust swirl around in the beam of light as I bypass the one closed door, where I imagine Kian is sulking. I choose the bedroom at the far end of the hall, putting as much distance as I can between the two of us.
A guest room, it looks like. I close the door and venture into the gloom. Ambient light filters in around the edges of the heavy drapes. The queen bed is covered in a floral duvet and about fifty-two throw pillows. In the corner, an ironing board and an old sewing machine crouch next to one another, both covered in a layer of ghostly dust. Against one wall, a large chest of drawers still holds a few belongings—a mother of pearl handled brush, a crystal perfume decanter, a pair of delicate golden bifocals. Even stranger is the scarf draped over the mirror, concealing it entirely.
The place feels like a room outside of time.
I collapse onto the duvet, resting my upper body on the bed and letting my legs dangle off the side of the mattress. Staring up at the ceiling, I take a few deep breaths and let the adrenaline of the past few hours fade away. Between my argument with Kian and nearly being attacked by Frost, my nerves feel like live wires sparking under my skin.
Frost recognized me.
He said my name.
For the briefest moment, I had him back, right there in my grasp. The change, though? When the momentary softness disappeared into savagery almost instantaneously? Reliving it in my mind hurts almost as much as seeing it in real time. My stomach churns at the memory of his blue gaze latching on to mine, his pupils dilating, his eyes shining as he recognized me.
And the way they shuttered right before he lunged.
A single hot tear leaks out of the corner of my eye and trails like fire down my cheek toward the blanket.
Frost doesn’t deserve this, and I feel so, so helpless against the nightmare raging inside him.
My eyes are still closed, and I’m dozing somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, when I sense Malix outside the door. It’s the strangest feeling—like a little tickle in my chest, as if the essence of what makes him him has reached out to touch me.
Instead of just barging in, he knocks. Lightly. Almost… politely.
I roll off the mattress and pad to the door to let him in. I don’t even say anything. I just open it, then walk back to the bed and resume my position.
Malix shuts the door behind him and then crosses to stand over me. His knees nudge mine apart so he can get in close and peer down at my face. “What’s up, kitty? I could smell your tears in the damn basement.”
I chuckle bitterly and swipe at the new droplets that are rising in my eyes, then look away from him, pinning my gaze on the scarf-covered mirror. “I don’t get any kind of privacy with you assholes around.”
He grins, then slips a knee onto the bed next to me. Shifting his weight, he flops down beside me, propping his head up on one arm. As his body settles into the mattress, I roll toward him unconsciously. He slides his palm up my arm, his fingers soft over the place where Kian gripped me so fiercely not that long ago. “Nope. No privacy when you’re a part of our pack.”
His words hit me like a wrecking ball to the chest. My heart constricts at the idea of being part of them. I won’t admit it out loud and can barely even admit it to myself in the privacy of my own thoughts, but… I want that. Even though I know it’s probably stupid, that it’s a dangerous pipe dream, I want it.
Maybe one day we could make a home of our own, a pack of our own. Maybe I could take them to Montana, introduce them to my friends, build a life together…
Ifwe survive Quinton’s nefarious plans.
Ifwe can recover from all the shit that’s happened between us.
Malix is still looking at me, and I’m afraid he can read too much in my expression. I don’t want to tell him what I was just thinking, but I don’t want him to leave either. His presence is solid and comforting, and I feel like I would float away without it.
“I’m fucked up,” I admit. “It’s just… Frost. The way he attacked me. It…”
Malix’s violet gaze flicks to my hand where it rests on my stomach. My finger is no longer bleeding, but it still throbs from the memory of Frost’s teeth breaking my skin.
He moves his palm over my arm and gently cups my injured hand. “I know.”
“Out of the three of you, my connection to Frost was…”