Even as he worried about what the hell was going to come out of that fucking hut.
Surrounded by howling wolves who looked like regular Joes, Apex sat on his log seat with the fire tanning his face and his ass going numb. In spite of all the racket the males were making, he ignored them.
He only cared about what was happening to Kane.
Running a hand down his face, he massaged his jaw—because it was the only part of him that didn’t hurt. Everything else was either aching, swelling up, or scabbing over, to the point where each of his feet had a separate heartbeat and his head was like a balloon that was only loosely tethered to the top of his skull—
Okay, that screaming was doing his nut in. Jesus, what thefuckwas she doing to him?
That old female in there gave him the creeps. Yeah, sure, she was supposed to be all homey-grandmahmen-looking, but anyone who fell for that shit needed to develop their survival reflex a lot better. One look into those gray eyes and his balls had tried to climb back into his pelvis—and he hadn’t wanted to leave Kane with her.
What, like she was a healer? Bullshit. If she was some kind of nurse, then he was the Earnest Rabbit. The Able Bunny? What the hell did the humans call that thing with the dumb basket and all the eggs.
“Here.”
As something appeared right in front of his face, he slapped a hold on a thick forearm and bared his fangs.
Standing over him, the white-haired wolven with the pale blue eyes, who’d prostrated himself in front of Lucan like he was Fido looking for a Milk-Bone and a belly rub, smiled in a wicked way.
“I’m offering you a cigarette, not shoving a gun in your face. Relax.”
Apex pushed the arm away and went back to staring at the hut. As the silence around him re-registered, he became dimly aware that the screaming had stopped and the woofers in the group had dropped their howling routine and dispersed.
How long had Kane been in there?
“About an hour.” The wolven sat down next to him on the log. “By the way, your friends just went to bed. They’re over there in the tent. They told you so, but I didn’t think you were tracking.”
“They’re not my friends.”
“Oh, really.” The male shook a cigarette out of a red-and-white pack and lit up with an old silver lighter. “Then why did you work so hard to defend them.”
When Apex didn’t reply, an exhale was sent in his direction. And he ignored it, too.
“Ah,” the wolven said. “So it wasn’t about my cousin and his mate or the other guy. It was about getting that burned male out of the camp. I’m Callum, by the way. Pleased to meet you.”
A hand was extended, but Apex ignored the palm in the hopes it would discourage conversation. And talk about survival instinct. He shifted his eyes up to the sky to check the position of the stars. Dawn was coming, although they had some time left—
“You don’t talk much, do you.”
As the wolven just stared at him, he got the impression that if he didn’t say something, the bastard was just going to sit there for the rest of the night. Or maybe eternity.
“You’re doing just fine with your own chatter,” he muttered. “I’d only slow you down with responses.”
“Who is he to you? The male.”
“Nobody.” He grabbed for a cigarette. “And I don’t smoke.”
To his credit, the guy—what was his name, Callum?—didn’t even pause at the contradiction. He just flicked a flame up and held the lighter forward. Bending down, Apex had to cup a hand around things to get a good burn, and then he was exhaling long and slow.
“What did she do to him,” he demanded. “That old broad.”
“Why do you care if he’s nobody. And show some respect.”
“Fuck you.”
“Tough talk from someone smoking one of mine.”
“You want it back?”