“Naw.” Setting the net aside, Cal turned his attention to untying his boots, tugging them off, and rolling his pant legs up to his knees before stripping off his shirt. His shoulders, a yard wide and coppery brown, made her mouth water. Backing away, Della perched herself on a rock, letting her gaze unabashedly cascade over him, unable to ignore how his brown nipples pebbled in the crisp air or the way the corrugated muscles on his sides rippled as he moved. The strong line of his clavicle stood out like a raised barrier between the thick angle of his trapezius and the muscled expanse of his pecs. What would it feel like to sleep with her head pillowed on those?
“Ain’t gonna fault you for trying to protect yourself. In fact...” His hand disappeared into his pants pocket and reemerged with something metallic in his palm. He tossed it up in a casual flip before lobbing it at her. It sailed through the air, and Della caught it on reflex, the hard metal ferrying his body heat directly into hers. “I went ahead and sharpened that up. You can have it.”
Puzzled, she hefted her hand, the knife cupped in her palm. “You’d give me a weapon?”
His shoulders gave a small flick, like a shrug he couldn’t be bothered to commit to. “Sharpened or dull, that piddly knife in your shaking hand is no real threat.” The coolness in his manner thawed and a new vehemence stirred beneath his hazel gaze when he lifted it to hers. “I said I wouldn’t claim you, and I didn’t, but I only agreed because I want you to trust me, not because of that.” His head angled toward her outstretched palm.
Emotions swooped in her belly. Part embarrassment at her hasty, ill-conceived actions the night prior and part begrudging appreciation of his strategy. Without her realizing it, he’d slipped trustworthiness right past her defenses and embedded it in her heart.Damn it,shedidtrust him. Not to claim her, not to hurt her, and not to do anything other than what he said he’d do.
Della ran her thumb along the spine of the folded blade, amazed she was holding it again. Quickly, she flipped it open, so discombobulated she flinched as it clicked into place. Sunlight lit the edge, bright and shiny from its sharpening, a beautiful, deadly thing. When had he...?
Last night. He must’ve spent the hours away from her honing the blade to this lethal edge. The image ran forcefully through her mind. Cal, shirtless, aggravated, scowling, painstakingly bringing the blade back to life in the light of the moon. For her.
“I understand,” she murmured, afraid that if she opened her mouth to say anything more, she’d disclose the emotional maelstrom threatening to pull her under.
“Not sure you do,” Cal declared before bending again to his work. “You’ve been on your own for so long now, you don’t get what’s happening here. Everyone should have a good knife. Me giving you one, that’s me taking care of you because that’s my job now, my privilege, and my pleasure.” He spoke with a curtness that burned, but the words and the sentiment behind them dispelled any of her leftover anger. “That’s also why I didn’t leave you this morning, thought you might be scared if you woke up alone.”
He got to his feet and spread the detangled net between his outstretched arms to give it a little shake. He folded his brow and pinned her with a critical squint. “I hope you weren’t too frightened last night. You should know—” Cutting his words, he huffed in exasperation. “You should know I didn’t go far. You were never in any danger.”
Carefully, Della refolded the knife, rubbing her thumb along the spine of the closed blade. She hadn’t been afraid. Even in the pitch-black cave, dark after the fire died, she’d worried about him and the implications of their fight, but she’d never felt fear.
“Honesty. Integrity. Openness. Dependability.”Her own words paraded through her mind. The condescending recitation of things she valued in a person, hurled in Cal’s face like a mockery of things he would never, ever be. Only,god dammit,had he snuck those qualities inside her defenses, too?
“I know.” She attempted a weak smile, her head spinning tumultuously. “I wasn’t scared.”
A breath whooshed out of him, a trace of relief in the gust. After another half-hearted shake, he dropped the net to his feet. Standing tall, hands on hips, he stared out at the rushing water, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
“Don’t want to fight with you,” he said finally, his words barely audible above the rushing water.
Harvesting her conviction from the night before, Della braced herself to open the can of worms he’d apparently decided to push to the dusty, forgotten corner of the pantry. She wasn’t angry, but the issue remained unsettled. “If you want to protect me, and you don’t want to fight,” she said evenly, “then you need to take me back to Morris Hill.”
The line of his jaw hardened to stone. “Not gonna rehash that.” He tracked her eyes with his, and Della shivered with the harnessed command in his voice. “We’re not going back there, and that’s final.”
Della bit down hard on her lip, bottling the rising tide of worry. “So, what’s your plan here? We live in that musty cave now? Indefinitely?”
He drew his brows together. “Working on a plan,” he hedged, releasing her from the intense eye contact. Della tutted at his unsatisfactory response, and he continued, flashing her a resentful glance. “Thought we’d stay here a few days, rest up, make sure your head is okay, and then head east. I’ve heard about a few places where they have electricity up and running where you might be more comfortable.” He rifled a hand through his hair. “Or we could find a new Pack.”
Della’s stomach caved in like she’d been punched. Head east? Out into the world? Away from Morris Hill?
Morris Hill was more than her home; it was herrefuge. A peaceful, safe community where she let her guard down for the first time since TheEnd, if only a little. Before arriving there, she’d run from violence, fought off attackers, scrounged for food, and seen people die from stupid accidents and simple infections. There was no safety out in the world.
Pulse pounding against the backs of her eyes, Della spiraled into her waking nightmares. So fucking assured of his own ability to protect her, he thought nothing of venturing somewhere else, somewhere unknown. And then what? Encounter whatever depraved monsters controlled the resources and electricity wherever they went? If not that, then… join an Alpha Pack? Cold terror clawed her spine. Della knew Alpha Packs. Cal would have to fight his way in. That was how they operated, even Hunter’s. But while Hunt only required a good showing—kick ass or take an ass kicking—other Packs demanded more. Kill or be killed.
If Cal died during their journey in some stupid Alpha conflict or even while trying to fight his way into a Pack, she’d be on her own. Again. It wouldn’t even have to come from a Pack. Who’s to say they wouldn’t encounter some traveling band of miscreants tomorrow, the next day, or next week? Cal could fight off one or two, maybe three, but more than that? No. They’d kill him for the simple pleasure of it. Or they’d beat him to the brink of death and make him watch as they violated her, and he wouldn’t be able to do a fucking thing a bout it. She’d be taken, killed, enslaved, or some other god-awful, unimaginable scenario. It wasn’t an idle speculation of her overactive imagination. She’dseenshit like this go down... until she came to Morris Hill.
Protests sped up her throat, all stuck together in the race to get out. The jackknife tumbled from her shaking hand, landing on the rocks with a soft scrape. “Cal...” she whispered, unable to form the words to explain, to make him understand. He paced a step closer, attention rapt. “I... I need to go back. I can’t be...” She circled her head to their surroundings. “Here.”
She lifted her chin and put all her fear and apprehension out in the open. Let it shine through her expression, hiding nothing. He saw her? He wanted to see her? He could see this. Here. Now.
Cal held the look, his attention never wavering or recoiling from whatever he saw on her face. Then, a low, vibrating note wiggled into her chest, elbowing aside the cacophony of emotions cramped together. Desperate, she latched onto it, welcoming the reprieve from all the memories and anxieties drawn far too near to the surface. The sound flowed through her, and she embraced it, let it bump over all her tense muscles and jostle the knots free. Her shoulders, drawn up to her ears, slumped under the seductive throb.
“I know you’re scared,” Cal said, low and soothingly, the purr turning his voice to melted butter, “but you gotta trust me on this. Wecan’tgo back there.”
Trust Alpha. He’ll protect you, that soft, feminine voice coaxed in time with the undulating rhythm. And,oh hell,she wanted to believe it.
“There...” Della clutched at her focus, feeling the vibration reorient itself, changing from a distraction toward something else entirely, waking up the hunger that lived in the marrow of her bones. She ought to resist it, she ought to hold tight to herself and her needs, but after the surge of fear and the uncertainty of the last two days, she’d simply ran out of resolve. “That’s where my lifeis,” she said weakly.
He inclined his dark head, his eyes glimmering but resolute. “We’ll make a life somewhere else. You and me.”