Page 53 of Claimed

“Can you put some clothes on, Blossom? I’ve got to slip out for a while and I’m having two pack members come sit outside to keep an eye out. They won’t likely need to come in, but I want you dressed in case anything kicks off.”

I feel panicked but I still jump to my feet. “Okay.”

He looks upset.

I don’t question him; I move upstairs and after taking off Greyson’s flannel shirt, I fetch the clothes that his sister and mom sent over. I put the nice, stretchy yoga pants on as well as a loose, soft hooded shirt they sent me. I find the hair ties that were sent and tie my hair into a high ponytail.

When I get downstairs, I find him tapping away on his phone screen. He slides it into his pocket and pulls me into his arms, trouble in his eyes.

“I hope everything is okay,” I say.

“It’s not. I need to go quickly, or I’d explain. I’ll go over everything with you when I get back, which will be as soon as I can get back here. Okay?”

I nod.

“Please stay put. Please don’t leave the house. Okay?” He kisses my mate mark.

“Okay, Greyson.”

“I mean this, okay? Can you do this for me? It’s important that you stay put, not try to go anywhere for any reason.”

“Anything you need.”

He blows out what looks like relief. He trusts me. It feels… good. No, not good, it feels important, precious.

“Back as soon as I can be.”

“Okay.”

He leaves, leaving me feeling strange. Worried. Safe and protected. But a little empty.

I don’t know what’s wrong. I only hope it doesn’t have anything to do with Wyatt.

After pacing for a few minutes, I reach into my backpack to retrieve my cell phone, so I can charge it and eventually check and see if there are any messages. Although I’m conflicted, because opening messages or seeing missed calls will completely burst the already deflating bubble - and I’m in no hurry for that… beyond nervous about what sorts of texts or voicemails there might be from Jimmy or Wyatt. But… my phone isn’t in the bag.

Did it get left behind in the woods when Lincoln retrieved my things? Did Greyson take it? If Greyson did take it, is that because he doesn’t entirely trust me? If so, I can’t blame him for that, can I?

No, I can’t blame him. But I also can’t help but feel sad. Embarrassed.

I hear noise outdoors and catch multiple new shifter scents, so I move to peer out a window that faces the front of the house.

I see three men in the driveway with Greyson, who gets into the passenger seat of a pickup truck with one of them. The other two stand on the driveway. One looks up and sees me. I move back.

“Yeah, but she’s the one that’s been poisoning some of us,” one of them says to the other as soon as the truck Greyson is in can no longer be heard.

“True,” the other one says. “But she’s one of us now, so let it go.”

“I’d reject her. No way would I let that in my bed,” the first one asserts.

My blood suddenly runs cold.

“Don’t talk out of your ass. You don’t have a fuckin’ clue how it is when you scent your mate.”

“Spoken like someone who’s whipped,” the first voice quips.

“Yeah, and happy for it, too,” the second mutters. “Don’t piss me off, Finnegan.”

I back away from their voices, not wanting to hear any more, not wanting more proof of what I already know – that there’s a slim to zero chance I’ll be accepted in this pack.

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