Page 40 of The Alpha's Warlock
Few years, really. I’d always been a little bitch to Ian, because I hated the way he stared at me and glowered at me and generally lurked. And because, just maybe, I’d always wanted to get a rise out of him, and he usually sulked off growling instead of fighting with me the way I wanted.
So when he sat down next to me on the ground, murmuring my name in that tone of endless weariness, I broke a little. He deserved so much better. I could admit that, if only to myself. He hadn’t wanted this bond, and — yeah, I’d done my part in the fights that night. But there wouldn’t havebeenany fights without my father coming after me.
My father, who’d murdered Ian’s cousin. My father, who’d almost certainly had something to do with Matthew’s batshit insanity.
On the other hand, what the fuck was up with Kimball’s supposed son? And the two shamans? It wasn’t all about me.
Ian still deserved better.
“Hi,” I whispered. “You okay?” I could’ve turned my head out of the cradle of my knees and looked for myself, but I didn’t have the courage.
“Yeah,” Ian said, his breath huffing out in something similar to a laugh. “Yeah. I’ve had my fill of heads coming off of people for one day, though.”
It was so similar to my own thought of a few minutes before that I started to laugh again, still with that frantic edge, my chuckle bubbling up with too much force and not enough staying power.
“Me too.” The laugh broke off in a little hitching sob. Gods, I was so done. Stick a fork in me, if they could find a clean one in the Armitage pack house, which I kind of doubted.
“Will you please look at me?” He sounded plaintive, a little lost. Which was so un-Ian-like that it made me actually tilt my head and peek at him with one eye.
He was such a mess. What had been left of his clothes after the fun and games in the Kimball barn were just tatters now, a few threads and seams connecting shreds of blood- and sweat-soaked cotton and denim.
Bruises and cuts were healing before my eyes, but that didn’t do much about the dirt and filth encrusting him from head to toe. His auburn hair was a matted tangle of blood and dust and…well, better not to think about what could have landed in his hair when he ripped Kimball’s monstrous oozing head off. At some point, I was going to pin Dor down and find out exactly what the fuck had been going on there, but for now…yeah, for now, we needed showers more than answers.
“You’re free now,” Ian said, sounding oddly choked. I couldn’t read anything in his expression at all. “No one’s after you. You could go…home. To your apartment. Your life.”
That thought left me chilled, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of my shirt. “We’re bonded. I mean, that doesn’t go away. Doesn’t that mean we need to…” It was so hard to force the words out through my constricted throat. “Live together?”
“The bond-breaking ritual isn’t easy, but we could risk it.” He spoke so matter-of-factly. Like it was just — conversation. Like it was no big deal. “With one person inside the bond who can use magic, it’s a lot easier, right?” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You were going to break it to save my life. So why not break it to fix your own?”
For a second, the world stopped turning. All my muscles went rigid, my joints locking up painfully. “What?” It came out a rough whisper, barely loud enough even for werewolf hearing. “I — what? You — how did you know?”
Ian had been unconscious. Hadn’t he? Except that if he’d heard me talking to my father about breaking our bond, he hadn’t been. The sneaky fuckingbastard.
He chewed on his lip, looking away shiftily. “I heard it all, Nate. Every word. I woke up before you did, I just kept my head down, since I figured the longer I had to heal before they got started with me, the better.”
Ian had heard it all.Every word. What the hell?
“Then why did you want me to stay in the pack house? I mean, if you knew I wasn’t going to betray you, then…I don’t get it.”
He stared at me, shaking his head in disbelief. “Nate. You’re mymate. I wanted you safe. Betray me? You think I was worried aboutmyselfwhen I told you to stay behind?”
“I thought you didn’t trust me.” Instead, he’d wanted to protect me, which was, despite his argument, a way of protecting himself. He’d said it earlier, only I hadn’t thought it through. I was his weak point, as long as we were bonded. “You could’ve said something before I got so mad.”
He shrugged, looking grim. “There wasn’t a lot of time for a recap in between running for our lives and then fighting for our lives. Again.”
Ian smoothly rose to his feet, not even bracing himself on the ground. Stupid werewolves. And then he extended a hand down to me. I set mine in his, and he hauled me up just as easily. It wasn’t easy to let go of him once I was standing, but I made myself.
“Yeah,” I said. “Fair point.” I felt like an idiot — worse, I felt like a fool, and like he’d made one out of me. “If we — when we break the bond, at least you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
Ian gazed down at me, that strange look in his eyes again. The one I couldn’t read, but that made me feel like someone was tugging on a string tied somewhere inside me. “Come on,” he said at last, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, settling his hand on my side just below my heart. “We’re not breaking the bond tonight. So let’s go home. The pack council can deal with the rest of this bullshit until tomorrow.”
I leaned into him, and together we limped our way toward the shack of solitude.
***
“You should probably take the first shower.” I kicked off my boots with a groan of satisfaction and then a moue of disgust. Running, wading through a stream, running some more, being captured, and then getting more or less doused in blood hadn’t done the insides of those boots any favors. “And I think these need to be burned.”
Ian swooped down, picked up the boots, and unceremoniously flung them out the open front door. “No arguments here. Are you saying I smell as bad as they do?”
