Page 108 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
They did this to punish us both.
It’s the worst thing they could have done—to put the man I love through hell and to make me watch, to lock me in this roomwith him while he suffers. He could die and Gideon wouldn’t care. My father will just sell me to the next available alpha, eager to get as many heirs as he can.
“Javi,” I breathe, covering my mouth with my hands.
All I can do is watch as he twists and writhes on the floor, alternating between lucidity, vacancy, and uncontrollable laughter. I start to get scared when his claws come out, the beginning of a transformation that could end with me shredded into ribbons on the floor. I shuffle toward the bed and curl up into a ball, watching as he loses himself to the kraken.
Our bond flickers, turns to static again, comes back…
“Don’t go,” I whisper. “Please don’t go.”
Javi’s body twists and morphs, his jaw extending. I’ve seen his wolf before—I’m certain of it, since he won the hunt—but never close up in the light. He’s the biggest lycan I’ve ever seen, with blue-black fur and glassy green eyes, absolutely covered in scars. The wolf sways on his feet, lies down, rolls onto its side.
It takes desperate, panting breaths.
And he cries…whimpers.
I crawl toward him again, my eyes wide as I stare down at the creature I know so well.
It’s Javi, but it’s not.
He’s here, but he’s not.
We’re in this in between place, and I hate it.
The wolf’s chest rises and falls too fast, his tongue lolling out. His eyes are huge and shining, his pupils the size of dinner plates, spinning and spinning. I’m surprised he’s not violently ill, with how dizzy he must be—especially when I’m getting queasy myself.
Of course, that’s probably the pregnancy, and that somehow just twists the knife deeper.
I reach out with a hesitant touch, but Javi doesn’t so much as twitch when I weave my fingers in his fur. I move into thewolf’s reach completely, extending my arms to wrap him in an embrace. I rest my head on his side. His heart beats erratically, desperately, like he’s trying to live.
There’s nothing I can do to stop his pain, and that kills me.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Javi doesn’t respond.
He just takes more panting breaths as he dives into the fight of his life.
27
PEACHES
Javi stays unresponsive and fully shifted in our room for a whole day, despite my requests for medical help. I even try to open the door, willing to risk going out into the hallway and potential punishment, but they’ve locked us in. No one comes to get me, no one brings something to eat. I spend most of the morning curled up with him, my head on his chest as he continues to gasp for air.
He can’t keep going like this, can he?
He has to get better or worse.
…he doesn’t.
We’re trapped in limbo, between life and death.
Morning turns to afternoon, then the sun sets outside the grimy old window. I don’t move from his side, drifting in and out of sleep after a totally sleepless night, breathing him in. The ugly thought that I should appreciate this time—that he could be gone any second —keeps intruding on me, and I keep crying.
The hard part is waiting. Now knowing if anyone is coming for us.
Looking at Javi and seeing him right beside me, but unable to feel our bond.
