“Try again,” I whisper to my friend.
He glances my way with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance crinkling the corner of his eyes.
I wave a hand between him and her like it’s obvious, but now they’re both sighing at me.
Whatever that passive hostility means.
“You mentioned my mother,” she whispers, and the deepest, saddest blue eyes look to Latham like she could drown him in the depths of her oceanic gaze.
He nods.
She lowers her head, and I can see her thinking this through. Her pack doesn’t want her. Hell, after tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re ordered to kill her, much less shun her. The little fucker who threatened her flashes before my eyes, and I make a mental note to run one lasterrandbefore we head for the Ice Mountains.
She has nothing here. And we can take her to her mother. Her homeland.
Her place in life…
We’ve more than proved that we have the magic to make those things happen for her.
She’s really taking her sweet-ass time thinking this over though.
My fingers drum against my thigh as I wait.
And wait.
Fuck. Who has this kind of patience?
Rhys eyes her pack’s territory, and then us, and then back again like she’s truly weighing her limited options. Finally, a defeated sigh breaks past her lips.
“Okay,” she says with a slow nod that I think is meant to reassure herself rather than us.
“Okay!” I clap my hands with a wide smile that just seems to set her even more on edge. “Okay,” I try again with less enthusiasm and a smaller smile of encouragement.
She still looks at me like she isn’t sure if I’ll help her or kill her.
“Okay,” I say one more time so quietly the effort drifts off into total nothingness, and at this point, I need to just let it the fuck go.
“I want to go home first.”
Torben shakes his head. “Can’t go back to the village. We have to keep moving.”
“I’m leaving my adoptive mom, my best friend, and my entire life behind on a half-ass chance that you guys can actually take me to my mother. I’m not leaving my cat to die in my bedroom because Mary can’t be bothered to feed the poor thing. It’s just not right.”
“Your adoptive mom’s a cunt, your best friend mated with your prick of an enemy, and your cat will be fucking fine,” I tell her, but the flinch of her gaze and the hard pull of her brow tells me those words may have sounded a bit harsher out loud than I intended.
“He’ll be fine,” I try once more in a softer yet still growling tone.
Her glare is still a look of hellfire. It’s a death threat she gives to me, Torben, and even Latham.
So… I guess we’ll be making a pit stop for a fucking house cat.
Chapter Seven
Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Rhys
The tall man stays in the woods as Aric wraps me up in his arms without provocation.