Page 91 of Campfires & Canines
He kisses down my neck. I recognize now that he is replacing the scent of his brother with his own. Claiming me again in this small way.
"Take me home," I rasp.
A throat clears, the noise cutting through my fog. Slate sets me on my feet so fast I almost fall, but his grip on my waist is steel.
The Alpha, my uncle, stands there. His hands are in his pockets and his eyebrows are the highest I've ever seen them. "Hazel, you're home," he acknowledges.
My face is on fire. "I'm sorry. Yeah."
A smile creases his face. The joy at my homecoming is stronger than my embarrassment. I dive towards him and he wraps me in one of his massive hugs. "You're safe." His voice falters. Is he crying?
"Jasper decided to help me escape," I fill in, "and Slate met us..." I turn to my mate. "How did you know to be there?"
"Someone texted me." He shrugs. I give him a pointed look.
"You should have told me," Heath warns, glowering at Slate.
Slate dips his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to risk anyone else if it was a set-up."
Heath's jaw ticks. "We can talk about this later."
"Sir? Her wrist was injured," Slate interjects.
“Sable is probably still awake. She’s a night owl,” Heath says.
Great. Now it'll be hours until I can get Slate alone again.
Slate
Sable's home looks older than the other cabins. It's built of rough stacked stones instead of timber. Growing up, I imagined it was some sort of witch cottage here long before our pack arrived.
Hazel sits on a raised bench, the warm light of overhead lanterns turning her skin and hair a deeper gold. I hover nearby. Sable wants me to leave, but it's not going to happen.
Sable gently unwraps the filthy bandage and turns Hazel's wrist over. She makes a thoughtful humming noise which means she finds something interesting.
Hazel is distracted by the shelves of glass jars and bundles of herbs hung from the rough-hewn beams across the ceiling. I love seeing her face relaxed like this. Sable cocks her head, causing her long braid to slip over her shoulder.
I can't stand waiting a second longer. "Is she okay?"
"Of course," Sable murmurs.
"I'm fine." Hazel chimes in, rolling her eyes. As if she wasn't just held captive by our enemies for three days.
Heath looms in the doorway, his arms crossed. The muscles in his forearms twitch and his hands clench.
"What happened to your wrist?" He asks.
Hazel bites her lip, looking tired. I want to hold her, sweep her away to rest.
"Um, Sienna. She broke it, or tried to." She shrugs as if it is no big deal.
It hasn't occurred to me how the injury happened, or I assumed it was during the kidnapping. Hearing it was my own mother who intentionally hurt my mate, my breath hitches. A growl rumbles from my chest without my permission. I am sure my eyes are glowing green.
"I, apparently, disrespected her," Hazel adds.
Heath's face is stone. I can feel his rage pouring off him in waves. He is as angry as I am, and I find it comforting.
"I'm going to kill her," I snarl. It's out of turn, but I can't help it.
