Page 73 of Howling
It’s oddly calming.
Even my beast settles down, hypnotized by the simple action.
After a few minutes, she sits back on her heels with a frown, her nose crinkling adorably. “Last time, I was able to pull the energy from his fox and force him to heal. Right now, his beast is too depleted. I fixed the worst of his internal injuries, but I can’t do more without knocking him out completely. I don’t feel comfortable leaving him so vulnerable right now. He’ll heal almost as slowly as a human with the cuffs blocking him,” she says apologetically, regret wilting her shoulders, and she gently runs a single finger down Tyler’s battered face.
“Don’t blame yourself for this situation.” Anger roars through me that she’s taking the responsibility for his beating.“You have no reason to feel guilty. It was my decision to send Tyler into a dangerous situation without backup.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I wince when I realize that I’m snarling at her. I clear my throat, my voice turning gruff with admiration. “You handled yourself well. You kept us safe. That’s all we can do most days.”
A light blush fills her cheeks at my praise, and I shift uncomfortably under her golden gaze, angling my leg to hide my erection, liking her attention a little too much.
Chains clank, reminding me of my situation, and I glance down at the metal. While I don’t like having my strength and abilities repressed, detesting that I’m so weak, the way they mute my wolf is almost refreshing. It’s weird not to have to battle my beast every second of the day. It’s like being injected with a sedative, my muscles slowly unwinding after decades of being on edge.
It should be relaxing, yet every hair on my body rises at the unnatural sensation, the chains making me feel more out of control than ever. Although, since Frankie burst into our lives, my beast has been more alert than he has in decades. I don’t make the mistake of thinking he is sane, but the constant noise in my head is quiet.
I don’t fucking trust it.
He watches her almost compulsively, afraid that if he looks away for even a second, she might disappear. She will leave, it’s inevitable, and I’m worried about what will happen when she does.
Though Frankie is more than capable of holding her own, I’m terrified of my reaction to her. If my beast snaps, I fear she will be dead before I can stop him. I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my life, but I don’t think I could live with knowing that I snuffed out her life.
She is precious, special in a way that I can’t describe.
Though my beast feels protective of her now, I can’t gamble on the chance that he might get distracted and hurt her by accident. He snarls at the thought that we would ever harm her, the furry ass completely forgetting we were stalking her in the kitchen less than twenty-four hours ago.
The beast rolls his eyes and sulks.
Playing.
The word is so quiet that I almost don’t hear it. Images of him and a tiny wolf jumping around fill my head.
Tiny wolf ours.
Not hurt.
I’m poleaxed when his voice echoes in my head, and I collapse against the rough stone wall at my back, barely noticing the cold seep into my flesh. Five hundred years have passed since I last heard him talk. Though his thoughts are simple, they’re sure and strong…and affronted at the idea of us hurting the girl.
Worse, I almost believe him.
The beast sniffs the metal, a silent snarl curling his snout, and he tries to claw and snap at it.
Need to protect what is ours.
The beast isn’t wrong. We’re barely better than human at this point. We can’t keep her safe this way. We need to remain focused on our task.
Keep little wolf safe.
It’s like his words are law. The fogginess in my head clears at the demand. It’s amazing not to have to monitor myself every second of the day, but the peaceful sensation feels almost alien.
I’m distracted from my introspection when Frankie speaks.
“The first stage of our escape is removing these fucking chains.” She hooks her fingers into her left manacle and pulls. Her delicate muscles flex, tugging on the quarter-inch metalband. Dante and I reach forward at the same time to help her, but it’s not needed.
A second later, the metal joints crack and the cuff parts.
Logically, I know she’s a shifter, but seeing her peel open the manacle is sexy as fuck.
Dante must feel the same because his eyebrows rise, and he watches her, unblinking, as she efficiently snaps the second cuff away as well. Everyone is silent as the chains slink to the ground with a clang. Frankie glances up, then pauses when she finds herself at the center of attention.
