Page 134 of Conner's Luna

His uncle gets up and moves away. Conner's dad releases his arms but stays next to us. I can hear Sean and his dad talking in low tones. Braxton is nowhere to be seen.

"Bailey? I am going to move Conner to the bed, now. Why don't you go to the bathroom and freshen up before lying down with him?"

I look up at the Grim, startled by the assumption that I am going to cuddle Conner all night long. I want to, but it's startling that his dad expects it... no... he's demanding it.

I am caught by the Grim's gaze. Conner has his father's eyes because I am staring into fathomless dark green irises. Like the color of moss. It should be so soft, but, yeah, no. Yup, scariest dude alive. "I'm OK," I whisper. I don't want to delay this man's plans for even a second. Stupid of me, since I would just soak the bed if I crawled into it like this.

He smiles gently. "Just hurry, OK? Sean will bring you clean clothes to change into, even though I like your pants."

I blush. I am wearing my Minions pajama pants with a Colorado State University sweatshirt and no bra. They are super comfy. I scurry into the bathroom and squint at myself in the mirror. The only light is from a lantern in the bedroom. It casts my face in an eerie light. I look haunted.

A knock on the door signals Sean's arrival. "Hey, Bails," he sounds relieved and exhausted. "Here's a light and some sweats. You need anything else?"

I shake my head and he smiles at me, the same gentle smile Conner's dad had given me. I feel a little pathetic. These men, I mean wolves, are being so careful with me, but Conner is the one in danger. What happened? Was it... was it Lydia? I'm missing something here, something important.

I flip the switch on the lantern and blink in the harsh light. When I get used to the sudden light I look in the mirror and gasp. Little flecks of blood cover my clothes and arms. My hair... I forgot that I had put my hair in two braids. One of them is half-undone, the hair tie is long gone. I am pale, with circles of stress under my eyes. Crap, I look like a crazy, ax-murdering eight-year-old girl.

I take the little-girl braids out and do my businessfastbefore changing into the oversized sweats and t-shirt Sean brought me.

Conner is moaning softly when I get out. The Grim is watching me closely as I scoot into the bed, resting my head next to Conner with my hand on his stomach. It is the only part of me that is touching him. His father must have changed him, no shirt and new sweatpants. Most of the blood has been wiped away and Sean's dad is finishing wiping up the floor.

The Grim tucks us in, the movement surreal. I haven't been tucked in since the night my mom died. Dad doesn't do tucking; we end up talking too much and I never go to sleep.

My dad.

I gasp and sit up. Conner's dad smiles at my face. "I'll call your dad and explain that you got caught in the storm. No need to worry, Bailey." I stare at him. How did he know?

"I'm a dad, too, you know." He winks and tucks me back in. Then, sorrow hanging heavy on his shoulders, he re-fastens the muzzle over Conner's mouth. I watch him do it, seeing how carefully he avoids Conner's glinting teeth. The strap is digging into his cheeks just enough to leave faint red lines. It's bizarrely cruel.

"Didn't think I'd smell like this pup again," his Dad snorts as one of the sharp teeth snag his skin and rip it open a little. It heals right in front of my eyes. Granted, it was a tiny scratch, but holy crap. The Grim kisses my forehead then walks out.

"Your dad is scary, Conner," I whisper to my unconscious boyfriend. I snuggle closer, watching his face, hoping that it stays relaxed in slumber.

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34 - Our Female

Conner

Flashes of dark, silky hair taunt us. The scent of flowers and female makes our tongue swell, our canines dig into our lips and gums. We bite, snapping at the air, needing to sink into pretty feminine flesh.

Then it's gone. We roar. We howl. The pain radiating through our body as our mate bond gasps out its last breath twists and turns, making us howl in sorrow and regret. We have lost her.

The female.

We are lost. Blind. There is nothing left to seek. Pain builds and builds until all we thought we are has been decimated and ruined. Feral. Wrong. The swell of agony crashes and washes over us in waves until it's washed away, leaving only an empty shell of a wolf behind.

We are in a black hole with nothing. Only us, the storm raging far away and one faint, tantalizing scent of honeysuckle.

We breathe in through the searing pain in our chest. Pretty scent. We want it. It's all that exists here in this excruciating void.

Our female.

Honeysuckle teases us and every part of us screams. This is not pain. This is worse. All we know is that scent. Everything else falls away. Nothing else is important. We will murder for that scent. Rip open our own chest so that she can bury herself inside, safe and protected. Bleed out the wrong, the hollowness, so that she can fill us up with her sweet body, her scent, her soul.

Our honeysuckle female. Where is she?!

We roar again, slashing blindly at the pain, at the dark, shadowy figures preventing us from finding her. Our body aches to shift, to hunt her down, to bite and Mark and Claim.

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