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Curling up around him, sharing my heat seems like a pretty good idea, but over the last few months, he’s made himself clear. I’m not his mate, and cozying up to him—even if it’s to warm him up—doesn’t seem right without his consent.
Besides, we’re shifters. The cold and wet might really be a struggle for humans. To me? It’s just an annoyance I have to get over.
It’s not like we’re going to be in here long anyway. I just need Tristan to wake up, tell me he’s okay, and between the two of us, we can get back to the pack house and wait for Fallon and Lucas to return.
That’s the plan. And if I swore I caught the scent of blood and shit outside of our hidey-hole about ten minutes after I arrive, I refuse to leave Tristan’s side to check it out. So long as they don’t try to attack us again, they can check out the waterfall and fucking move along.
I think that’s what happened. The smell fades, or maybe I’m high on being this close to Tristan, his scent surrounding me for more than a few quick moments. And then I got antsy enough that I had to take a peek and then it didn’t matter what my brilliant plans were…
But, hey. At least he’s breathing. I can hear him. It isn’t labored, either, but when it picks up a little after being even for so long, my ear twitches.
Is he?—
Yes.
He stirs for a second, eyes fluttering before they suddenly snap open. His head swivels, and the first word out of his mouth is my name.
“Jeannie? Where are you?”
I was sitting on the floor of the cave opposite of him, arms wrapped around my knees while I watched him. My heart leaps into my throat as I calls out for me. I have to swallow it first before I can answer him.
“Here.” It comes out as a croak. I swallow again. “Sorry. I’m here, Tristan.”
He shudders. “Thank the Luna. And you found the cave.”
Obviously. “Um. Yeah.”
Tristan pulls himself up into a sitting position. “What about the witches?”
“They’re dead,” I tell him. Because, oh yeah, I’m pretty sure about that. “I don’t think we have to worry about them trying to come after us again.”
Of course not. Not after what one of them did…
Tristan cocks his head. I can’t really see his features, more like his shape since it’s grown dark outside and even my shifter’s eyes need a little more light than that, but I… I sense the motion.
Just like the Beta can sense that I’m holding something back.
“That’s good. And you’re alright?”
“I’m fine. You?”
“Been better,” he admits softly, “but I’ll be fine in no time. I’m good enough to take the trek back to the pack house, though. We can head there and then you can tell me what in the name of the Luna you thought you were doing, trying to sacrifice yourself for me.”
Look who’s talking. If he hadn’t jumped in between me and a psycho witch in the first place, he never would’ve been hurt. And it’s not like I wanted Claude to kill me. But if it came down to me or Tristan… yeah. I would’ve done it.
I would’ve sacrificed my life for the mate who rejected me.
The mate who… is absolutely furious at the idea I would even think I would, and only hanging onto his control because he’s terrified of pushing me any farther away than he already has.
Wait…
How do I know that? I would only know that if Tristan opened up his end of our bond, no longer blocking it, but actually inviting me to have a front row seat to his thoughts and emotions instead.
As hard to believe as that is, I have to admit that the sensation of jabbing glass I’m so used to when he’s around… I haven’t felt it since he burst into the clearing where the witches ambushed me.
I don’t get it. And I wish that was the only thing I had to think about right now, but it isn’t.
I doubt he can see me, but I give him a wry smile all the same. “Yeah. About going back to the pack house…”
