AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I trail off, unable to find the words to describe the emotions Marcus stirs in me.
Hannah leans forward, her expression turning serious. "Look, Zoe, we know you're not officially pack, but you're one of us now. And with everything that's been happening..."
"The threats," I finish for her. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm here, right?"
Chloe nods, her brown eyes wide behind her glasses. "It's scary," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've always felt safe here, but now..."
I reach out and squeeze her hand, trying to offer comfort even as my own anxiety rises. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Ryan and the others will figure this out."
As I say it, I realize I want to believe it, but doubt lingers. Despite my initial resistance to being here, there's a sense of security in knowing the pack has my back. And Marcus...
Hours pass as we continue to talk, our conversation drifting from topic to topic, a desperate attempt to distract ourselves from the looming threat. We discuss everything from our favorite books to childhood memories, but the tension never fully dissipates. Every so often, one of us will glance at the clock or the door, wondering when we'll hear news about the mission. The weight of uncertainty hangs heavy in the air, even as we try to maintain a facade of normalcy.
My thoughts are interrupted by a commotion downstairs. We exchange glances and rush to the window. In the fading light, I can make out a group of figures stumbling towards the house. My heart leaps into my throat as I recognize Marcus's broad shoulders, his arm slung around another wolf for support.
"They're back," Hannah whispers, but I'm already running for the door.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding. As I reach the foyer, the front door bursts open. The scene that greets me is one of chaos and blood.
Marcus staggers in, his shirt torn and stained red. His face is a mask of pain and fury, his eyes wild. When he sees me, something in his expression shifts.
"Zoe," he growls, his voice rough with pain and something else – something primal that makes my skin tingle.
I rush forward, heedless of the others around us. "Marcus, oh my god. Are you okay?"
He grunts in response, his eyes never leaving mine. I can see his wolf just beneath the surface, agitated and protective. As I reach out to steady him, his nostrils flare, and a low rumble emanates from his chest.
Ryan appears at Marcus's side, his expression tight with concern. "Marcus, you need to calm down. Your wolf—"
But Marcus isn't listening. His focus is entirely on me, his grip on my arm almost painful. "You're safe," he mutters, more to himself than to me.
I nod, trying to ignore the way my body is reacting to his touch, his scent. "I'm fine. But you're hurt. We need to get you cleaned up."
Ryan clears his throat, and I suddenly become aware of the tension in the room. The other wolves are watching us warily, clearly unsettled by Marcus's behavior.
"Zoe," Ryan says carefully, "maybe it would be best if you went back upstairs."
Marcus's growl deepens at this suggestion. "No," he snarls. "She stays with me."
I look at Ryan, seeing the understanding dawn in his eyes. He gives a slight nod. "Alright," he concedes. "Marcus, take Zoe to your place. You'll both be safer there."
As we start to leave, I turn to Marcus, concern etching my features. "Are you sure you're okay to drive? You've been through a lot tonight."
Marcus's eyes meet mine, a fierce protectiveness blazing in their depths. His voice is low and gravelly when he speaks, tinged with something primal. "I'm fine. I promise. I would never let anything happen to you, Zoe. Never."
The intensity of his words leaves me breathless. I nod, unable to look away from his penetrating gaze.
As we make our way to Marcus's truck, I can feel the eyes of the pack on us. But all I can focus on is the heat of Marcus's body next to mine, the way his hand hovers protectively at the small of my back.
The drive to Marcus's house is tense, filled with unspoken words and simmering emotions. When we finally arrive, I help him inside.
"Sit," I command, gesturing to the couch. "I'll get the first aid kit."
Marcus obeys, his eyes never leaving me as I move around his kitchen, searching for supplies. When I return, he's shirtless, and I have to force myself not to stare at his chiseled chest and abs, now marred by angry red scratches and bruises.
"This might sting," I warn as I begin cleaning his wounds. Marcus hisses but doesn't pull away.
As I work, the tension between us builds. I can feel his eyes on me, intense and hungry. My fingers tremble slightly as I apply antiseptic to a particularly nasty gash on his bicep.
