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Dean clenched his fist, pressing it against the muscle of his thighs. “Kaleb has asked for you.” He reminded me. “My wolf took a bullet for you, and you want to go home?”
I didn’t like the look on his face.
Disgust.
I told myself that it was better that way. I needed my calming smoothies. I needed the comfort of my wards. I needed to protect myself.
But… Kaleb had taken a bullet for me.
I hung my head. One breath. And another.
My heart rate began to slow, and Dean relaxed when he heard the sound. The Alpha reached out and put his hand on myshoulder. Every muscle in my body locked, but Dean pretended not to notice.
“He’s fine,” Dean told me. “He’s awake and unharmed. No permanent damage.”
“It’s my fault.” My lips were numb, and though the words were true, I wasn’t sure what I was referring to. My fault that Kaleb had gotten hurt, or my fault that Joel McGowen had gathered the HAOB against me and tried to put me down.
Dean walked to the staff door, putting his hand on the small of my back as he led me through the club. Every step was robotic, and my mind was far away, unable to feel anything aside from the warmth of his hand through my bloodstained clothes.
I told myself it was because I hadn’t been touched in so long.
I was like a feral cat, startled that physical touch and affection still existed because I’d been denied both for so long.
Dean led me to a set of stairs behind a door on the right. The smell of stale beer greeted me, and the concrete walls exuded a chill that had nothing to do with air conditioning.
I smelled blood and magic. Our footsteps clanged against the metal spiral staircase, leading us into the darkness. I struggled with the lack of light until we passed the rows of metal beer barrels and pressure gauges lining the path to the back room, where Kaleb lay on a makeshift gurney.
“Melly?” I said, startled when I saw the older witch gathering the bloody gauze and placing it in a metal trash can. She glanced up, giving me a tired but genuine smile.
“You’re up late, Miss Mallory.” She reached into her pocket and produced a pack of matches. “But I’m glad you’re not hurt.”
“I didn’t know you were a healer,” I said lamely.
She tossed the match into the waste paper bin, and the scent of burning cotton and blood filled the air momentarily.The fire rose high and died in an instant. “I’ve got a few tricks.” Melly winked. “I’ve lived in Locket for a long time and appreciate all the Wolfkin do for our town.” She slanted a look at Dean, though he pretended not to be interested in our conversation. “It’s only right to offer back where I can. Especially when they keep our valley free from monsters.”
“Huh.” I chuffed thoughtfully. I wasn’t sure whether to feel anger at Melly or my grandmother for keeping me in the dark about the Durrach and the Huntsman.
“Kaleb Morrow has fallen asleep. The pain potion doesn’t always agree with the older wolves—and Kaleb is older than most of the Kings and Queens of the Aos Sí.” Melly hooted. “He was speaking all sorts of gibberish. Shíorghra, this and that. He called me aráitseach,whatever that means.”
Dean choked a laugh. “Raw-itch-ekr?” He pronounced the word back, deliberately enunciating the syllables.
Melly nodded. “I take it to mean beautiful, youthful, and clever. Or something to that effect.”
“Or something,” Dean muttered as he looked down at Kaleb’s sleeping form.
I’d often heard my grandmother speak in Irish Gaelic when she felt particularly irked by something. I didn’t have the heart to tell Melly that Kaleb had called her a ‘prattling floozy.’
“Melly,” Though Dean was close, I stepped toward her, lowering my voice. “Do you have any of my special herbs in your bag? I didn’t have time to bring some from home.”
Melly whistled through her teeth. “I only brought essentials, dear.” She gave me an apologetic look. “But I’ll drop some off at your shop when I’m in town. Is that all right?”
I didn’t want Dean to know how badly I needed those herbs. If he pressed Melly for answers, I wasn’t sure if she would give them. She was my grandmother’s friend, and thoughI trusted her to a point, my grandmother had always told me to be wary of everyone.
I looked down at Kaleb, his silver hair streaked with blood and his face pale and clear of expression as he slept. I reached out and placed my hand on his, squeezing his fingers. He had gotten hurt because of me. Because I’d chosen Joel. Because my magic wasn’t strong enough, and my wards had faded with my grandmother's death.
I quickly pulled my car keys from my pocket and found the hamster keychain. It had a cowboy hat and sang ‘Rawhide’ when you pressed its belly. I unclipped the hamster and placed it in Kaleb’s hand, tucking his fingers around the fluffy cowboy.
Once it became clear that Kaleb was out cold, Dean directed me from the room. Again, placing his hand on my bicep as he led me away. I knew what he was doing, though he would never voice it out loud—Dean Hart was marking me with his scent. Making it clear to the wolves under his care that I was not to be harmed, though I was Fae.
