Page 32 of Break Out the Girl

As he turns, she steps into his path, wrapping her arms tight around his torso. A second later, London collapses into her, burying his face into the crook of her neck, shaking hands clutching at the damp vinyl of her coat.

Over the top of his wild red hair, Aurora’s blue eyes meet mine.

There’s no confusion in her face. No questions. It’s like she was watching and waiting for this. She was ready for the boy to crack.

My sweet, empathic girl.

Rory holds him, her fingers gently combing through the knots at the back of his neck. She’s murmuring things too soft for even my wolf-ears to catch. Slowly, she pulls back just enough to look at him, then, with one elegant finger, tilts his face down towards her.

I watch as she presses a gentle, lingering kiss against his mouth.

Fuck.

I'm watching the girl I love kiss another man.

But it works. Her lips act like a circuit-breaker flipping London back to life.

He doesn't kiss her back but the boy's shaking shoulders settle under her touch.

Pack, my wolf rumbles. Good.

Good?

Pack. Strong.

London pulls away from Rory, the sparkle back in his green eyes. Shit, he does look better, stronger. And I feel good about that.

Fucking wolf-senses.

“Thanks, Kitten,” London grins. “I was getting stuck down the old mole-hole, no good to anyone, especially the fishes. Time to get things ship-shape and Bristol fashion.” He flicks off another couple of buttons on the control panel, then hits a switch that starts a small strobing light on the prow. “Shall we sally forth?”

François shakes a duffel bag. “I audited the onboard assets. Two short-range walkie-talkies, a comprehensive medical kit, three bottles of water, trailmix and…” He pulls out a handful of rubber-soled footwear. “…several pairs of neoprene water shoes. I suggest we put them on. Anything is an upgrade from our current items.”

“I like my slippers,” London whines, “They’re so cozy on my toesies.”

François ignores him, passing the smallest pair to Aurora, then a large pair to me. “Thanks.”

“You should wear them too, London. Keep your slippers dry for after,” I suggest, the echo of our bond making me more gentle with him than normal.

London grins at me. “Ooh, you make a very good point.” He grabs a pair and inspects the rubber shoes. “Nice grip, goat-approved.”

François hands out the water bottles. “I’ll refill them when you’re done.”

“We can’t drink seawater, silly,” London giggles.

“I do realize that,” François sighs. “Nuts?”

We all shove down a handful of trailmix, then disembark onto the dinghy.

Now it’s fully daylight, the painted name ‘Sadie-Mae’ is visible on the boat’s side. I untie the towing line as London sets the sails, and soon we’re moving away from the abandoned jetboat.

Aurora sits up front, trailing her fingers in the water, while François and I are seated in the middle. London has the rudder, and at the same time pulls the sail line as the canvas catches the morning breeze. “Keep your eyes peeled for sandbanks and pirates, everyone. We need to come in on the lee side of the island.”

London’s green eyes keep scanning the water ahead as he steers the tiller. “The wind is coming off the north flats, see? If we try to hit the eastern cliffs, the surf will smash our little Sadie-Mae into a bean-eating toothpick. So we go around the back, nice and quiet-like.”

“We must also presume the primary perimeter will be heavily monitored,” François adds. Having clipped a walkie-talkie to his waist, must make him think he’s a Navy Seal or whatever. Twat.

“Just aim for the cove we saw on the map, London,” I grunt, watching the foggy outline of an island get closer.