Page 67 of Sight of Fate

Reaching out, I glide my finger down the middle of the one on the right and hear his breath rush out. Puckered on the sides, the middle is smooth. Flattening my palms over his shoulder blades, I lightly run my hands down each side until I reach the end, then glide them back up. He grunts as his muscles contract. I want to ask him what happened, but I can tell how hard it was for him to show me.

I inch closer. Those aren’t the only scars on his back. There are a myriad of others crisscrossing his skin. A couple of them appear to be gunshot wounds. But it’s the four close together that have me puzzled. I lightly trace over them.

He turns to face me. “Shifter claws.”

I blink, and suddenly I’m back in last night’s battle, watching the wolf and Andros roll across the asphalt. “I saw them. On the wolf that ran away.”

“There was another wolf?” Macklin asks in a hard voice. “Name?” I try to recall if I heard anyone’s name and shake my head. “Did you see their faces? Before they shifted.” I nod. “Will you draw them for me, or is that asking too much? If not, I can wait until Andros is up to it.”

My fingers twitch with the need to capture them on paper. “I want to. Sketch them. Reduce them to lines on paper instead of the monsters in my nightmares.”

Macklin’s face softens. “I’ll get your sketchbook, then start breakfast. I’d like to take it with me this morning.”

“Are you going to the hospital? I’ll come with you.”

Teague stirs beside me. “Why don’t we let Macklin go to the hospital and check on Andros first. You need to rest some more.”

“Because you think he’ll be angry?” I ask, with a derisive laugh. “He’s pissed. Asked me why I didn’t let him die.”

Teague grunts. “He asked me the same thing seven hundred years ago. Andros only thinks he wants to die. Yet every time he is close, he fights to survive. He thinks there is nothing of consequence left for him, but I think if he opens himself up to the possibilities, he could find a reason to never leave this earth.”

Macklin shrugs. “Honestly, keep pushing him.”

I lift my head and stare at them. “Won’t that make everything worse?”

Macklin snorts. “Before you came to Greystone, Andros rarely displayed emotion. He locked it all behind that iron control of his. Which shattered the first week you were here. Not a bad thing. It’s about damn time he rejoined this world.”

I twist my fingers together. “What if he loses it again?” My voice trembles when I ask the one thing that terrifies me.

Teague twines his fingers with mine and squeezes. “Ronan told us that once Andros drank his mate’s blood—your blood—it would become a moot point. Said he would stab his own heart with a blunt wooden stake before harming a hair on your head.” He clears his throat. “Although, we’re going to make damn sure that’s the case before you’re alone with him.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

TEAGUE

Macklin studies the five men in her sketch. “I’ll go by the hospital first and check on Andros. Then pay a visit to Lawson.”

“Who’s Lawson?” Charli asks, her eyes darting between the two of us.

“He’s the alpha of the Crescent Mountain pack,” I tell her. “They have a ranch outside of town, near the tree line on the south side.” I glance at Macklin and silently tell him I want that wolf’s head. Literally. He subtly nods.

A line appears between her brows. “I thought Leif was the alpha?”

“He’s the alpha for the Vintervargarna—the Winter Wolves—pack,” I reply. “Each pack has their own alpha. It’s the same for most shifters, not just wolves, although the name varies—pack, clan, sleuth, pride, etc.”

She groans. “I’m so clueless.” Scooping up the last bite of eggs, she leans back and looks at Macklin. “That was delicious. Thank you. But I’m sad we still haven’t gone to the bakery yet.”

He stares at me, and I arch a brow, silently asking him when he’s going to claim her. Instead of answering me, he turns back to her. “We’ll go tomorrow morning.”

She beams at him. “Sounds good.”

“Why don’t we move your stuff before we go to the hospital?” I suggest, wondering if she’s going to balk in the light of day.

“What stuff?” Macklin asks, grabbing his keys.

“Charli’s moving in,” I say lightly.

She anxiously glances at Macklin as if she thinks he might object, and I want to snort. After what happened last night, neither of us wants her living on her own.