Page 55 of Wretched Thorns

“Okay.”

Tara blinked.

“Okay,” he said.

“That’s it.”

“That’s it.”

“You don’t get to just say okay, Dex.”

“Why not.”

“Because that is not how this works. You don’t get to just placate me. I know how pack hierarchy works…”

“We fall outside the norm.”

“How so?”

“We’re not Thornwood pack, or Beaumont, or Devereaux. We’re the rejects. Rowena’s the closest thing to an alpha for us, Callum probably would be, but he’d never move against his mom. Besides, the trips function as one, and somehow I’ve been blessed enough to be counted as a brother too. There’s no competition here.”

He took two steps closer. Ten feet became six.

“Besides, Rowena raised me not to argue with women braver than I am,” he said. “And you’re braver than I am. You made it clear you’re not afraid of the big bad wolf.”

His little corner smirk was gone. Replaced by something that felt all too real.

“Tara.”

“What.”

“You are not going to lose her.”

She stopped moving. He had stopped moving, too.

“Dex.”

“I am telling you. We are getting her back. I am telling you as a man who has hunted three Beaumonts on dark roads and is going to hunt many more on darker ones. You are not going to lose her.”

Her hand came up to her own throat without her telling it to.

“I’ve been saying that to myself on repeat since I left Nashville. Hearing it from somebody...”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what.”

“Don’t be fucking…” She waved her hand to indicate all of him.

“All what?” He waved his hand back at her.

He took another step. And another. Cypress at his back became cypress at her back without her remembering having stepped backward. Bark rough through her thin shirt. His hand came up to rest flat against the trunk above her shoulder.

He didn’t touch her.

His eyes were full gold. Not flecked. Not catching the light. Gold.