Page 107

I peered at the clubhouse through the fence, it was dark, quiet. They were no doubt all at the bar blowing off some steam.

I locked the Morris and walked in. People milled around, drinking, laughing, some danced.

The hounds…not so much. They stood in small subdued groups around the room, quietly sipping their beers. They may have limited emotions, but they’d just lost one of their brothers in a fucking awful way, and they were feeling it.

I glanced down at the cut on my arm, and the pain grew and built inside me. I’d made a blood oath tonight to let my sister die.

We had no idea how much time we had left with her, and I was grieving.

I was grieving for Rose, and I was grieving for Ren, because he was strong, stronger than he’d ever believed, but after seeing the way that spirit had affected Edric, I knew my sweet fox would never be the same again.

God, I felt like I was coming undone, like I was about to unravel right here in front of everyone. My heart was in my throat as I searched the room for Warrick. My need to be close to him growing into a desperate ache. I turned, scanning the rest of the room, while my mother’s words filtered through my head.

Love isn’t what someone says, it’s what they do.

I was in love with Warrick, I was sure of that now. And no, Warrick didn’t feel the same, he’d told me himself he wasn’t capable of it, and that male was a man of his word—but he did care, in his own way, I truly believed he cared for me beyond animal need.

He’d promised me loyalty and devotion, and that was more than a person could hope for in this life, right?

People touted love as a reason to trust, throwing the word around willy-nilly, then turned around and took a dump on that person with their next breath. Romantic love didn’t automatically equal faithfulness or commitment. I’d seen that with my own eyes so many times.

I didn’t need Warrick to love me back, I just needed him to be loyal and trustworthy, and he’d proven himself to be both more times than I could count.

A tingling sensation slid across my shoulders. He was here, he was watching me. I turned and my gaze collided with his. He stood with two of his brothers on the other side of the room. He leaned against the end of the bar; his fingers curled around a squat glass of amber liquid.

Warrick didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge me, just watched me and waited.

I’d had a protective wall around me most of my life. I didn’t like showing weakness of any kind. I’d viewed love as emotional weakness and I’d never let myself go there. I’d never let anyone I’d dated know that I cared, or that I might need them, even for a moment.

That part of me wanted to lift my chin and stand my ground, it wanted me to force him to come to me. But he’d been doing that already, he’d shown up every time I needed him. He’d made it clear that he cared the only way he knew how, and now it was my turn to do the same.

And I was terrified.

Without allowing myself to chicken out, I strode toward him. He tracked me, but still, he didn’t move and his expression didn’t change. My heart was in my throat, every part of me afraid that he’d turn me away, that he’d tell me he’d given up on me. Going into battle was less intimidating than this.

I stopped in front of him. “Hey.”

He said nothing, just took a sip of his drink. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jagger and another hound walk away, and I was thankful for it. Yes, he told me to come find him if I needed him, but he wasn’t going to make this easy on me, and he proved it by looking away from me. I deserved that.

I curled my fingers around his forearm, and the muscle bunched beneath my palm. “Warrick.”

He gave me nothing.

“Please…will you look at me?”

His gaze slid to me, hard and unfeeling, and I wanted to shrivel in on myself. He was giving back what I’d given him, and it hurt like hell.

It would be so easy to run, to save myself from the possibility of rejection, of humiliation, but I loved the stubborn bastard, and if I didn’t try, if I gave up on us, I’d never forgive myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Still, I got nothing from him, just that hard, cold stare.

Desperation slammed into me, and I ducked under his arm that rested on the bar. My chest brushed his and his scent filled my head. I gripped the sides of his shirt at his waist. “Please, Warrick,” I rasped, pressing my head to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. I was scared, and I was trying to fix everything, and I pushed you away. I don’t want Clayton. I don’t want anyone else.”

His chest expanded, and he leaned forward, trapping me between him and the bar.

I tilted my head back and looked into his golden eyes. “I just want you.”