Page 34 of Brock’s Mate

I do not submit, she said loftily, and disappeared.

Nope. Not insane.

Just stubborn.

After telling Desi the good news—that her wolf seemed stable enough to work with, if not exactly cooperative—Brock got her things out of the car and sent her upstairs to settle in and clean up.

Or rather, he took her stuff upstairs and politely suggested maybe she’d want to do all that, because he already knew that this was a woman who could not be ordered around.

Not that he’d want to, of course. Order a woman around.

I would want to, his wolf grumbled. Because she is very annoying and contrary. She will not listen to us.

Yeah, I know.

You broke your promise. You promised no more.

I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do. If we don’t help her, she’ll probably get killed.

As he walked back down to the kitchen, he could hear, underneath his wolf’s accusation, the echoes of all that pain he’d absorbed over the years, trying to protect Brock.

Brock still felt guilty for not realizing that—until the wolf was too damaged, and the pain had turned to a burning rage that never stopped. And who the hell was going to heal him? There was no one.

He’d already suspected he was going to have to leave the crew before it all came crashing down, and he went completely rogue. Helping Desi just might be the last straw for his wolf. But he couldn’t make himself turn her in.

Brock poured himself another cup of coffee, contemplated for a minute, and then pulled a bottle out of the cupboard and added a big slug of whiskey.

This was what it had come down to. Breaking promises to his wolf, and whiskey for breakfast.

He took his mug out to the front porch, hoping that the fresh air would help ease the claustrophobic sensation in his chest.

It didn’t. The whiskey didn’t help it either, but it started him on the way to numb, which was the next best thing.

At least he had a little while to get his shit together.

Or not. He wasn’t even halfway through his whiskey-laced coffee when Phantom Nick appeared on the porch, sitting in the rickety Adirondack chair Brock kept out there, one of its legs propped up with cinder blocks.

Nick crossed his translucent arms. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Brock rolled his eyes. “Gee, Mom, did I miss curfew again? Am I going to get grounded?”

“You should be. You just disappear. You never call, you never write, you turn your phone off so Remy can’t track you…”

He was talking out loud instead of in Brock’s mind the way he usually did, so that meant Dragon Boy had done one of his special spells that made the ghosts audible.

“For fuck’s sake,” Brock said. “It’s been less than twelve hours. I even stayed until the end of speed dating last night.” Almost. “Plus, I left with a girl.” Kind of. “What the hell else do they want?”

“I’m not sure they know,” Nick said. “The girls are torn between worrying that you’re in trouble, and hoping you’re getting dick kisses and wild howling wolfgasms.”

Typical. “What about the guys?”

“Colt and Remy ate your share of the bacon during crew brunch.”

“Figures.”

“But Titan’s getting worry vibes, which makes Brandon edgy. You know how he gets.”

Brandon was the alpha, and he worried about everyone. Even when they’d rather he didn’t.