“You know,” I say, running my hand up the back of her leg, “Some women get turned on by fighters.” It was a stupid move. Trying to flirt with an angry female is about as dumb as trying to flirt with one I’d just kidnapped. And it gets me about as far.
She removes her gloves and slaps me with them. “You are lucky I don’t rip your head off. What were you thinking, fighting Nash?”
I try to push up on my elbows, but she puts her hand on my sternum and presses me back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. It was the only thing I could think of to talk to him.”
She shakes her head and I cringe when I see tears swimming in her eyes. I’d rather have Nash stab my heart out again than live with hurting my female.
“Sam, I’m dying.” Fresh pain lances through my healing wounds. “I don’t know how long I have-a year until I lose significant body control? Another year after that until my brain degenerates and I become a vegetable? I watched my mom go through it, and it’s not a pretty sight.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t ask you to go through that.”
“Layne, what are you saying?”
“I can’t do this. I can’t be in a relationship.”
Jesus Christ. She’s breaking up with me. Even though I have nothing to offer her, every organ in my body revolts, ready to stop functioning in protest of her leaving.
Except… she still looks mad. Which means I must have a chance here. A mad female is totally different than a resigned one. It means she cares.
She pokes a finger in the middle of my chest. “But you, you’re not dying, Sam Smith. You’re a smart, young, attractive, and extremely capable wolf with his whole life ahead of him. You do not get to throw your life away on this stupid quest of yours.”
I stare at her, unsure which part of her diatribe to pay attention to. Smart, young, attractive? My wolf wants to do a little puppy dance around her legs. But then I absorb the rest of it.
“It’s not a stupid quest.”
Dr. Layne Zhao can be stubborn. But she has no idea how single-minded I can be. I made a vow not to rest until I took Smyth down, and I intend to follow through.
The fight goes out of Layne and her shoulders sag, which is far, far worse than seeing her pissed off. “I didn’t mean it that way. I realize you’re trying to help people, too. You’re trying to prevent further injustice, and that’s a worthy cause, but at what cost?” She spreads her hands, gaze pleading. “It’s not worth giving your life for.”
There’s a brick-size block in my chest that won’t move, despite Layne’s words. Settling the score with Smyth is my life’s purpose. I don’t care if I die doing it. In fact, I always figured I would.
“Layne…” I rub my forehead. “I don’t have a life. I’m broken. Smyth broke me before I even became a man. You saw Declan and Laurie and Nash. They’re broken, too. I don’t have anything to live for-I never have. So, you and I, we’re the same. You’re using your last hours to further science and save lives. I’m using mine to finish this.”
A tear streaks down Layne’s face, but she smacks the unwounded side of my chest. “You’re wrong! You’re not broken, you’re just damaged. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s that wolves heal. So heal yourself, dammit. You have friends who care about you. You have-” She stops and swallows. “You have me. Your mate.”
I swoop up and reach for her, gather her up against my chest. The scent of her tears has my wolf tearing his fur out to fix this. “Do I? I thought you were just trying to tell me goodbye.”
She slaps my chest again. “It will be goodbye if you ever pull a stunt like this again!” she cries through her tears.
“Baby.” I pull her even closer, stroke her ebony hair. “My beautiful doctor. I’m sorry I upset you.”
She tries to pull away. “Don’t say you’re sorry you upset me. Say you’ll stop. Say you’ll honor the life you have. If not for yourself, for me. Because I don’t get one.”
My throat closes and my eyes sting. I bury my face in her hair. “I promise,” I murmur gruffly.
Someone clears their throat. The guys have all returned. Declan and Laurie look a bit dazed by the sight of me and Layne. Parker marches forward with a battered cooler and sets it on the bench.
“Here,” he says. “Fresh meat. You need to replenish your blood.”
“Is it wise to eat now?” Layne looks appalled at the juicy cut of raw steak I lift out of the cooler.
“Oh yeah,” I moan, ripping into it. “Food of the gods.”
“Nash is gone,” Parker says. “He left some pretty big claw marks on the door, too. But he just texted me a place and time.”
“Does that mean-” Layne trails off.
Parker nods. “He’s willing to meet.”
Layne
NASH LIVES in a trailer much like Sam’s safe house, set onto the side of a hill.
The former soldier steps onto the porch as Sam’s van pulls up. He’s barefoot, wearing fatigues and an army green t-shirt. He crosses his arms over his impressive chest as we all troop out and climb to his front porch.
“I tried to get them to stay behind,” Sam jerks his thumb at Declan and Laurie.
“We’re a crew,” Declan declares. “Besides, I brought hooch.”
A low rumble starts in Nash’s chest, but it cuts off and he steps back to allow us all in.
“Are you crazy?” I whisper to Declan as we file in.
The Irishman shrugs. “You tamed the kitty.”
Nash turns, glowering. “I heard that.”
“Oh look, the pack’s all here,” Parker calls from the couch. He raises a red cup in toast.
“We’re not a pack,” Nash says.