room. Henry held his breath while Ophelia glanced between them, her uncertainty feeding into Henry’s nerves. He would get her outside if tensions escalated further, although... the sorcerer could potentially steal her if she was outside. Maybe upstairs. Maybe the kitchen.
He was still sorting through contingency plans when Deirdre finally said, “Call him at your own risk, bucko. You will pay a price if you insist on getting him involved in my business. Again.”
And her cold gaze raked the alpha from head to toe.
Henry practically had frostbite just from proximity, and would have howled with amusement at the alpha’s red face if the stakes hadn’t been so high.
The alpha growled deep in his chest but didn’t say anything. He also didn’t move to strangle his mate, which was the closest Deirdre would get to a concession that she’d won that particular battle of wills.
Henry cleared his throat and squeezed Ophelia’s arm. “Let’s get you some food in the kitchen, then I will take you to Deirdre’s workroom. We should let them work out their…strategy.”
His mate eyed the two alphas, still scowling at each other, and edged closer to Henry’s side. “Yeah. That sounds like a safe— Like a good idea.”
“Take your time,” Deirdre said, steely-eyed and with lightning sparking around her.
“Count on it,” Henry said under his breath. He hustled Ophelia into the kitchen, his hands still on her waist, and ignored that Cricket had helped himself to the ham and turkey from the sandwiches he’d dropped on his way to catching Ophelia.
He breathed a little easier once they were away from the tension in the living room, and enveloped Ophelia in a tight embrace the moment the door swung shut behind them. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her hair, glad she’d used his shampoo and smelled even more like him, then exhaled some of the nerve-racking worry. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Her voice came out muffled but still a little lost. “I’m the one who—”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you had to talk to that asshole,” he said. Henry grumbled and maneuvered them over to the fridge, though he couldn’t tolerate the thought of releasing her. He could make sandwiches with one arm. And Ophelia didn’t seem inclined to move away, instead wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her head against his shoulder. Henry squeezed her tight again. “I’ll deal with him. Don’t worry about him. It’ll be over soon.”
“I wish he hadn’t found me,” she said. “Every time I think I might be safe or happy or just… okay, he shows up, and—”
“This is the last time,” Henry said. He projected as much confidence as he could, knowing she needed reassurance. Even if he wondered how they would defeat a sorcerer, she didn’t need to worry about it. He would figure it out and protect her. “He won’t bother you again. You will be safe and happy.”
She laughed a little and started to pull away. “You make that sound like a threat.”
He kept his arm looped around her as he pulled the sandwich stuff out of the fridge. “It’s a promise. A very serious promise.”
Ophelia moved farther away, and though he didn’t want to, he let her. If she needed space, he could deal with it. The wolf hated it, but he could accept the distance if she wanted it. Henry concentrated on feeding her, though he kept an ear tuned to the living room in case he needed to run in there and break up a fight. Maybe save the alpha’s life. Henry would never have bet against Deirdre in a tussle. She fought dirty.
The witch next to him rubbed her hands again, starting to look uncertain. “He’s hurting Silas, though. We don’t know what he’s done already. It won’t be good, and it’s possible that Silas won’t ever—”
“There’s no use imagining trouble,” Henry said. He leaned to kiss her quickly, then retreated again so she wouldn’t feel crowded. “We’ll find out in two hours. We need to focus on how we’re going to make the bastard pay. Silas is strong, stronger than almost anyone else in the pack. That sorcerer picked the wrong wolf to grab. Did you know Silas is ex-military? Or... well, ex-something. We think he was a mercenary.”
“A mercenary?” Ophelia’s eyebrows arched. “People still do that?”
“Apparently.” Henry’s wolf perked up to hear her misery fall away, replaced by curiosity. Good. He could keep her distracted and maybe that would prevent her from worrying