accept him. For the Tribus. For Fee.
It won’t be easy, but I’ll do it for my mate.
I’ll do anything for her, and I can’t lose her. It’ll break me.
She moans softly in her sleep and rubs her cheek against my chest. Her hand is on my abdomen, and it curls into a fist now. I stroke her arm and kiss her head again to soothe the bad dreams.
“You’re okay, Fee. I’ve got you.”
Long minutes slip by where the only sounds are the clatter of pans as Bobby cooks, and then Fee’s breathing grows shallower and faster.
“Hush, it’s okay.” I hold her tighter to lend her a feeling of security, and it seems to work.
Her breathing slows, but as I relax my hold on her, she arches suddenly, smacking her head against my chin.
Her eyes open, wide but unseeing.
“Fee? Fee?” I grip her shoulders.
She ignores me, glancing about. “Where is it. Quick, I need to find it.”
“Fee, wake up.” I shake her.
“Where is it?” For a moment, I think she’s looking right at me, but then a film falls over her vision again. “I need to—”
She cries out and slumps against me.
“Fuck.”
Bobby has rushed over and is standing a few feet away, ready to assist if need be.
“I think we’re okay.” I nod at him. “I think it’s ov—”
Fee tears out of my grip and runs into the kitchen. I’m already in motion, but she has a knife at her throat before I can get to her, and when she locks gazes with me, it isn’t her looking back. It’s something else. Something cold and alien.
The tendons in her arm flex in preparation to draw the blade across her throat. I hear Bobby’s cry of alarm and sense the presence of my pack as they rush to the lounge, alerted by their alpha’s distress, but I know I won’t make it to her in time.
I know I’m about to lose her because a wound like the one she’s about to inflict won’t heal in time, not for a Loup, and not even for a Dominus. But still, I try, leaping toward her, hands outstretched to stop her.
The blade drags across her flesh, leaving a bloody trail in its wake, and then a body blocks my path, and I skid to a halt.
Golden hair and the scent of a foreign ozone.
Conah.
There’s a clink as the knife falls to the ground, and then Fee’s scream of impotent rage fills the room.
Conah turns to face me, holding her to his chest in a vise-like grip, his expression stunned shock that clearly says, what the actual fuck.
She thrashes and gnashes her teeth, wild and feral. “No. No. My time. Mine!”
“Fee!” My voice is a whiplash. A command from an alpha to his mate.
She stills, and then her eyes flutter closed, and she slumps forward in Conah’s arms.
We stand, face to face, chests heaving, surrounded by my pack, and then Conah finally breaks the silence.
“Grayson, what the fuck is going on?”
Chapter Thirty-One
Fee
Waking up was like swimming through treacle. Confusion clouded my mind, leaving it sluggish. There were voices, people. I knew these people.
“How long?” Conah asked.
“Ever since you three left for the Underealm,” Grayson replied. “Uri saved her.”
“When she jumped?”
“Yes.”
“And this heart stopping is the only solution?”
“The only one we have, and we’re short on time,” Grayson replied.
A female voice joined in. One I recognized as Petra. “She used a knife, which means the curse is gaining more control. Up until now, it simply managed to get her to a ledge and try and make her walk off. Making her use a blade to slit her throat shows much more control.”
“It was as if she was someone else,” Grayson said. “I looked into her eyes, and she wasn’t there.”
I forced my eyelids open, dragging myself out of the arms of sleep. “It happened again, didn’t it?”
I focused on the faces around my room. Grayson sat on the bed by my hip, Petra stood by the dresser, and…Yes, that was Conah by the window. He’d come.
“What did I do?”
“You tried to slit your throat,” Conah said. “I got here in time to stop you.”
“I wouldn’t have made it to you in time.” Grayson’s tone was low, his voice hoarse as if he’d been crying, but Grayson wouldn’t cry…would he? “You would have bled out.”
There was torment in his eyes that I desperately wanted to soothe. “I’m fine, though. I’m okay.” I took his hand. His fingers were cold to the touch. Chilled. “Grayson?” He made a strangled