the idea horrified her. She’d gotten used to his touches, the intensity of his gaze, the way he cared for her. To have learned what she was missing and then be without it now would be a thousand times worse than before.
“Grif not bad one.” She wished her New English was better, but nerves made it even harder for her to find the right words. “He trying to do everything to save other females like you.”
Britta’s scowl deepened. “Yes, but—”
She didn’t let the female finish. “He care more than anyone what happens to females. In my pack, females less than males, and ones like me, next to nothing. Not to Grif. He do whatever it takes to save those he believe in danger. I-I think he is hero.”
Lana drew back, her eyes angry like Grif’s sometimes got. “Even after what he’s done to you?”
“Yes, even then. I wish I had someone fight for me like Grif do for missing females.”
Saying the words aloud only reinforced how badly she wanted Grif to continue to be the one who fought and cared for her, but how could he when she couldn’t even fit in with the females of his world?
“You don’t mean it.” Cam patted her arm this time. “You’re confused. Or maybe you think you owe him something because he brought you along rather than killing you? That’s not true.”
“How do you think to get females back without him?” Nayla did not like the suggestion that she was confused. She might not be full Other, but she knew her mind. “I would not have told location if he just ask nicely.” She gave them the truth. Not just for Grif, but for herself. She did not want their kindness under false pretense.
Shocked silence greeted her declaration. None of the females looked pleased.
Her stomach twisted. She knew the tips of her ears were twitching, her skin shimmering golden pink with emotion. She did not want to stay any longer.
She was used to asking for permission, to be told when she could depart, but Grif’s words flickered through her mind now. You always have the right to say what you want.
“I return to Grif now.” She pushed past, not waiting for a reply.
She was not one of them. She never would be.
33
“Nayla? Everything okay?” Grif’s heart thumped overtime at the look on her face.
He was where he’d been when she left. At the fire. Trying not to look like he was hovering. Or that he didn’t know what the hells to do with himself once he’d put up his tent and made sure Sharluff was tied up tight.
Malin had wanted to argue. Bain to discuss the merits of Pack versus Other. Zale to eat.
Grif hadn’t been interested in any of it.
But now he wanted to kill someone, namely whoever had made Nayla look so sad.
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
He understood her reticence, but sometimes finding patience wasn’t easy. Especially when he wanted to fix whatever was bothering her as fast as possible.
Turning his back on the curious gazes of his teammates, he slung his arm around her and led her toward his tent. “Time to talk, wild thing.”
He held open the tent flap for her and tried not to wonder if pack dwellings were a hundred times nicer than his makeshift shelter as she ducked inside. They stared together at the meager pile of belongings in the corner: his pack, and little else.
The place he’d started building back at the settlement was a palace in comparison. He was handy—had to be growing up with the dad he’d had—so the bare bones were already looking good. He’d gotten sidetracked though by the mess with Ryker, imprisonment, and his hunt for Nayla.
Now, though, he was actually excited about crafting it into a real living space.
He wondered what Nayla liked in a home.
“I don’t belong here.”
Her words jerked him from his thoughts. He knew she wasn’t talking about the tent.
“Here.” He scooped up a skin of water from his pack and handed it to her. “You should drink.” He eyed his stash of bars. “It would be great if you ate something, too. You didn’t eat dinner.”
She did not take the bar. She did not drink the water.
He blew out a breath. “Did they say something mean to you?”
No answer.
He reminded himself that interrogators stayed in control. Leaders kept their cool and gathered intel. Those gunning to be second-in-command let logic rule.
She pressed her lips together and the lines at the bridge of her nose deepened.