Pack Ruin (The Splintered Bond #3)

4. Assumptions

4

Assumptions

FLOR

I woke with a gasp that turned into a sob.

Luke was dead. I’d felt him slip away, heard his wolf’s howl cut off and somehow, even without a completed mate bond, knew a part of my own soul had gone dead. I’d thought I would die, too. Then I’d sensed… Someone had stopped me from following him into the darkness.

Who? In my next breath, I had my answer.

“Flor?” Brand’s voice opened my eyes, though light from somewhere had me slamming them shut again.

“Too bright,” I rasped, the feeling of nails being driven into my skull easing when the light dimmed. I struggled to sit up, Brand’s warm hand somehow snuffing out the pain a bit more. Warmth and comfort radiated from the spot, and I braved the agony to turn my head toward him. He had a blue pottery mug in one hand, steam rising from it. It smelled of licorice and mint and something floral.

“An old family recipe for healing,” he said quietly. “My grandma made it for you.” He held the mug to my mouth, and I took a cautious sip.

“Your grandma?” I whispered.

“She’s been checking on you for the past two days. She was worried about you. We all were.”

“Two days?” He didn’t answer, just gave me another sip.

Brand had mentioned his family on the ride from Ontario. He had no siblings, but had always wanted some, although Glen and Finnick had filled that void once they were old enough to travel to each other’s packs. Still, he had four cousins, an aunt and uncle, one grandfather, and two grandmothers, all living at Mountain, though not all of them lived in or even near the Alpha’s Den.

I would meet more of Brand’s family today. My family. The thought warmed me almost as much as the tea. I rubbed my eyes, took another sip, and turned back toward Brand to ask about his grandma.

But he turned to one side, hiding his face. Like he was ashamed, or angry.

Confused, I automatically reached for the bond between us, and flinched. It felt burned, like a fire had cauterized our connection somehow, the emotions numbed.I swallowed hard, wondering what had gone wrong.

Then I remembered. The river, the pain, the way my own life was draining out as Luke pulled on it. Pulled away.

“Luke is dead,” I whispered. But something about that seemed wrong. “Isn’t he?”

Brand let out a breath before he answered, his head still turned away. “I’m not sure. It felt like he died, or at least a part of him. I… connected with him through your bond. Even though neither of you claimed each other. It didn’t seem to matter. But Dad called Southern yesterday. He’s alive.”

“Your dad spoke to him?”

“No. He spoke to the guy in charge there, an Enforcer from Finnick’s pack. They have him breathing on human machines, staying in a room in the Pack House with a doctor from Eastern checking in on him, but he’s not responding. At least, that’s what the Council told Dad when they called here yesterday.”

A chill ran through me. “The Council called?”

“Aidan McDonnell himself.” An image of Finnick’s douchecanoe of a father popped into mind. I’d disliked him at first sight, after he made it clear he thought I was trash. “They had someone watching our border, maybe even tracking us as we drove here, and they saw us at the river. Dad would have kept it secret, but he had to admit that Glen was on our land.”

“Why is it even their business? He’s not hurting anyone.”

“He’s an Alpha’s child who went rogue. Alpha McDonnell said he needs to be taught a lesson, made an example of, so none of the others like him ‘get ideas.’ They’re insisting on having him put to death. Margarette and Bradley have asked for an emergency meeting of the four pack Alphas. They’re on their way to New York now to meet with the asshole and beg for a stay of execution. But they’d have to rewrite pack law to get him out of it entirely, and that requires a majority vote, at least three of the four Alphas voting for the change. With Luke out of the picture, and Dad here...”

My heart ached for Glen’s parents. “Where is Glen now?”

Brand sighed heavily. “He’s in our cell.”

My blood went cold at his words. Instantly, I was back in the cell at Southern, silver bars all around me, the hard concrete of the floor icy and cold on my bruised legs. The barren room wasn’t the worst thing about that cell. The silver in the bars was what made even sitting inside a torture of its own. My spit had tasted of the metal for weeks after I got out.

Brand’s pack wouldn’t have a cell like that, though. His father wasn’t like Alpha Callaway. They knew Glen, liked him. They wouldn’t… I stopped myself. Assumptions like that were what had landed me in a hunt at Northern on my first day.

For all I knew, Brand’s dad cared more for pack law than doing what was right.

“Will he do it? Will your dad execute Glen?”

A deep voice I’d heard before came from the doorway. “I’ve never disobeyed a Council directive. Never broken pack law. But I cannot say what I will decide. Not after what’s happened to you, son.”

“Alpha Becker.” I sat up a bit straighter as the massive Alpha entered the room.

“Call me Samuel, or Dad,” he corrected, stopping at the foot of the bed, with a nod to Brand.

Who still hadn’t looked at me. What was going on?

“I was… overjoyed… to hear of your mating with my son,” Samuel said, his expression grave. “Although the circumstances were not ideal.”

“I would do it all over again, but without the stabbing,” I joked weakly.

No one laughed.Brand stood abruptly and walked to the fireplace, stoking the embers there.

Okay, something was really wrong.

I took a second to peer around in the dim light and get my bearings. The furniture here was all enormous, made to fit people much bigger than normal. I probably looked like a child on top of the rough-hewn log bed that was piled high with downy comforters and quilts. The chocolate-brown leather chairs against the opposite wall beside a tall, curtained window were just as outsized, as was the gray river rock fireplace, where a small fire now burned, thanks to Brand. I was dressed in a fancy nightgown, long and made of gorgeous white satin, with embroidered running wolves stitched in gold at the neckline and hem.

Samuel had on normal clothes, jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Brand wore dark gray sweatpants but no shirt, like he’d been training, or wanted to be ready to shift. They both waited in silence while I breathed, and took everything in.

The room was filled with scents: smoke, pine, and the tea I was drinking. But there was my own jasmine and cinnamon, along with a few others that I couldn’t make out. My wolf probably could, if I ever shifted.

I thought back to the river. “Did I shift, when… when I blacked out?” I couldn’t let myself think of why I’d blacked out, couldn’t think of Luke.Even if I tried to tell myself I didn’t care about him, no matter how many times I reminded myself that he’d failed me over and over when I was growing up at Southern, my heart still pounded when I thought of him.

My lips still hummed with the memory of our one kiss.

I wouldn’t say anything about him in front of Brand’s dad, not yet. Anyway, I wasn’t certain if Samuel knew about my weird-as-hell mating bonds, or what he might do when he found out. Better to keep my neck covered and my unusual mating shit to myself.

“No,” Brand said, without turning his head. “You began to, and then… you passed out. At first, we were worried you were dying. Your pulse was almost indiscernible.”

“What happened then?” I took another sip of tea as Samuel explained what had happened since the river crossing. He didn’t mention what had caused my “seizure,” and I didn’t volunteer anything.

“You and Brand both passed out on the bank, just inside our packlands. Glen spoke to the shifters I sent to meet you. He explained everything.” He directed a look of concern at his son, who had picked up a small wooden carving from the table, and was turning it over in his hands. “Well, all that could be explained.”

When Samuel looked out the window, still obviously unsettled, I scooted over on the bed toward Brand.He still wouldn’t look at me.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Samuel cleared his throat. “Dinner’s in an hour. Brand can show you the way.”

“Look at me,” I said quietly to my mate as Samuel slipped out the door more silently than anything that big should be able to move. “Brand, what’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?”

“I… Something changed, Flor. Something happened to me when you were slipping away.”

Oh shit. Had my wolf scratched him while I was blacked out, and scarred him? Ruined his face? I was the only creature in the world who could cause lasting damage to this male, without using silver. If I had, I would never forgive myself.

“Bearman?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.I held my breath as he crossed to the window and opened the curtain the smallest bit, his hands trembling visibly. My head wasn’t hurting now, but the light made it hard to focus on his face when he turned.

Steeling myself, I reached into the bond again and sent a wave of what I hoped was reassurance to him. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I was ready for scars, or something like that. I assumed my wolf had scratched him while I was out.

But his face hadn’t changed. Or so I thought.

His eyes were closed at first, but when he opened them, I gasped aloud. It took me a second to remember how to speak, and only one word came out. “ How? ”

He wasn’t disfigured. He was… transformed.

Before I knew what I was doing, I’d crawled out of bed on weak legs and crossed to him, my hands on his arms, then his shoulders. He was so tall, there was no way to look directly into his face unless he kneeled. He’d closed his eyes again, and his brow was furrowed in what looked like— felt like—fear.

I had a horrible thought. “Can you see?”

“Yes. That hasn’t changed.”

Thank goodness. I pulled him down gently until he was kneeling in front of me, then used my fingers to trace gentle circles on his face. “Why won’t you look at me?”

His eyelids fluttered open again, and for a long moment, I stared, keeping my own expression soft and accepting. His eyes had been chocolate brown before, gorgeous deep pools a richer shade than his hair, and I’d loved them. Now, they were pure white.

No, not quite pure.I moved his face up to the light. “They’re the same color as the moon.”

The irises were whiter than the sclera, almost glowing like the moon when it was full. There was a narrow darker line between the sclera and iris, and the pupil was still present, though it had faded to a pale silver-gray. He swallowed hard, trembling even more now that I could really see them.

“Brand, they’re beautiful.” It was true. They were magical, almost hypnotic.

For a moment, he slumped and buried his face in my stomach, his broad shoulders heaving as he breathed deeply.

“How, Bearman?” I asked again. He stood and lifted me into his arms, not answering. Instead, he carried me back to the bed, curling up behind me, his chest to my back.

“I don’t know. My grandmother says she read about a shifter who had eyes like this in one of our histories. She’s been in the library since we arrived, trying to find the reference.” He nuzzled my shoulder, nipping at the ends of my hair.

I pulled away and turned to face him again, taking in the changes in his expression. His eyes were odd, almost eerie, now. But looking into them… settled something deep inside me.I’d only ever felt this way when I stared at the moon, on nights when I’d found a safe hiding place, knowing I’d make it until dawn without being found by the Hunt.

“Do you hate them?” Brand asked roughly.

“I love them,” I replied instantly. “They’re part of you, and I told you before—I love you, Brand. Maybe more now.” I felt disbelief in the bond, and swallowed hard. I wasn’t good at talking about my feelings, but for my Bearman, I’d find the words to make him understand. “I know you said love wasn’t words. But you’re the only one I’ve ever said those words to, other than my mother and Del. I loved my mother, even though she wasn’t sane. She was broken before I was even born. I loved Del, and he was missing a leg. Why would you think I would love you less, just because your eyes have changed?”

I scooted up and kissed both eyelids, gently, then pulled back. “I waited my whole life for someone who would prove to me that not all males who wanted me were the same. That not all of you would hurt me, given the chance. I’m grateful every day that you claimed me, even though I was unranked. Maybe those eyes are the moon’s way of saying ‘you’re welcome.’”

“Ah, my love.” He brought me up to his face, kissing me tenderly. “You teach me every day how to be strong. Thank you for the reminder.”

Suddenly, his eyes were the least important thing about him. I felt his length hard against my leg, and reached down, lifting the nightgown out of the way.

“Flor, what are you—” he began as I rolled over until I was sitting on top of him. He only had on sweatpants, easy enough to push down.He helped me, his bright, magical gaze on my face filled with wonder as I ran my fingers through the hairs on his chest, soaking in his warmth.

The white gown mirrored the shade of his eyes as it pooled between us, concealing the places where my bare thighs surrounded his hips. One of his hands moved up from my knee to my thigh, and then over one hip, finding my core. Those strong, thick fingers moved from my opening to the place that already ached for his touch. He circled there for a moment, until my breathing grew choppy and my vision hazy.

I pushed myself down on top of him, closing my eyes as I slipped over him in small movements, taking him inside me.

Accepting him.

The stretch of him was every bit as intense as it had been before, but this time, it echoed the gentle, persistent ache in my heart. “You are mine, Brand Becker. Mine to love, and comfort, and hold, no matter what. I will never let you go.” The ache grew lighter, even as the spirals of pleasure grew more intense.

“My love,” Brand managed to say, before his voice broke.

“Yes. Yours.” I leaned forward so that the top of his length pressed against the center of my pleasure. I wasn’t close—or at least I didn’t think so—but it didn’t matter. What mattered was this moment. Our connection.

I moved slowly, staring down at his eyes, which grew brighter as he approached his peak. To my surprise, my own climax rolled over me at the same moment that he cried out, in a slow, luxurious wave of pleasure. Like a blessing.

“If I need to remind you how I feel about you every day,” I whispered when we were done, and I was lying on his broad chest, “then I will make that sacrifice. I will suffer through as many orgasms as it takes.”

His chest bobbed up and down in silent laughter, and I let myself smile. Even if the rest of my life was a shit heap, this part—where I could make my mate laugh and forget his worries for a moment—was golden.