Chapter 32
Henry
He woke with the snort as the door flew open, and the wolf was immediately awake, ready to protect Ophelia as she dozed, curled into his side. Henry half-sat and glared at the sliver of light that intruded on their den.
He was just getting his thoughts in order when Mercy’s head popped into the room. She caught one look at a naked leg hanging out of the bed and said, “Aw yeah,” gave him the finger-guns, and trampled back down the stairs while shouting to the entire house that “Henry was biz-ay.”
Henry covered his eyes and tried not to laugh. There was no such thing as privacy in a pack house, and even less in the close confines of Deirdre’s house. He didn’t mind in the slightest, but from the way Ophelia tensed next to him, he figured it wasn’t something she’d been prepared for. So he turned on his side to face her and drew the covers up over both of their heads, creating a dim cocoon around them. He just wanted to buy a few more precious seconds with her before the rest of the world intruded.
Ophelia flushed and walked her fingers across his chest. “So no one knocks around here, hmm?”
“Not generally,” he said. Henry rested his palm against her ribs so he could feel her heartbeat and better judge whether she was afraid or upset or wary. “I’ll get a better lock.”
She snorted and sighed, wiggling closer, and slid her arm over his side so there wasn’t an elbow between them. “Or a separate house.”
“Whatever you want.” He kissed the tip of her nose and tried not to think too-lusty thoughts, though with the way her legs tangled with his and she kept squirming around to get comfortable, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Ophelia glanced down between them, her cheeks going red again, and Henry braced for her to roll away or make excuses. But she bit her lip and looked at him shyly, like she wanted permission, and hesitantly moved her leg to hitch over his hip. Henry held his breath and helped drag her thigh up, pressing the wet heat of her core against him, and groaned in anticipation as they started to fit together in a slow, heavenly slide.
She sighed and pressed her face against his chest as Henry’s arm went around her back, holding her as close to him as possible, and murmured, “I like this.”
God, he was lost. Completely and utterly at her mercy, for every moment of every day for the rest of his life. He kissed her throat and shoulder and gently pressed deep into her. “Me too.”
Her back arched as he thrust and her hands worked into his hair, encouraging him with each murmur and soft sound. It was intimate but still intense, there under the covers in their own dim world. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to share that space, that moment, with her forever.
But too soon, she moved faster against him and bit back a groan, her walls clenching around him, and Henry sank into her to find his own release. They lay there panting, sweaty from the friction of bodies moving together, but Henry couldn’t have moved even if the house was on fire.
Ophelia traced shapes on his back, her arm still draped over his ribs, and didn’t bother to open her eyes as she nuzzled closer. “Maybe we don’t have to get up today.”
“Sounds like a perfect plan to me.” He knew she’d need to eat and hydrate, but he could deal with that later. His mate needed to rest, and his bed—in his arms—was the best place to be.
They dozed and time moved slowly. Ophelia moved to her back and Henry lay half on top of her, wanting to keep her covered in case anyone else decided to barge in, and she wiggled a little more and nearly distracted him again. His phone buzzed a few times, and it was only when it started ringing that Henry forced himself up and out of bed.
Ophelia stirred but he patted her arm and yawned. “Stay here. I’ll get food.”
She grumbled but didn’t get up, yanking the covers back over her head. He couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head, and wondered at how fast life could change. After leaving his pack in Montana, it felt like it took forever to find something new and normal, something better. He’d worried it might be months before he knew how he felt about Ophelia, and how she felt about him. And yet... a day, maybe three. One night and he was completely done. The world would never be the same.
He got in the shower for a quick rinse after texting Evershaw that he was on his way down, then got dressed. He squeezed Ophelia’s foot and asked what she wanted for breakfast, but all he got in response was a soft snore. Henry made a mental note to not keep her up all night again, then grinned and closed the door behind him. He wasn’t strong enough to resist keeping her up to all hours, that was for damn sure. Guess they’d just have to be nocturnal or nap the hell out of every afternoon.
He barely made it into the kitchen before Evershaw found him, expression grim. “Have you heard from Silas?”
Henry went still. “Last night. He was finishing the patrol to the north and was going to head back after an hour, around one. Isn’t he back?”
“No,” the alpha said. “And no one’s seen him at the pack house. Did anything strange happen last night?”
He moved to the kitchen, half his attention still on feeding Ophelia while the rest of his thoughts raced to find a clue on where Silas might have gone. “No. No new tracks, no scents, no hint of anything wrong. Just a bunch of whispers and hints and rumors of shit. Nothing concrete.”
“Something is very wrong,” a calm voice said, and he turned to find Deirdre approaching, Cricket in her arms.
The house cat managed to scowl, chirping a disgruntled meow when no one immediately offered him treats, and hopped out of her arms to twine through their legs. Henry frowned as he found lunch meat and sandwich fixings on the counters instead of breakfast food, then checked the clock. Of course. No one ate breakfast at one in the afternoon.
Deirdre paced in the kitchen, her attention on something beside her mate as Evershaw tried to get in her way and embrace her. No doubt the alpha wanted to reassure himself that she was fine when one of his pack was missing and it was out of his control. “The last few weeks, nothing has been as we expected. There is increased activity in our territory. Maybe. There are new coyotes and wolves out skulking in the night. Maybe. Perhaps none of this is real.”
“What do you mean?” Henry asked. He got a sinking feeling he could imagine what she meant, but he didn’t want to be the one to volunteer that it was even in part Ophelia’s fault.
“It’s got to be the sorcerer,” Deirdre said. Her eyes sparked with silver, an eerie reminder that she was far more powerful than she chose to display on a daily basis, and the hair on Henry’s arms stood up. Even Evershaw gave her a bit more room, though he kept his hand on her shoulder. The witch’s frown deepened. “Perhaps he was just trying to draw us out, to see how we worked, before he chose to strike. But why Silas?”
“Why not Silas?” Evershaw’s voice held more of a growl than a human’s throat was meant to make. “If the bastard wants to hurt us, he’d strike at whoever made an easy target. I’m guessing he doesn’t fight fair, so he probably sneaked up on the kid. Or maybe he actually does have coyotes and wolves working for him—or enslaved by him—and used them to surround Silas. Doesn’t matter. We have to find him.”
“We will,” Henry said. He finished loading the plate and turned. “I’ll get the team together and we’ll start hunting.”
“Bring Ophelia to my workroom,” Deirdre said. She moved serenely through the kitchen even though lightning crackled through the air in a growing storm around her. “We have work to do. I meant to give her more time to practice, but we need her strength.”
Henry tensed, feeling protective of his mate, and barely swallowed a growl of warning. Evershaw would have killed him for even a hint of a threat to his mate, with the pack being unbalanced in Silas’s absence. Henry struggled for control, gripping the plates full of sandwiches until they nearly shattered in his hands. “I will…ask if she is up for it.”
Deirdre nodded and began to drift toward the front of the house, Evershaw practically stepping on her heels as he demanded to know who he needed to kill to make things better. Henry followed but stopped short as the other two stopped in their tracks. He took a sharp breath and elbowed around the alpha the moment he saw Ophelia standing on the stairs. She gripped the bannister, her face pale, and swayed as she tried to keep her balance.
She stared at all three of them, her eyes wide and shining with tears, and said, “I’m so sorry,” before crumpling and almost tumbling down the rest of the stairs.
He leapt forward, the plates shattering on the floor, to catch her.
