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 too much. “He doesn’t talk about it, but every now and then when he’s really, really drunk, he’ll let something slip.”
She made a thoughtful noise. “Sounds lonely.”
Henry loved her even more in that moment, that she would have worried about Silas’s background and whether that left him isolated. He concentrated on making sandwiches, though, slicing a few tomatoes and peeling lettuce leaves away from the stack. He didn’t know what she liked, but there was plenty of time to learn.
There would absolutely be plenty of time to learn exactly how she liked things.
He distracted her with stories that Silas had told and little pieces of information that the rest of the pack put together from the few tidbits the former mercenary let slip, though Henry’s thoughts strayed to the coming confrontation. He didn’t care what happened to him, or even really to Silas, as long as Ophelia was safe. He knew that Deirdre and Evershaw, and the rest of the pack if something happened to the alpha, would take care of her. She would be safe and protected.
Henry was still musing over something Silas had said about a misadventure in Zimbabwe when the kitchen door creaked open. Fran, wide-eyed and meek, crept in but lingered near the wall. “Has something happened?”
He nodded, pushing a plate with three enormous sandwiches into Ophelia’s hands. “Someone attacked the pack and took one of our enforcers hostage. We’re going to get him back in a couple of hours, but for now... it’s best to stay inside and out of the way.”
He didn’t have anything against her, but he couldn’t let a completely submissive wolf distract everyone else from what needed to be done. Fran radiated the need to be protected, which wasn’t entirely her fault. Doubtless that was how she’d been raised; it was safer, really, for females in his stepfather’s pack. Don’t pose a threat, don’t offer an opinion, just go along. He gritted his teeth and wished he’d been strong enough, so many years ago, to have made a difference in her life.
“I’d like to help,” Fran said quietly, her hands linked in front of her. Her eyes had shaded pale and a curious intensity filled her expression.
Before he could say anything, Ophelia nodded. “How can you help? What’s your strength?”
“I’m a tracker,” Fran said. She straightened her thin shoulders. “The best tracker in the pack. That’s why Nola thought...” Her eyes darted to Henry and she flushed, then returned her attention to Ophelia. “That’s why Nola thought that your mate and I would suit. With my apologies.”
“Not a problem,” Ophelia said. She absently reached out to pat Henry’s shoulder. “Everyone seems to want a piece of this big guy. So. We’ve got a tracker. I’m not sure that the sorcerer leaves a track, but I trust that you would be the one to find him. Henry, are there teams out looking for Silas now?”
He blinked, feeling like he’d completely lost control of the situation, and looked between the two women. “Uh... yes, of course there are. I’ll just, uh...”
“Let’s get Fran linked in with one of the teams,” Ophelia said, rather more firmly than he’d expected. Henry’s wolf thrilled; confident Ophelia was back and ready to tackle the world. He wanted to lift her onto the kitchen counter and rip off her clothes, regardless of whether that covered them both in vegetables and deli meat, and may have grumbled a little as his hands flexed in anticipation of grabbing her. Ophelia pointed a warning finger at him, though her gaze sparked with heat that only fed his lust. “Not now, sir. I have work to do with Deirdre.”
Henry watched as she took the plate and sailed through the door, headed to the workroom, and frowned in thought. When he didn’t move, Fran said softly, “I like her.”
“Yeah,” Henry said, smiling. “I do too.” He straightened his shoulders and hoped that Evershaw had mostly survived the standoff with Deirdre. “Let’s get you out to work.”
She nodded and followed him, as resolute as Henry’s mate.
