Page 5 of Return to the Pack

“Anything,” I say, eager to serve my Alpha. I hurry out to the kitchen where Warrick sits, smoking.

“Good news,” I say.

“It must be if you’re smiling. Haven’t seen much of that pretty smile of yours lately.”

“Now I got something to smile about,” I say, unable to keep the grin from my face.

The corners of Warrick’s lips curve upward. “Tell me the good news,” he says, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a chipped white bowl. He takes one last pull on the cigarette.

“Axel’s awake!” I grin like I just discovered Mama’s risen from the dead. It ain’t Mama, but it’s the same to have someone else I love come back from the brink.

“Is he now?” Warrick stubs out his smoke and gets to his feet. “We’ll have to check in with my medic-minded brother, but you probably shouldn’t give him too much food. He hasn’t eaten for days.”

“But he’s a wolf,” I say this triumphantly, like being a wolf conquers all.

“Right,” Warrick says, striding toward the fridge. “And wolves, like anyone, can yak up a quickly consumed meal after days of hunger.” He opens the door and peers inside. “We got some duck stew here. Maybe a bowl of that to start.”

“Where are Callan and Ethan?” I glance into the front room. “I want to tell them, too.”

“They’ll be back shortly. They just took the bikes out for a ride. They were getting in my hair. It was more of a demand than a request.” Warrick chuckles in his deep, throaty voice—it’s more of a gravelly growl.

The wind batters against the back of the house, rattling the screen door against its hinges.

“When do you think this blasted storm will end?”

Warrick glances toward the back door. “It’s bound to ease up soon, maybe today. Already dying down.”

The sound of roaring motorcycles fills the air.

“I’ll check with the boys and see how things are looking in Jacksonville.” Warrick hands me the duck stew. “Dish him up some stew. If he finishes it, tell him to wait a bit before wolfing down more.”

“Got it.” I nod and reach for a bowl in the cupboard. I use it to scoop some savory soup, licking the dribbles off the side of the bowl. I grab a spoon and head back to the bedroom.

Axel’s sitting at the edge of the bed. “How long have I been out?”

“A few days,” I say with a shrug. “How you feeling?”

“Good as can be expected, which isn’t great. But I’m alive.” He flashes me a wan smile.

I hand him the duck soup and the spoon.

He lays back on the bed, as if he’s too exhausted ot even sit. I slide onto the bed next to him, taking the bowl into my lap. I take a spoonful and lift it carefully to his lips. He hesitates, like he’s unsure if he can give me that kind of rule of him. But then he opens his lips, letting me feed him like a baby. My heart hammers in my chest with each bite. I feel powerful and needed and wonderfully loved as I feed him, as if it’s what I was always meant to do.

We don’t speak a word the whole time, but something weighty fills the air, a charge that makes my pulse scamper like a swamp rabbit.

Right as he finishes, Callan, Ethan, and Warrick tromp into the room, interrupting whatever was happening. I quickly busy myself with licking out the bowl.

“Axel,” Callan says, medical bag in tow. “Looks like you made it out of the woods.”

“I seem to have,” he says. “Thanks to y’all.” A warm smile curves his lips, and he directs his attention at each of us in turn.

“We didn’t have anything better to do,” Ethan says gruffly. “This damn storm has kept us all cooped up in here.”

“Happy to provide some distraction,” Axel says with a wry smile. Slowly, like an ancient man, he rises.

Callan retrieves his stethoscope from his medic bag. “Easy, man. You’ve been more or less in a coma for the last few days.”

“Yeah,” Axel says, sort of sit-falling onto the bed. “I’m a little dizzy.”