Page 44 of Hunted

“For now.”

“When can I see him?”

“Not until he’s out of testing.” He checked his watch. “I have more patients to see, but I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

“Thanks, Simon.”

The first thing I felt was a terrified pressure at the back of my mind. It felt like fierce hugs. Like nights where Ellie curled into the space beneath my chin like a puzzle piece. Like strawberry shampoo and bowls of corn chowder shared on a cold fall day.

Ellie Crowe flew into the room like a five-foot-three tornado. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head in a messy knot that she’d stabbed with chopsticks, loose mahogany brown curls flying around her head in that familiar way that made me want to capture them and wind them around my fingers. She had on my favorite chunky dark blue cardigan, the worn one covered in rabbit fur she always saved for when we cuddled up in front of the TV to watch old Battlestar Galactica episodes on streaming, and an airy silk top printed with laughing cats. Her upper lip trembled, and her face was streaked with dried tears.

Wordlessly, I held out my hand.

Ignoring the phalanx of beeping machines, she leaned over me. Her perfect face scowled, the seven freckles I so loved standing out against her pale skin. “I’m so mad at you right now.”

“Can that come with a rain check? I think we only get five minutes.”

Huffing out a sigh, she folded her arms. I lowered the rail on the hospital bed, and she climbed in beside me, removing the chopsticks from her hair so it tumbled in a wild curly mane over my pillow. I inhaled her scent, turning my face into her dark curls.

“You scared me.” Her voice was a faint whisper against my throat.

I kissed the top of her head. “I’m okay.”

“I was in the lab working late and I felt something.” She touched her throat where my bite mark had formed a thin scar just beneath the collar of her blouse. “I can’t explain it. I just knew something was wrong. Rowan had just gotten the text about August, and I told her to take us to the hospital. But I knew. I couldn’t text you because I knew you were working, but in my heart, I knew something had happened. Once we got there, Topher called and said you were being brought in. And I felt my heart stop.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” I whispered into her hair, my wolf keening as I inhaled the intoxicating scent of her skin. “You’re mine. You always have been.” And as the words left my lips, I felt a weight lift from my chest. I still hated myself for what I’d done to her. But I was done pretending I could live without her.

Ellie’s heartrate picked up. At least my wolf hearing was coming back. “Can we be mated if I choose to stay human? What about pack law?”

“Screw pack law. You are my mate. My forever. The pack will just have to deal with it.”

And with Ellie’s small, cool fingers clutched in mine, exhaustion claimed me yet again. My Ellie. My mate.

When I woke up, the overhead lights were still dimmed due to my head trauma. Ellie was gone, although I could still smell her strawberry shampoo on my pillow. In her place was a single dark wood chopstick. I lifted it to my nose, inhaling the scent of her hair, noting that the room smelled oddly like barbecue—

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” my brother Dallas sang as he muscled open my door around two giant brown paper to-go bags from The Rusty Spoke, like my head wasn’t already about to explode from the migraine of the century. “Pretty sure your wolf could use a protein fix right about now.”

I groaned. Ethan, who had followed Dallas into the room with a tray of drinks, shot our older brother a look. “Dude, could you be any louder? I swear, we can’t take you anywhere. You’re worse than Major on a doughnut high.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to balance out your dark aura.” Dallas scraped his hair back. He looked just like a younger version of our father, Ben, with ice blue eyes and dirty blond hair, except he wore his hair longer in what Lacey called his rebel Viking look.

“If you two are going to fight, can I have my barbecue first?” I sat up, stomach growling. One time, back before Ethan and Dallas had ironed out their differences, which were mostly down to playful ribbing at this point, they’d taken out an entire table of barbecue at a family lunch. And I was starving.

Dallas smirked. “I got you, man. I brought all the good stuff to give your wolf the protein it needs to heal.” He began unpacking Styrofoam containers while he talked. “Brisket sandwiches. Ranch-style beans slow cooked in brown sugar. Thought the sausage might be too spicy so I brought some chicken I slow smoked myself last night. It’s nice and tender. Then I knew you and August both could eat a gallon of our potato salad, so I brought plenty.”

“How’s August?” I mumbled through a mouthful of brisket sandwich. Dallas was right. It was delicious. No surprise there. Everything my brother made was amazing.

Ethan handed me a big paper cup of Texas style sweet tea with so much sugar in it, the first sip made my eyes water.

“He’s in testing.”

“Shouldn’t you be with him?”

Ethan raised a pierced eyebrow, stripped a piece of meat off a smoked chicken drumstick then tossed the bone into the trash. “What, like they’re going to let me perform a lumbar puncture?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do, and they don’t let you in the procedure room. I’ve been sitting with him the last few hours while you’ve been out.” He scowled. “And you’re my brother, too, dickhead.”