Den of Sorrows (The Grey Wolves #9)(39)

He sat down on his haunches—okay that's a weird way to think of it if he really was a man—and stared straight at her. He was a beautiful animal. His fur was soft and was shiny; his eyes were like liquid silver, bright, if not a tad wild looking.
"How old are you?" he asked as he continued to study her just as closely as she was studying him.
"Eighteen. How old are you?" Was she really doing this? Was she really going to sit here and have a conversation with a wolf?
"Would you prefer I take my human form?"
The question took her off guard. Would she? She didn't know. She'd never been around a human man before—at least not as a grown woman. She'd been with the vampires so long she didn't even know how to feel about men.
"About me?"
"What?"
"You don't know how to feel about me, not just any man."
"Do you have to do that? Read my thoughts? It's kind of unnerving."
"I've been waiting for you for so long. I want to give you the space you need, but you are all that is keeping me sane. Either I touch your skin or I touch you mentally through our bond."
Bethany didn't know what to say to that. She was talking to a wolf who could speak to her through her thoughts, and he'd just told her that she was the key to his sanity. Her? As if she was sane herself. She stood suddenly and the wolf stood as well. She felt as though the walls were closing in on her. The room was getting smaller and the air was being sucked out and she was going to suffocate.
"Bethany, listen to me."
His voice filled her mind but all she could think about was trying to get air into her lungs. She leaned over, placing her hands on her knees as she tried to keep her balance. The world was beginning to break apart into little squares and she could feel herself falling forward. Then the world went black. 
Drake phased faster than he ever had before. He flung his arm out through the space in the bars and caught Bethany's head before it could hit the ground. He lowered her gently down and brushed the hair from her face. She was exquisite. Her hair was as black as pitch and her skin as fair and creamy as milk. It was striking in its contrast. Her eyes were a startling color of aquamarine. She had long eyelashes and full pink lips. Her nose was small and cute and her cheeks were high, hinting at an aristocratic appearance. She looked like a fairy queen. She was small—at least a foot shorter than his 6'2" frame. His hands easily encircled her wrists and he felt as though the slightest amount of pressure could snap her bones. She seemed so fragile and yet she'd survived living with vampires. She’d been fed on for years. She wasn't fragile, she was strong—resilient—and she was his.
Drake ran a finger across her cheekbone and down her jaw. He couldn't stop touching her. Just this small touch pushed the maddening darkness back enough that he could think a little more clearly.
Several minutes passed before she started to come to. Her eyes fluttered several times before finally opening. They met his and Drake felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.
It took her a moment to realize that she was looking at a man and not a wolf. He saw the moment she realized this as she pushed herself up and scampered back away from him. Drake was mindful of the fact that he was completely unclothed and kept himself in a position that would not give her an eyeful.
When he spoke, he did so softly, not wanting to startle her any further. "Would you throw me a pair of those pants?" He pointed to the far left of the room where a shelf stood in the corner containing stacks of folded sweat pants.
Bethany's eyes didn’t leave him as she slid sideways until her hands hit the shelf. She grabbed a pair and stepped to the part of the cell furthest from him and pushed them through the bars. Drake waited until she was back in her spot, pressed tightly to the wall, before moving.
"I'm going to stand now, so unless you want a quick anatomy lesson, you might want to turn your head or close your eyes."
He waited for her to comply but she just sat there staring at him. "Bethany," he said her name softly. "Are you okay?"
Still she didn't speak. Drake didn't know what to do, but he knew he couldn't just sit there naked. So he stood and turned to grab the sweatpants. He pulled them on quickly, his back turned to her. When he turned back around, he nearly smiled because her once fair skinned face was now as red as a ripe cherry.
"I warned you," he told her with a small amount of laughter in his voice. He sat down less than a foot from the bars, directly across from where she sat. Drake met her gaze and then waited. It didn't bother him to just sit and stare at her. She was here, his true mate, finally. He could wait for as long as she needed, just so long as she would stay close to him.
Drake could feel the confusion, disbelief, and uncertainty running through her mind. He was trying very hard not to just read her thoughts. He didn't want to violate her privacy but he needed to keep the bond open. If he was going to keep the darkness from completely taking over again, he needed her light.
"There is no light in me," she said suddenly. Her voice was soft and her lips had barely moved.
"What?"
"You think you need my light. I don’t know what that means but I do know that there is no light in me. I've lived in the dark for too long."
Her words twisted his heart. Her childhood had been ripped from her, her innocence taken away in an instant. He hadn't been there to protect her.
"It wasn't your job to protect me," she said. A frown creased her brow.Drake shook his head. "You're wrong. You've always been mine to protect and you always will be."
"You can't be more than five or six years older than me. So what could you have done at the age of thirteen? How could you have stopped a vampire?" she challenged. He saw the flash of strength and defiance that had probably kept her alive all these years.
"I am much, much older than I look," Drake admitted.
He guessed that she must be deciding to ignore his comment because she moved right on to something else without addressing it. "You have an accent," she pointed out. "Where are you from?"
"I'm originally from Romania. My family joined the Serbia pack not long after I was born. So I've lived in Serbia most of my life."
"Do you remember where you are from?" Drake asked, trying to tread carefully, yet hoping against hope that she would keep talking.
"I'm from Phoenix, Arizona. I don’t know where I've been for the past eleven years. I haven't been above ground since they took me."
Drake’s jaw clenched. "I found you in Phoenix, so you’ve probably been there the whole time."
"I don't know if my family is still there," she admitted. "Sincaro would never tell me if he did anything to them. He would just tell me that I didn't need to worry about them."
"I'm sorry, Bethany." Drake didn't know what else to say.
"It's not your fault."
Tears pooled in her eyes as she stared at him. Her gaze was unwavering and he admired her that she held her chin high after all she'd been through.
"My life will never be normal, will it?" Bethany asked him.
"I'm the wrong person to ask, love. I don’t know what normal is. I'm a werewolf, remember?"
A small smile touched her lips. "A werewolf. I don't even know what to say to that. I mean, I know it's true, obviously. But that doesn't make it any less strange." She seemed to be gathering her nerve before she spoke again. "Why did that woman lock you in there?"
"My wolf is a little unpredictable right now. It's for my own safety as well as others." Her eyes widened and he hurried to add. "But not you. You never have to fear me. My wolf could never hurt you. You're my mate."
Bethany's breath caught and her hand slowly lifted until it was lying over the place on her neck where he'd bitten her. His wolf growled and Drake had to snap his mouth shut. His skin felt hot as she looked at him. Her eyes were wary, but not fearful. There was no accusation there either, which surprised him.
"I'm sorry about the—" He pointed to the bite. "I wasn't in control and my wolf acted on instinct. I wasn't trying to hurt or scare you." 
"Mates," Bethany tried out the word. Her eyes seemed to roam over him, almost as if she was realizing for the first time, other than when he'd put on the pants, that he was man—a man not wearing a shirt to be precise. Her gaze was practically a caress as she took in all of the exposed skin. Drake saw something flash in her eyes, something possessive, and he knew it was her own wolf, dormant though she may be. And by the look in Bethany's eyes, her wolf wanted its mate.
"What are those markings on your neck?" she asked him as she shifted to see if there were anymore.
"All of our kind have markings. They are a message to other wolves. The location of the markings let others know the level of our dominance and where we fall in the pack hierarchy. The more elaborate the markings, the more dominant the wolf. When we find our mate, our markings change. They usually move up our bodies to be visible on the neck. The ones on my neck are new."
"How come you only have them on your neck?"
Bethany saw a flash of pain in Drake’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She was trying very hard not to think too much about the fact that she was talking to a werewolf—a very, very attractive, male werewolf.
When her eyes had fluttered open, she'd been taken aback by his rugged handsomeness. He was tall, definitely over six feet in height. He had dark, wavy, unruly hair that was long enough that it would brush his collar if he had been wearing a shirt. His face was chiseled and he looked as though he'd gone a day or so without shaving. His nose held a slight bump in the center where it had probably been broken. But rather than distracting from his looks, it only added character to his face. His body was thick and muscular. Where most of the vampires she'd seen were sleek and trim, Drake was solid, but had not an ounce of fat on him. She pushed away the glimpse of his body that she'd seen when he'd stood up. Her mind was screaming at her to look away but her curiosity and shock wouldn't allow her to.