He took a deep breath, searching for her scent somewhere, anywhere.
“Have you come to kill me?” The man, Betsy’s father, or kidnapper depending on how he wanted to look at it, leaned against the wall sipping a cup of coffee. He had a gruff voice like he’d smoked too many cigarettes. Cyrus took another breath and then cursed the urge that had made him do so. Betsy’s father was riddled with disease.
“Looks like I needn’t bother. You’re a dead man walking.”
The other man laughed and then exploded into gut-wrenching coughs that doubled him over for a few seconds. Cyrus waited, not moving. He ached for the man’s death, but a fast destruction of the husband of the woman who had shot his mate might be too kind an end. Maybe it would be better to leave him like this, to cough himself to death alone in a stale home with no one to love him in the end.
“I told her not to go there and do that. I told her to leave the girl alone. It all seemed downright nonsensical to me. Can’t change the nature of a werewolf, any more than you can change the nature of a person. Killing her was only going to drag you monsters out to commit more destruction. Better to put you all down like the abominations you are.” He shook his head. “But Joe told us to raise her, to try to save her soul, and we did the best job we could considering the girl couldn’t keep her legs closed.”
Cyrus struck him across the face before he could think about it. No one insulted his mate, and even though Cyrus would never use the word slut to describe a woman’s sexuality, he knew that Betsy’s father had meant it as such.
Blood seeped out of the other man’s mouth, and he spit it on the floor. “Damn it. If you’re going to kill me, do it already.”
“I’m not going to. I’m going to let you suffer. Your wife is dead. She took her own life. Your compatriots are all dead too. Beaux had them all shot. I would have preferred to let them suffer in terror but I guess he’s kinder than me.” The house creaked as gust of wind hit it. “It’s going to be a long, cold winter. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll die from pneumonia. You humans are so weak, your bodies failing with every little ailment. And Betsy didn’t die. So your wife failed. You won’t have any satisfaction from her having succeeded in her mission.”
Cyrus turned on his heel and left the cabin. It didn’t surprise him to see Beaux leaning against a car, watching him when he walked out.
“Are you stalking me?”
“I’m feeling rather determined to keep you alive.” Beaux shrugged, but his usually benign scent surged for a second. The man was hiding something. Cyrus didn’t know if he had the energy to delve into exactly what that entailed.
“Anything from Lake?” He headed toward his car. If Beaux wanted to follow him around, he could chase him back to Betsy. Screw Lake’s concentration. His mate needed him, and if there was no one to kill, he wasn’t leaving her side until she opened her beautiful eyes.
And, when this was over, he was going to see to it that she never knew pain like this again. When he drove away, it burned his guts that he’d left the man inside the cabin alive. Even if he was only a temporary problem.
****
Cyrus slammed through the door in time to see his sister stumble from the room where he had left Betsy in her care.
“Lake?” His voice shook. His sister’s eyes were red, her hair wild, and her skin two shades paler than usual. “Is she gone?” Wouldn’t he know? Didn’t true mates always feel a death, or was it more bullshit about their werewolf lives that would prove to be nothing but nonsense?
The world suddenly lost all its color. Everything dulled.
Lake placed her hand on his arm. “Cyrus. She should be dead, but she’s not. Do you hear what I’m saying? She’s not.”
He took a deep breath, feeling the sunlight coming back into his soul and the colors of the universe returning. “She’s not dead?”
“Listen to me. I don’t know why she’s alive, but she is. I did everything I could, and I don’t know why it was enough. It shouldn’t have been. But it is, she’s healing. She’s going to be okay.”
He grabbed his sister and tugged her closer against him. “Lake, I don’t know what to say. You saved my mate. You did it. Anything you want, Lake. When we get home, work wherever you want. Do you hear what I’m saying? Anything.”
“Okay.” Lake laughed. “Why don’t we see if you feel that way after you’ve come down from shock?”
Cyrus ran into the room where Betsy lay. Her eyes were closed, but her color was good. She didn’t look gray, and although her clothes were still covered in blood, it didn’t bring on a sense of panic. Her body functioned normally. He could smell it, and he could see it with his eyes. It was okay for him to believe it.