“Bryn?”
“I’m fine.”
Chase nodded, breathed in my scent.
“He’s broken,” I said. “The look on his face, it was just …”
“I know,” Chase said. “Trust me, Bryn. I—of all people—know.”
“But,” I prompted, sensing he had more to say.
“I know what he’s been through and I’m sorry for it, but I don’t trust him.”
I didn’t trust Lucas, either—not by a long shot. He was too unpredictable; he held things back from us too often, too much. But even though I didn’t trust Lucas, I knew what it was like to be broken, to have to fight through it and find a way to put yourself and your life back together.
And so did Chase.
That was why I needed to do something—because once upon a time, another alpha had done something for me.
“You wanted me to go and talk to Lucas, to form my own impressions, and I did,” Chase said, pulling my mind back to the present. “Lucas is desperate. Desperate people do desperate things, Bryn.”
I heard him. I believed him—but I couldn’t wash my hands of this, no matter how much Chase wanted me to. I couldn’t let Lucas down just to take care of myself.
Chase pressed his lips to my temple, and I felt their touch through my whole body.
Your job is watching out for the pack, he’d told me. Let my job be watching out for you.
His lips traveled from my temple down to my mouth, his arms pulling me closer—and for a few moments, when it was just the two of us and I could feel him everywhere, it didn’t matter that I was alpha, didn’t matter that he wanted things for me that I would never be able to have.
I didn’t think about Lucas or the coven or the million and one ways this situation could end badly for everyone involved.
All I thought about was us. Chase and Bryn. Bryn and Chase.
Yes.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHASE SPENT THE NIGHT, AND I WOKE UP THE NEXT morning with my head on his chest and his body curved around mine, like he could ward off the outside world by wrapping my frame in his. I listened to his heart beating in his chest, and burrowed in closer, surrounding myself with the warmth of his body, the scent of his skin.
This was right. This was safe. This had kept the nightmares away.
And then I heard the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. My first thought was that Lucas was back. My second was that the coven, unable to send Archer into my dreams, had come to try out their intimidation factor in person. My third thought was the most logical—and the most terrifying.
Ali.
I flipped over onto my side and looked at the digital clock on my nightstand. 10:23.
“Chase.” I kept the volume of my voice low but made up for it by shoving him in the ribs.
“Bryn,” he said, his eyes still closed, a loopy smile on his face.
“Get up.”
He must have sensed the urgency in my tone, because the next second, the smile was gone and there was something feral and hard in its place. He moved quickly, pushing me back toward the headboard, crouching in front of me.
I rolled my eyes.
Not that kind of danger, Chase, I told him silently. You’re a boy. In my bed. And Ali doesn’t believe in sleeping past ten thirty. Ever. It’s a miracle she didn’t drag me out of bed to get ready for school.
In the madness of the day before, I hadn’t gotten around to dropping the “no more high school” bombshell. Luckily, Ali seemed to know that there was no margin for error in our current predicament—and no way that any of us should give the psychics an opportunity to divide and conquer.
Still, impending disaster or no impending disaster, the twins had undoubtedly been up for hours, and Ali was probably on the verge of venturing into my bedroom. She was already uncomfortable with the intensity of my relationship with Chase. Somehow, I doubted her finding him in my bed would help matters, even if we did have the mother of all excuses.
You have to leave, I told Chase. Now.
He twisted to face me, his posture relaxing, the light, playful smile returning to his face. I was used to the give-and-take between the boy and the wolf inside, but I was still struck by the combined effect of his bed-head and our current situation. For the first time since he’d come back from patrol, Chase seemed like he belonged here, body and mind—not just with me, but at the Wayfarer. Like this was home.
I should go, Bryn.
His voice was a whisper in my mind, and I wondered if I’d projected my thoughts to him—if home, like Thanksgiving, was something he’d thought of only in the abstract. Without saying another word to me, silently or out loud, Chase slid off the bed and began walking toward the window, and every instinct in my body said to follow.