CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

"Get back to the house and call off the search," I told Cyrus and the flashlight guiding our way across the yard towards the manor.

He hadn't spoken a word. Hadn't even glanced in our direction. He was practically a ghost drifting ahead at a discreet ten feet. But he quickened his pace.

I needed to be alone with my wife. I needed time to process the rage and terror intermingling through my system. A vicious war for dominance.

I needed my wife.

I held Naya's cold, stiff fingers with much more force than was necessary, but I wasn't taking any fucking chances. My brain was still having a hard time convincing me that she wasn't a bloody, splattered mess across the concrete beneath her window. I had to keep glancing at her to make sure I wasn't imagining her.

But she was there, a small, shivering figure I was never letting out of my sights again. Wherever I went, she would stay with me. Even if I needed to shit, she had to sit and wait with me. At least outside the door.

The point was her actions were reckless. They put her in danger. Any number of awful things could have happened to her.

Wild animals could have eaten her.

She could have fallen into the lake ... again.

She could have found her way to the swamps.

The house could have claimed her.

I must have squeezed too hard because Naya whimpered my name, and I immediately loosened my fingers. I brought hers to my lips. Apologizing without words because if I opened my mouth, I would just keep screaming at her and I knew I couldn't blame her.

I was pissed but I wasn't stupid. I got why she ran. I understood. The weeks and days ... since the second Naya fell into my fucking lap, I knew she was running. I knew she was scared. I never imagined the severity, but Jarrett Brixton was a good reason. The man had connections and wealth even if he was a pathetic little weasel with zero common sense. She was right to be scared.

Then.

Back before she had me.

That sick, twisted mother fucker had no idea the level of crazy I was about to go on him and his entire empire.

He could have all the connections and money in the world, but I had a deep, visceral need for blood.

And my connections ... my connections didn't announce themselves. They didn't dwell in the light. My connections ate men like Jarrett Brixton for breakfast.

"Thoran?"

I thought I was pressing too hard again, but she was looking up at me. Her uncertainty gutted me. It was only that morning she was looking into my eyes with the world in hers.

I was going to tear out Brixton's fucking heart for stealing that from me.

"Yeah, baby?" I said as patiently as I could while my blood boiled in my veins.

She was gnawing on her lip. Her blue eyes red rimmed even in the dark. "I knew about Jarrett. That you knew him," she explained. "I've known since our first breakfast when Vance said I was a spy." She bit harder on her lips. "I think Jarrett was telling people you and he were friends. Very good friend—" I scoffed but let her continue. "—my dad, the morning I left, was telling someone the same thing. That you were best friends and I ... when I got here and found out who you are, I was scared they were right and you..."

"I would give you to him," I finished softly.

Her bottom lip quivered, shattering my heart. "I thought once you heard my name and realized who I was, and you saved your inheritance..."

My lungs hitched as her explanation unfolded, painting a picture that broke everything inside me. It emptied me of my anger as if she'd taken a power washer to the fire. I searched the heartbreak and betrayal reflected in her eyes and started to shake my head when a rustle in the distance had us both glancing around.

The air was still. Barely stirring yet the subtle whisper of something in the grass.

"Naya," my hand pulled her back and behind me as I edged her in the direction of the house. "When I tell you to run—"

"Thoran," she protested, and I tightened my hold on her.

"When I tell you to run..."

I saw it.

It burst out of the shadows. Lips curled back over jagged fangs. Gray fur billowing in the flickering moonlight.

I didn't stop to think. To plan. I reached for my gun only to find it missing from the back of my waistband. My hands were empty but twin balls of rage as I plunged forward, racing towards it. Naya screamed, but the creature lunged and I met it.

I slammed my entire body into it, sending us both sailing sideways. We rolled with the momentum of the collision, but I was up. Bounding to my feet as the wolf did the same. Its massive head swung from side to side before its cold, brown eyes fixed on me. Serrated fangs extended from a maw as long as my arm.

It bolted towards me. A silvery blur. I was vaguely aware of Naya. Of the boots pounding in the distance.

The creature reared up onto its hind legs and I just had the sense to throw up an arm to stop razor sharp teeth from sinking into my face.

They caught on my forearm, tearing fabric and flesh. The pain nearly crippled me as hot blood bubbled and gushed over my arm, down my fingers. It stained the creature's muzzle, filling its mouth with my taste.

It practically moaned. I felt the vibration of its pleasure ripple across my punctured skin.

It jerked, digging claws into dirt, and using its massive weight to try and rip my limbs off. The bones grinded and I knew it would break them if I didn't get it off.

I punched it in the snout.

I did it twice, making sure I got the sponge black at the tip.

Startled, it sprung back, huffing, and swinging its head. I took its distraction and punched him again. Then again. Ignoring the burn of my wounds as blood rushed down fingers I couldn't feel.

The wolf snarled, scrambling back, putting space between us. I knew it was trying to get its bearings and I lunged, stomping my feet and yelling.

It skittered even further back.

But it had tasted blood and wasn't leaving until he got more.

A gunshot cracked through the night. The wolf yelped and bolted back the way it had come.

The searing agony wasted no time settling home through my entire body the moment it knew the fight was over. My arm burned, sending spikes of raw, throbbing heat coursing up my arm. My fingertips tingled.

Fuck!

Grinding my jaw to stifle the urge to snarl, I pulled my arm into my stomach and turned.

Cyrus had a vicious and struggling Naya pinned against his chest. Her bare feet kicked in the air violently as he fought to keep her from getting free.

"Let her go," I panted.

The moment she hit the ground, she was running to me, but thankfully stopped before throwing herself into my chest.

"Are you crazy?" she screamed and yanked out of her coat. "Why would you do that?" She was sobbing hysterically as she wrapped the heavy fabric around my arm. "Why would you...? You could have been killed."

I stared at her in pain and bewilderment. "You think I would let it get you?"

Her eyes bright with fury, fear, and something I couldn't name flashed up at me. "Yes! It was a wolf, Thoran." Her chin trembled and her eyes watered. "You attacked a wolf."

I would have laughed if she didn't look so fucking small and angry. "I know what it was, sweetheart, and technically, he attacked me first."

"This isn't funny!" she yelled. "You could have died!"

Maybe it was the sudden acknowledgement of just how close I'd come to losing her if I'd failed, but my free hand cupped the back of her head before I could stop myself. I pulled her in and crushed my lips to hers, tasting her tears and fears salty on her lips. She made a little sound at the back of her throat before her arms were around my shoulders. Her body settled against mine as she went up on her toes. My good arm pressed her harder, holding her tighter.

She pulled back. "You need a doctor."

I shook my head. "I need you."

She sniffed, brows furrowed. "Doctor!"

I allowed her to take my good hand and pull me to where Cyrus stood watching the exchange with a mask of calm, but I didn't miss the absolute fury in his eyes before he turned and led the way back.

Vance was in the foyer when he arrived. He looked from Naya to me and the bloody trail I was leaving in my wake and his eyes bulged.

"Jesus, Thoran, what happened?"

"Wolf attack," I said, struggling to maintain my air of bravado when my limb blazed as if on fire; I had soaked through Naya's coat and my entire side was sticky.

Vance shot a glance from me to Cyrus. "How did a wolf get onto the property? All the gates were closed, weren't they?"

I just shook my head, needing to sit down. I was beginning to feel lightheaded and even with Naya's attempts to help me stay upright, I knew that if I passed out, I was taking her with me.

"Call Roberts."

Vance hesitated just long enough to make me glance at him.

"You fired him," he reminded me. "I can—"

I shook my head. "He's momentarily unfired."

I ambled my way upstairs with Naya tucked under one arm and Cyrus sprinting up ahead. He shoved open my bedroom door and stood back to allow me through.

"Do you need anything?" Naya helped me down on the bench at the foot of the bed. "Towels?"

"Vodka," I said to Cyrus still hovering by the door. "The whole bottle."

"I can go—"

I tightened my hold on her when she started to leave my side. "You are never leaving my sights again."

She sat gingerly next to me without argument, fingers twisting in her lap as she stared into my face.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, half choked. "I'm so sorry. I left the gate open. It was my fault." Her shoulders rocked with a hiccup. "You almost died because of me."

I captured her jaw and brought her closer. "Oh, we'll be having a long, thorough discussion regarding everything that happened tonight once I get my arm back, Naya my love." I skimmed a thumb over her puffy lip. "And you are going to make it up to me in the most ... creative ways."

Despite the tears, she blushed, but nodded eagerly. Her chilled hands closed around mine.

"I will. I promise."

I almost laughed, but Cyrus took that moment to return with the vodka and I practically wrenched it from his hands to swig back half. The burn was a blessing. It seared my gut and numbed my pain.

Barely.

Enough.

I had a passable buzz when Dr. Roberts shuffled in, freakishly brisk for an eighty-year-old man. He jostled his glasses and blinked at my arm, still swaddled in Naya's coat.

"Gunshot?" he guessed.

I shook my head. "Wolf."

He hummed softly before setting straight to work ordering towels and hot water. Naya kept very close to my side, holding my good hand, and turning several different shades of green as the doc washed, sterilized, and stitched the wounds.

I had too much vodka in me to feel much, but Doc was kind enough to give me a shot of something that was making everything really, really soft.

"I'm sorry," Naya breathed into the curve of my shoulder.

She smelled so nice. Damp. But under the rain, her curls smelled like ... me. I liked my scent on her. In her. I fucking loved being in her. In her tight pussy. Her mouth. Her ass. Soon. When I could feel my face again, I was going to fuck her ass.

"Thoran!" Her head jerked up, eyes wide with horror as she shot glances between me and the other ... six? No. Only one Vance, Cyrus and doc, in the room.

I realized lazily that I'd said it out loud. But I didn't give a shit. I was the boss, and she was my wife, and we were in our bedroom where we fucked a lot.

A lot.

"I want a baby," I told her, my voice groggy even to my own ears. "Yours. I want your baby. Little blonde demons who give me constant heart attacks."

Her cheeks were beautiful, scarlet patches but she grinned at me. "We'll talk about it when you're actually able to keep your eyes open."

"My eyes are open," I muttered. "I see you. You're so pretty. So shiny."

Everyone started shouting when I reached to touch her hair.

I'd used the wrong hand, nearly ripping the stitches Doc was pressing into my skin.

"Cyrus!"

Naya flinched. Doc jumped. I hadn't realized I'd bellowed the name, but I must have.

Standing five feet away, Cyrus shifted forward a step. "I will not have your baby, sir."

Naya snorted and quickly covered her lips. Doc and Vance both appeared amused, but I wasn't.

"Why the fuck would I want your ugly babies?" I snapped back.

"Thoran! That's not nice," Naya gasped. "Cyrus would make adorable babies."

I stared at her. At her beautiful eyes and beautiful lips, and her beautiful eyes. God, I fucking loved her eyes.

"You want his babies?" I whispered, feeling a rush of rage and sadness brew together in my belly.

"No!" Naya said immediately.

"He's my breast ... breast," I paused to remember the word. "Best friend but I'll kill him."

She shook her head. "I don't want his babies."

I captured her chin with the hand I could move. "Do you want mine?"

Her complexion darkened, but she nodded. "Yes, I want yours."

"Now?"

Her cheeks stretched under my fingers in a smile. "Later."

Pleased, I let her go and turned to the asshole trying to steal my babies. Stupid smug asshole. I'd hit him if the doc would hurry up.

"Get Vance, asshole."

Cyrus rolled his tongue over his teeth and stepped back to reveal Vance.

"I want Cyrus fired, then get Cyrus to find the wolf and get him off the property."

Doc finished the last stitch. Naya with the help of Cyrus helped me undress and cleaned. I told them I could find my own shoes, but they tucked me into bed.

I grabbed Naya's wrist. "Stay."

She sat next to my hip, careful not to nudge my wrapped arm. "I will. I won't go anywhere."

I wanted to tell her to promise but she was already blurring. Fading as my eyelids slipped shut.