Chapter Nine
Chloe
There were no wolves around the house, only nocturnal animals and trees. I couldn’t hear Lachlan as he moved around the property near me, but I could feel him all the same.
When it became clear that everything was safe, I approached Lachlan. “I’m ready to go inside and take a bath. It’s been a long day.”
He nodded, falling in step beside me as I walked back toward the cabin. We moved in silence through the cool night air. Once we were inside, he moved toward the kitchen. To my surprise, he began digging in the fridge and pulled out the leftover spaghetti from my meal last night.
I didn’t say a word. Grabbing a clean pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, I went into the tiny bathroom and shut the door. The bathroom was just as rustic as the rest of the cabin, but there was a long, narrow claw foot tub set against one wall. The exterior was chipped and discolored, attesting to its age, but it was deep enough that I could submerge my entire body from shoulders to toes. I assumed that Darrell had gotten the tub for free from someone who was remodeling their bathroom and decided to install it here.
Regardless of where it had come from, I was glad to have it. I’d been tense and on edge all night, my muscles tight with unease from being surrounded by Darrell and his cronies and awareness from being so close to Lach. I needed a break from both.
I ran the tub full of scalding hot water, pouring in some lavender bath salts that I’d picked up from the store in town last week. As I inhaled the scent, my mind wandered back to the note that had been left in the driver’s seat of Lachlan’s truck. Despite his suspicions, I believed that the writer wanted to help us rather than warn us off. I only wished I could figure out who’d left it. It was clear that not all the members of the MacArthur pack were content with Darrell’s leadership.
Until the author of that note realized that they could trust me, all I could do was wait. Here, with Lachlan.
I exhaled, sinking deeper into the water and letting my head rest against the back of the tub. I’d left the MacIntire pack to escape the pain of yearning for him so badly yet knowing I couldn’t have him. Though I no longer believed the wound left by grief was mortal, Lachlan was still injured all the same. His soul had been broken and I had my doubts that it would ever heal.
However, tonight in the truck, I’d seen a flash of the Lach I’d known before. The alpha that would never tolerate a wolf speaking to him the way I had. I’d grown so accustomed to being the one in charge after Belinda died that I’d almost forgotten how strong he’d once been. For months I’d made him eat and forced him to get out of bed and get fresh air, watching in agony as his body wasted away.
Tonight was the first time in nearly two years I’d seen even a fragment of who he used to be. It was arresting.
And dangerous.
The wolf within me was eager to claim her mate, certain that he was ready. But I knew better. The man was just as much a part of Lachlan as his wolf and the man might never be able to see the truth—that I was his mate. The second mate he would have in his life.
It was extraordinary among our kind to have more than one mate. Though the death of a mate wouldn’t kill us right away, the remaining wolf would often wallow in grief until their body gave up. When the spirit was unwilling to continue living, the body would acquiesce.
Lachlan’s body was beginning to regain strength, as was his mind. It made me hope for more, which I had no business doing. I couldn’t. If I allowed myself to consider that he might one day be able to take another mate, my wolf would wrest control of the situation. I would claim him whether he wanted me to or not.
I couldn’t do that to Lachlan. Until he was ready to acknowledge the possibility of a connection between us, I couldn’t broach the subject. My yearning for him was too strong and I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to put my mark upon him and make him mine.
Water trickled down from the corner of my eye and I sucked in a deep breath, dropping beneath the surface. I hated crying. It was counterproductive. When I’d mastered the urge, I broke through the water and pulled the plug. As the water drained, I washed my body and hair, taking a moment to rinse off beneath the weak stream of water that the showerhead released. Another reason I preferred a bath to a shower. It was difficult to even get my entire body wet with the lack of water pressure, much less clean.
I dried off, dressed in my pajamas, and brushed my teeth. Though it was barely ten, it had been a long, trying day and I was ready for bed. When I came out of the bathroom, I saw a black duffel bag sitting on the sofa next to a pillow and blanket that must have come from the trunk at the end of the mattress. Lach and I hadn’t discussed where he would sleep, but it was clear he’d decided to take the couch. I wasn’t going to argue. I’d passed out on it the first night here and it wasn’t very comfortable. Though, it was wide and long, big enough to easily accommodate a man Lach’s size, the cushions were nearly flat. It would serve him right for showing up here and being bossy.
Lachlan looked up from the sink where he was washing the dishes he’d used. “Feel better?”
I nodded. “Look, I know it’s early, but I’m going to bed. If you want to watch TV, go ahead. I’m so tired I’ll probably sleep right through it.” It was a lie. I’d always been a light sleeper, even worse now that I was here at Darrell’s cabin, investigating the death of my parents.
“I’m tired myself. I’m going to take a shower and do the same.”
“Okay. Night, Lach.”
“Night, Chloe.”
Since there was no wall between the sleeping area and the rest of the cabin, I walked over to the far side of the bed and lay down facing the wall, picking up the book I’d bought a couple of weeks ago. I rarely sat still long enough to read, but I found I slept better when I took a little time to unwind before I turned out the light.
As soon as Lach finished washing dishes, he moved to his bag, digging around inside it for a few minutes. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.
When the door shut behind him, I sighed softly and closed my book. I’d been reading the same paragraph since I opened it anyway. I lay on my side, staring at the wall in front of me and listening to the sound of running water as it beat down on the porcelain tub.
Before I realized it was happening, I was asleep.
The thrashing sound woke me. I lay completely still, forcing myself to breathe slowly and deeply as though I were still asleep, and listened. Had someone broken into the cabin?
Then I heard it again, followed by a low growl that raised a chill on my skin. The growl deepened and grew louder, until it seemed to shake the cabin.
It took me a moment to realize that it was coming from the sofa. When I did, I sat up and saw that Lachlan was moving restlessly.
I climbed out of bed, moving slowly toward him. “Lachlan,” I called. “You need to wake up.”
He didn’t respond. He was too lost in the nightmare.
“Ian!” I shouted.
Nothing except a short break in the growl before it resumed, louder and more vicious than before.
I saw the agonized expression on his face and my heart hurt. I knew he had dreamt of the night that Belinda died for months afterward. Finally after about a year, he’d convinced me that the nightmares didn’t come very often any longer.
As I watched him writhe it became clear to me that he’d lied so that people would stop asking him about them.
Bracing myself, I moved closer to him. I didn’t want to touch him while he was in the throes of a bad dream. It could result in one or both of us getting hurt, but it was clear that he wouldn’t wake up any other way and I couldn’t let him continue with that horrible dream.
I reached out, standing just behind his head, and clasped his shoulder, shaking it firmly. “Lachlan, it’s Chloe. Wake up!”
Just as I knew he would, he snarled and turned on me in a flash, his body tackling me to the ground. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing me, his brain still locked in the past.
His fingers dug into my hips, causing me to cry out in pain. I didn’t want to fight him. He was hurting enough and I didn’t want to cause more agony. Instead, I lifted my hands and cupped his cheeks.
“Lachlan,” I whispered. “You’re safe. You need to wake up.”
Without thinking, I moved my thumb and it brushed across his lower lip.
Immediately, he stilled. His hands still held me a shade too tightly, but it no longer hurt. His chest moved rapidly as he panted. He was poised between sleep and wakefulness.
“It’s Chloe, Lach. You need to wake up and talk to me,” I commanded softly.
Slowly, his eyelids lifted and he looked down at me, his eyes glassy. “Chloe?”
“I’m here, Ian.”
He collapsed on me then, his body trembling violently as he sucked in deep, broken gasps. I felt the dampness of tears on my shoulder and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, cradling him close. He needed my comfort, however I could give it to him.
“I’m here, I’m here,” I crooned softly. “You were dreaming. It’s okay.”
His hands released my hips and he shoved them beneath me, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.
“Chloe,” he whispered. “Oh God, Chloe.”
I didn’t ask him what he’d dreamed about because I knew. His nightmares were always about the mate that he’d had and lost. The mate he would have given anything to hold once again.
My heart broke for us both because we were never going to get what we yearned for most—the other half of our soul.