Chapter Ten
It took a lot of effort to pry her eyes open. How she’d become so trapped in sleep, she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t shake it off. Her eyes were all but glued shut, and her body felt weighed down by a ton of bricks—centered on her extremely sore side. The more awake she was, the more vivid the pain. She pressed a hand against her side, startled by the uneven skin.
She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sunlight that spilled into the room.
Oscar?
She sat up quickly. “Shit,” she hissed, pressing her hand to her side. She was naked. She pushed the sheets down, revealing a scar. What the hell had happened? She and Finn… She was flooded with warmth. He hadn’t hurt her. So how had this happened?
She stood, favoring her side, and moved to the crib.
No Oscar. But here at the refuge, they were safe. Finn must have him. Knowing that eased her worry. She hobbled into the bathroom, turned on the lights, and stared at her reflection. The scar resembled a puncture wound, with fine thin, lines radiating out, like a starburst.
Exactly like Finn’s.
She turned, seeing an almost identical scar on her back. Her fingers lightly traced along the hyper-sensitized flesh, marveling. He’d marked her, irrefutably. And she liked it. Even if it hurt like hell. She leaned against the counter, unsteady on her feet. She slowly brushed her teeth before turning on the shower.
The waterfall shower was heaven. She braced her hands on the wall, letting the hot water ease her stiff side. The more relaxed she was, the more memories surfaced. Finn. His eyes. The feel of him inside her. She ached, the craving so overwhelming she leaned against the wall.
Washing her hair was hard work. Her side ached miserably, so she did the best she could, resting now and again.
“Need help?” Finn’s voice.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I think I’ve got it,” she answered, smiling.
“You’re weak.” His hand rested on her belly as his chest pressed against her back. “I would have helped you.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, the thrill of his touch on her skin electric. She shuddered, hissing at the pull on her side.
“You’re hurting.” His fingers traced the scar on her back. “I’m sorry.”
She turned in his hold. “About?”
“Scarring you.” His hands clasped her face.
She shook her head, smiling at him. “No one can doubt I’m yours now.”
His jaw tightened before he eased her close. His forehead rested against hers. “You wouldn’t wake up,” he murmured. “You were hurting.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
He tilted her head back, searching her face with his clear blue gaze. She swallowed, reeling from the possessiveness on his face. “I wasn’t,” he said. “I can’t see you hurting. I can’t.” The last word was a growl.
She kissed him, standing on tiptoe to twine her arms around his neck. It didn’t matter if it hurt her side; he needed comfort, and she needed to give it to him. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.
“Eleven hours.”
And just like that her scar—all her aches and pains—seemed unimportant.
Tonight was the full moon. “Where’s Oscar?” she asked, the tightness in her throat pinching her voice.
Finn’s gaze met hers. “He’s with his uncles. He’s in good hands.”
But that didn’t ease the flare of panic she felt. “Tonight?”
He nodded.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Stay with him.” He kissed her, his jaw tightening before he added. “I can’t stop the change—”
“I know.” She nodded. She’d be alone with a house full of wolves. And Oscar. “Is…is there anything I can do to help him? If he needs help?”
He shook his head. “If it happens, there’s nothing any of us can do.”
She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to his. “I’m scared.”
His arms tightened around her. “He’ll be okay. He’s my son.”
She nodded, wanting to believe him.
“You need to eat,” he said, reaching around her to turn off the shower. “And clothes.”
She followed him from the shower, letting him dry her with a fluffy black towel. He knelt, gently stroking the scar on her back with his fingers. Then her stomach. He kissed the scar, resting his head on her stomach. “I didn’t know.”
“I know.” She ran her fingers through his wet hair. “Would it have changed anything?”
He looked up at her, the hunger in his eyes instantly igniting her need. “Maybe…”
She frowned, staring down at him. “Finn—”
“I can’t hurt you.” The edge to his voice was sharp, insistent…and wonderful. He cared about her, deeply. She felt it. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze feasting on her bare body.
She smiled. “So are you.”
“I want you.” The rasp in his voice made her quiver. “I need you.” His hand pressed over the thatch of hair between her legs. His nose traced the inside of her thigh, his breath a caress on her skin. Her hands gripped his shoulders, holding herself up as she arched into his touch. But the pain in her side caught her by surprise, white-hot and searing. She froze, her hand clapping over the scar and muffling her whimper.
He was up, swinging her into his arms when she would have crumpled. “Jessa? Shit,” he growled. “Dammit.”
She wanted to tell him she was okay, but it hurt too much to form a coherent sentence. When he lay her on the bed, she grabbed his hand and pressed it against the scar.
“Wait,” she whispered, his touch easing the pain.
He stared at her, concern creasing his forehead. “This helps?” he asked.
She nodded, letting his warmth seep into her. It did. If it were possible, she’d think his touch was healing her from the inside. Beneath his hand, she felt stronger, the pain reduced to a dull ache.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his palm all but glued to her side. The other stroked her wet hair from her face, his fingers tracing her temple and jaw. His eyes burned with something. Not hunger or passion but anger…and maybe, regret. She didn’t like the way he seemed to withdraw from her, even with his hand on her body.
“Finn, stop,” she said.
When he would have lifted his hand, she held it in place.
“Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking,” she said.
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Now you know what I’m thinking?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly. But I don’t want to see…regret on your face when you look at me.”
He blew out a long breath. “I did this to you.”
“I will heal,” she argued.
He shook his head. “Nothing will ever be the same, Jessa.”
“I know.” She sat up slowly, letting go of his hand. “But I have you. And Oscar. So, everything is better.”
He stared down at her, his expression unreadable. He turned, pulling some long john pants and one of his flannel shirts from a dresser, offering them to her.
She buried her face in them. “They smell like you.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come on.” The words were hoarse. “You need to eat. And Oscar misses you.”
She let him help her get dressed. She was already feeling better, but there was no denying she was tender. When she was dressed and she’d run a comb through her hair, she turned to find Finn frowning at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re too distracting.”
She smiled. “It’s a bad thing that you find me distracting?”
He gripped her shoulders in his hands. “I don’t want anyone else to feel this way about you.” His face hardened. “I don’t think I’d handle it well.”
She shook her head. “I’m yours.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Knowing that should help, maybe?” she asked, curious about this new, territorial Finn.
He shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”
…
He kept her hand in his. He felt more vulnerable now than before he’d claimed her. Touching her seemed to help. So, he kept touching her. He’d only left her to take Oscar to Anders. She needed sleep. He needed her. And Oscar needed a bottle. Anders had taken his son with a wink and a smile. But he’d come back to wake her, to take care of her, and she hadn’t been in bed.
He’d panicked.
Watching his scar mar her smooth skin had been a nightmare. It wasn’t enough that he’d claimed her, now his mark was on her skin. He wouldn’t have blamed her for running. It was the wolf that calmed him down. The wolf knew she’d never leave.
Instead, she’d held him close, let him come apart in her arms, and smiled over the scar. She liked being marked by him. And it filled him with pride to know it.
And shame. He should have told her about the condom, should admit there might be more to worry about. But he couldn’t, not yet. Tomorrow, after the moon, he’d lay it all out there and they’d face it together.
“He’s gone through like four bottles,” Anders said as they walked into the great room.
“Four?” Jessa took Oscar, concerned. She ran her hand across Oscar’s forehead and stomach. “Diapers?” Finn followed her, standing at her side, needing her close.
“He’s filled a few,” Anders added. “It’s like he’s getting ready for winter or something.”
Jessa’s gaze flew to his.
“Or something,” Dante said.
“We suspected as much.” Hollis shrugged. “Theoretically, it won’t hurt him like it does the three of you. He’s an infant. His bones aren’t fused into place, and he’s limber. Yes, he will feel pain, but he’ll come through it okay.”
Jessa bounced Oscar in her arms, her anxiety reaching him.
“He’s eaten considerably more than an infant his age. No throwing up, no excessive bowel movements. And he’s been wide awake. I’d say he senses a change coming,” Hollis looked at Finn.
Finn’s arm slipped around Jessa’s waist. “Then we wait and see. You’ll stay close?” he asked.
Hollis nodded. “If I’m able.”
“I thought… Don’t you all change?” Jessa asked.
“Hollis has never been a wolf,” Finn said.
She glanced at each of them. “But you said—”
“Oh, he bit all of us,” Anders said. “Left Dante here almost without an arm.”
He had very few memories of that day. Snippets of the attack. Sounds, tastes, smells… He’d been beyond control. They all had when they’d changed the first time. He’d seen the scar on Dante’s arm, knew it had forced Dante’s first change to last a week—just so his body could heal.
Finn glanced at Oscar, staring up at Jessa. Would she be safe tonight? Or should he make Hollis watch over Oscar? As much as he wanted to believe Oscar wasn’t a threat to Jessa, there were no guarantees. He couldn’t risk losing both of them.
“I have a heart arrhythmia. I believe it makes the change dormant,” Hollis said. “I carry the infection. My blood is just like theirs under a microscope. Instead of turning into a wolf, I run a fever, suffer chest pain and shortness of breath, throw up blood, pass-out, and generally feel like hell for twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”
“Oh.” Jessa’s sympathy was visible. Finn had to agree. He wasn’t thrilled that he was ruled by the moon, but he thought Hollis had the worst of it. “And if you treat the arrhythmia”
“I change.” Hollis shook his head.
“So he has no interest in treating it,” Dante said.
“Can you blame him?” Finn asked.
Dante shrugged. “It’s not all bad. I’d rather be hunting something down that fainting like a girl.” He grinned at Hollis before asking, “Speaking of girls. How are you feeling, Jessa?”
Finn glanced at Dante, noting the smile on his face—and Ander’s and Hollis’s. He sighed.
“Oh, and, welcome to the family,” Anders said. “Glad Finn’s decided to keep you. If he didn’t, Dante and I were planning to—”
“Stop now.” His tone was short and hard.
“I’m glad, too,” she said. “Thank you. And thank you for taking care of Oscar. Now, anyone hungry?”
“You shouldn’t be cooking,” Hollis argued. “You should be resting.”
Anders laughed. “Long night?”
Dante grinned. “Guess you still know how to let the wolf take charge after all, eh, Finn?”
“I can cook,” Jessa said, her cheeks red.
“May I share?” Hollis asked, glancing between him and Jessa. “It might be useful information if they find a mate.”
Finn looked at Jessa. Hollis had a point. Anders and Dante—hell, even Hollis—might want a heads-up that they’d put the one they loved most through agony to claim them. She frowned at him, but Finn nodded.
“The bond between them was cemented by a shared wound,” Hollis said.
Anders frowned, and Dante glared at Finn. “What the fuck did you do?” Dante snapped.
Hollis held up his hands. “Nothing. But once they’d…mated…Finn’s wound—the one that turned him—appeared on Jessa.”
Anders and Dante stared at Jessa.
“No shit?” Anders asked.
Jessa finished adding pasta to the water and held up her shirt. “No shit,” she said, smiling at him.
“Did it…did you feel it?” Dante’s question was thick. “Or did it just appear?”
Finn stared at the floor, understanding what he was asking. Dante’s arm…the pain he’d suffered. How could he do that to someone? Willingly put them through that?
“Jessa?” Hollis asked.
“There was pain,” she said, but she didn’t add anything. She focused on their dinner.
Fifteen minutes later, they gathered around the large kitchen table. Jessa’s mountain of spaghetti and meatballs disappeared rapidly. Conversation was teasing, reminding him just how important these men were to him. They were his friends, yes. But their wolves made them family, a pack he was proud to be a part of. They were here. And for that, he was thankful. All families had their shit.
By the time dinner was over, it was nearing nine. And, as much as he hated to leave them, he wasn’t ready to change in front of her.
Oscar was fussing, something he rarely did. Finn could tell Jessa was worried—so was he. But there was nothing he could do. Being so helpless killed him.
“She’s waiting this out in your room?” Hollis asked.
Finn nodded.
“I need to clean up,” Jessa said, eyeing the dishes.
Finn shook his head. “It’ll wait.”
He followed Jessa to their room, watching her cradle Oscar in her arms and offer him his bottle. She smiled, so in love with his son that his heart swelled. He lingered, ignoring the prick and pull of change on his skin. He didn’t want to leave her. It felt wrong.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said.
She nodded. “Be safe.”
He crossed the room and kissed her, leaving her breathless. “I’m close by.” He slipped the medallion off and handed it to her. “Keep it safe for me?”
She nodded.
It took everything he had to leave the room. But keeping her inside, with Oscar, was the only thing that made sense. He wanted to believe that Anders and Dante offered no threat, but they’d never had someone outside the pack there before. Yes, she was his mate, and Oscar was his son, but he wasn’t ready to risk their allegiance, or put them in harm’s way.
“I’ll stay with her,” Hollis said. “Oscar?”
“He’s going to turn.” Finn could feel the energy in his son.
“If I need to separate them?” Hollis asked.
He shook his head. “Whatever it takes, keep them safe.”
Hollis nodded and closed the door, locking the deadbolt.
He lingered outside, pacing back and forth. He had to believe they would be safe.
“Come on, Finn,” Dante called. “You’ll do more good protecting them than worrying over them.”
Finn nodded.
“Besides, between Hollis and your pup, I’d say she’s got a rock-solid security team.” Anders clapped him on the shoulder. “Man, I can’t wait to run tonight.”
The three of them stripped down. Anders tossed his clothes on the floor while Finn and Dante folded theirs. When they stood on the front porch, Finn welcomed the pull of change. The scent of the pines flooded his nose, along with the winter wind, a distant elk, and the highway miles beyond that. His eyesight sharpened, aided by a million stars and the glow of a perfect white moon.
He gave the others a brief nod and headed into the trees, the rip and snap of change starting immediately. He fell forward, his hands curling in, nails slicing through the knuckles into long claws. He relaxed, easing the dislocation of his jaw, the lengthening of his bones and teeth, the stretch and tug of his muscles. His skin gave easily, tearing as his thick brown coat covered him from paw to tail. Each vertebra popped into place, his shoulders collapsing in as his chest bowed forward. His senses sharpened, noting each bug and bird, the scents of Anders’s and Dante’s wolves, the sound of Jessa humming to Oscar inside the cabin.
He swallowed, staring at the orange glow of her window.
His wolf listened to her, aching to go to her. To be with his son.
Instead, he ran, letting his paws carry him to the far perimeter. Anders’s wolf greeted him, climbing all over him in eagerness. Finn snapped at him and set off, knowing Anders would follow. They circled the refuge twice before meeting Dante. His greeting was more subdued, but he was happy to be free—to be a wolf—for now.
The refuge wolves were timid, needing time to reacquaint themselves with them, make sure there was no threat. Finn waited until he saw the pack alpha then perked up, throwing back his head to howl his greeting to the others. He was home with his mate and son. And he wanted them all to know it.