Chapter Fifteen

Ashley woke up alone in Blake's bed.

The warmth of his scent surrounded her, and she burrowed deeper into the covers, hiding her face against his pillow. For a few blissful moments, nothing else mattered, and nothing was wrong.

Then she remembered. The other pack, the fight, Grace, Tim—

Twin chills, one figurative and one very, very real, slithered up her spine as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

"It's okay." Connor sprawled next to the bed, in the chair that usually sat in front of the fireplace. "Everyone's okay, Ashley."

Not everyone. "Emmett and the others?"

"Not a problem anymore."

More bodies, then. More death. She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

The bed dipped, and Connor wrapped his arms around her. "I'm not. They hurt you. And Grace..." He dragged her closer. "I'm not sorry."

"It's just such a waste, that's all." Things really were going to hell, if Connor felt the need to climb into Blake's bed to comfort her. Ashley swiped at her cheeks and smiled. "You know, Blake might get the wrong idea if he finds you here."

Connor didn't say anything.

She felt it in his stillness, then, and wondered why she hadn't seen it before. He was being too careful with her—not like handling a wounded woman gently, but rather like trying not to spook a doomed creature.

A strange sort of detachment tingled through her, leaving her lips numb. "Where is he?"

At least he didn't lie to her. "He left a few hours ago."

"To go where?"

"Away." Connor cupped her face and rested his forehead against hers. "Lucas knows, I think. But the where's not the point."

"Then what?" She'd told him she loved him, had seen the same emotion burning in his eyes. "Why?"

He smoothed his hand down to brush the tender, bruised skin at the base of her throat. "Because he lost control and you got hurt. The stronger wolves... They can't handle that shit."

And having him walk out on her was supposed to hurt less? "When will he be back?"

Connor didn't answer right away. He slipped his fingers into her hair, tugging lightly through the loose strands and working away the tangles. "I'm not your mate. You can feel it, can't you? Part of you just knows."

"Connor—" She caught his wrists and held them still. She met his eyes, and her next question almost drowned under a wave of pain and disbelief. "He isn't coming back."

"It's not that simple—"

"He isn't coming back." They were words. Separately, she understood them all. Together, they were as incomprehensible as the sky being lime green, or getting out of bed to stand on the ceiling.

"Ashley." Connor tugged his hands free and grasped her shoulders. "That's why it matters, sweetheart. You know I'm not your mate. But if you can't say the same about Lucas—"

She shook away. "I don't want Lucas."

Connor caught her again, his grip firmer this time. "Are you sure?"

No. The answer came from deep inside, driven by that tiny, utterly primal part of her that still demanded that she test herself against their alpha, just in case. It was pure instinct, the very foundation of who she was—who they were.

And she would bury it forever, if that was the only way to bring Blake back to her.

"Oh, honey." He dragged her back into his arms and buried his face in her hair. "They never see," he whispered hoarsely. "They never see how much they help, only the shit they couldn't get done."

Blake was gone. He'd taken her confession of love, judged himself unworthy to keep it, and left her, all without a word. If she let it, the pain could splinter and destroy her.

Instead, she diverted it into anger, fierce and raw. She stumbled from the bed, dragging the sheet with her as she stomped from the room.

Jud stood in the hallway, full dressed and unusually somber. He raised both hands. "Ashley—"

"No." She wound the sheet around her body, gathering it so she wouldn't trip and break her neck as she hurried down the stairs.

Lucas was in his study off the great room, sharing a drink with Mac, despite the early hour. They both froze when she walked in, but Ashley was in no mood to be careful.

Or polite. She took Mac's glass, drained it in one painful gulp, and fixed Lucas with a glare. "You know where he is. Connor said so."

Mac took a step toward her. She bared her teeth at him, and he veered through the door instead, closing it behind him.

Lucas scrubbed his hands over his face before leaning back in his chair. "Are you angry, Ashley?"

"You're damn right, I am." It was better than the alternative, better than opening herself to the vast, excruciating emptiness that stretched out before her. "You let him go."

A spark flared in Lucas's eyes. "No one is a prisoner here. That goes for everyone, not just you and Grace."

"Fine. You didn't convince him to stay."

He rose. "What makes you think I even saw him?"

"You did." It was there, lurking behind the desperate indignation in his stare—the same cold pain that twisted her stomach into knots.

He finished his drink and dropped the glass to his desk with a thump. "At least you're mad as hell at the right person. He didn't leave because of you."

"No, because of us." And the chance that the word might even apply to the two of them.

"It's stupid." Lucas abandoned his desk, instead turning to gaze out the window, through the half-open blinds. "He wants you so much. By the time he got you here, he was already nuts about you. And I figured that staying away from you was the right thing to do, you know? Only I'm such an idiot." He spun around to face her. "And an arrogant asshole. Because it doesn't matter that I'm stronger, that I'm the alpha. If you and Blake are right for each other, then my dick's not going to make a difference. You're his."

Ashley's temper withered. Lucas had had the best of intentions in not fucking her, but all Blake had seen was the half-formed motivation behind it—if I take her, I might take her away. His alpha's reticence equaled possibility, no matter what they all wanted, and that possibility had driven Blake away.

She cleared her throat. "So what do we do?"

"What do you want to?"

"Find him," she answered without hesitation. "Tell him—no, words won't work. Make him see."

He eyed the rumpled sheet wrapped around her and grinned suddenly. "Then get dressed and let's go."