“Emory?”
He whined again, inching closer, and she had her answer.
The tears she’d kept at bay crashed through her defenses, making her vision blur and her eyes burn. She reached for him, recognizing him on levels she didn’t fully understand. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her face against his neck. She wasn’t going to ask how he’d survived, grateful for a second chance. As though he felt her anguish, he moved his head slightly, the warmth of his breath grazing her ear.
“Don’t go,” she pleaded when he moved from her embrace, breaking free of her arms. Fear and built-up tension combined, making her lightheaded. “Please, don’t go.”
His response was a swift nuzzle of her cheek, his nose chilly against her skin. He didn’t go far, stopping a couple feet away and lowering his head. There was nothing amazing about witnessing him change forms. In fact, it looked painful. His bones changed shape as fur receded, revealing the tanned flesh she’d been so eager to touch minutes before. He seemed to shrink and expand in certain places, his whine changing to a groan.
She rested her head against her arms near the end, hating to be the cause of his pain, unable to watch him finish.
The change had never been so fucking difficult. Emory wanted to make it fast and spare Mary the horror of seeing him shift forms this early on in their mating. He’d thought he’d be able to take her someplace special, Ava’s cabin in Tennessee, perhaps. There he and Mary would make love under the afternoon sun, exhausting all their strength. Later he would introduce her to the side of him that ached for her as much as the man. Unfortunately the silver inside his body slowed his transformation, making the transition painful and awkward. He muffled as much of his misery as he could, not wanting her to hear it. To his relief, she placed her head on her knees, giving him the dignity of finishing without an audience.
She didn’t look up when he moved closer. Her terror rolled off her in waves, the acrid smell of her fear almost more than he could stand. He was already on the brink, more animal than human. If anything could set him off, it would be his female’s stress.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said softly and placed his hand on the back of her head. The tremor that greeted him made him want to rip something apart.
Like Elijah.
The motherfucker had gotten into Diskant’s home. Emory didn’t know how the bastard accomplished the feat. Entering a pack’s den was a stupid thing to do. Something people thinking on a logical level would never even consider. Knowing that Shepherds had come here, ready to take his mate, changed his perspective in so many ways. He’d promised Mary they’d move to their own home, but it might take awhile. Until this shit was settled, the pack would go under lockdown. Safety in numbers would become a rule, not a request.
The gasp that passed her lips when he inspected her shoulder made him grind his teeth. She’d been shot. His mate had been fucking shot. The bullet had passed cleanly through, leaving the tissue red and raw but non-threatening. With the bloodbond she’d heal a little faster, but it had to hurt.
Others are hurt too. Assess the situation. Find out what’s going on.
“Mary.” He tried to talk quietly, worried he might frighten her. “I need to check on Nathan.”
Her head flew up and she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding on tight. “Don’t leave. It’s not safe.”
“They’re gone.” Even though the sudden movement aggravated the bullet wounds in his chest, he didn’t allow it to show. Soon—he hoped—Doc would be back and would remove the slugs. He wanted to growl, his wolf demanding his enemies pay with their lives. “I saw them leaving when I came downstairs.”
“You did?” When she pulled away her eyes were wide. “You’re sure?”
Fucking-A, he was sure. If it wasn’t for his deep-seated need to find Mary he would have taken them down one by one, saving her uncle for last.
Taking a deep breath, he answered, “Yes, I’m sure. The only reason I didn’t follow them is you’re more important. I had to see you first.”
It was as if a switch were flipped, taking her from terrified to concerned. Mary ran her hands over his chest, inspecting his wounds, her fingers shaking. “What about you? How are you here? I saw him shoot you. I know I did.”
“I’m fine. I’ll heal.” He grasped her wrists, stilling the motions of her hands. “But Nathan might not.”
The door swung open and he jumped to his feet, ready to rumble, only to see Nathan’s scowling face. Despite a thin slice at his temple and a large patch of blood that bloomed over his shoulder, the Beta was no worse for the wear.
“Don’t worry about me.” Nathan moved his head from side to side, cracking his neck and wincing. He lifted his hand to his head, touching the area that had started to mend. “The bastards just nicked me. I’ve had worse.”
“Worse? There’s worse than this? What are you, shifters or supermen?” Mary asked with a strangled giggle. The sound sent chills along Emory’s spine, warning him she was close to losing what control she had left. She’d endured so much only to face this. No wonder she was finally cracking under the pressure.
The red cloud hanging over him only worsened. Until he knew what was taking place outside, he couldn’t secure a location for Mary and spend the time necessary to rebuild the trust her family had just fucking destroyed.
“Oh shit. Oscar,” Nathan said sadly and kneeled in the doorway. “Damn, this is going to break Diskant’s heart.”
Or piss him off more than he already is.
Emory reached for Mary. There was nothing he could do about Diskant’s now-deceased pet. The poor pooch was gone. He knew it the minute he saw the gaping hole in the dog’s chest. A shifter could survive a severe injury—even from a gun at point-blank range—but a normal animal couldn’t. They healed too slowly, would bleed out in seconds.
“He saved me,” she said softly, her voice heavy with new tears. “Oscar stopped Elijah.”
“Then there aren’t enough steaks and bones waiting for him where he’s going,” he murmured, his heart slamming inside his chest. She’d come so close to being hurt. He’d almost failed to protect her.
Diskant’s incensed roar carried through the house and Emory closed his eyes, fighting his wolf and its response to the Alpha’s battle cry. He’d heard the fighting outside, known the pack had returned when he rushed downstairs to find Mary. There would be blood—so much carnage—and retribution after tonight’s events. Now that they had reassembled, it would become official.
“Let me see him.” Diskant sounded as devastated as Emory expected him to be. The Omega’d had the dog for several years, having rescued him when he was a pup. “Good man,” Diskant whispered, voice shaking. “I’m sorry, boy.”
Ignoring the pain from his injuries, Emory lifted Mary and cradled her against his chest. Instead of facing the pack, she turned her head away and closed her eyes. He walked around the desk. The pack filled in the space behind Nathan. Emory searched for his brother’s face, hoping he would see it, somehow knowing he wouldn’t.
“Where’s Trey?”
“He wasn’t with Ava.” Diskant appeared, carrying Ava in his arms. Emory wasn’t sure if the male was shaking from rage or grief. “His scent wasn’t in the building either. They took him to another location. I knew something was off the minute we found her. Sons of bitches wanted to divert our attention.”
“We have to find him.”
The pack growled their agreement, as ready for a fight as Emory. The longer Shepherds had Trey, the less likely the pack was to get him back alive. Considering what had just happened, the hourglass had been turned. The sands were slowly dwindling to nothing.