Page 107 of Bad Wolf's Nanny

“Of old ones,” Lola finished for him with a small, sad smile. “I can’t say I’m sorry that I will never see those cellars again.”

Dane’s jaw worked for a moment, something dark and angry flitting across his eyes, “Felix told me…Cassie told him about…about what you all went through. Down there.”

Lola sighed. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t terrifying. But Cassie told me about what happened when she and Rick were taken, and you had to go after those bounty hunters. I can’t imagine going through something like that alone. I had Cassie and Daisy and Marsha, and all the others. We looked after each other.”

“But you were alone,” he snarled, “when the others left. You were alone with them. Withhim.”

“Not for long,” she whispered, taking his hand, “you were coming for me. I knew you’d come for me. I couldn’t bear to haveyou walk into a trap to save us, knowing that we’d found a way out. I had to do something.”

The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he worked through his rage, and Lola just stood, letting him scent her, letting him hold her close.

It seemed that Nicolas wasn’t the only one struggling with animalistic tendencies.

She didn’t mind. It soothed something in her, something that still hadn’t quite recovered since facing down Red Teeth. Something small and scared.

But she didn’t have to be scared, not with Dane holding her tight. He would protect her. He would always protect her. And she would do her best to remind him every single day that he was worth loving. That he wasn’t the monster he was scared to be.

That he was a good male.

“Yanno,” he said, a slight sardonic twist to his voice, “you may not miss the cellars, but the archives, on the other hand…”

She pulled back abruptly, utterly horrified. “There were archives in the club?!”

He nodded gravely, “Even more precious than the ones at the library. Dating back hundreds of years. It’s sad really, all that knowledge lost…” he trailed off, a sparkle in his eye.

“You…youbeast,” she cried, slapping his arm, “you’re making that up!”

“I’m not,” he practically sang, “apparently there were scrolls there written by the first Viking shifters to sail over to the Americas.”

“Vikings didn’t writescrolls,you moronic—”

“Scrolls and diaries and even little shopping lists. Fascinating stuff. They were always on about combing their fur.”

“Dane,” she wailed, tugging his shirt, “pleasetell me there weren’t actually any archives in the club?”

“Of course there weren’t,” he said with a chuckle, catching her hands as she went to hit his arm again, “all that stuff’s locked away under Ethel’s terrifying guard. You’ll have access now that you’re pack.”

“You’reawful,” she said, despite the slight warmth that bloomed in her chest at his statement.

Pack. She was pack now. She was aware of the massive grin spreading across her face.

He pretended to shudder, “Oh God, don’t tell me that looks because of the archives. I’m never gonna see you again if you go into that library. I’ll have to pull you out from under a mountain of books. I’m gonna have to share you withmoths.”

“I think you mean woodworm,” she said with a laugh, “or bookworm, perhaps?”

“You’re the bookworm,” he said fondly, his hands settling around her waist.

“Afraid so,” she replied with a rueful grin, “and yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he agreed, resting his chin atop her head. She sighed, leaning into his warmth, her heart skipping a funny beat.

“You…you said something during the battle,” Lola said after a moment, peeking up at him through her lashes.

He offered her a lazy grin. “Aye, I said I lot of things. Mostly cussing.”

“No…not that,” she said, swatting his chest, “something about…about me.”

He hummed, his hands warm and heavy on her hips, “And what did I say about you?”