Page 10 of Mating Mia (The Alphas’ Perfect Prey #2)

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. . .

Finn

I watch Liam’s chest rise and fall, counting each shallow breath like it might be his last. The old wolf looks like death warmed over—skin stretched tight over bones that have forgotten what meat feels like, scars layered upon scars like a roadmap of decades of torture.

He shouldn't be alive. No one should survive what’s been done to him. Yet here he is, clinging to life with a stubbornness that makes something in my chest tighten with grudging respect.

The cabin is quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire in the other room and Liam’s raspy breathing.

I’ve done what I can for his wounds. I worked on cleaning the raw mess of his back where that whip tore into him, bandaged the worst of it, forced water and broth between his cracked lips while he was unconscious.

My hands, more accustomed to ending lives than preserving them, feel clumsy with these tender ministrations.

His eyelids flutter, and I tense, watching as awareness slowly returns to him. Those pale green eyes, so much like Mia’s, open gradually, confusion giving way to sharp focus as he takes in his surroundings. When his gaze lands on me, there’s no fear, only assessment.

He’s calculating his odds, just as I would in his position.

"You’re awake," I say, keeping my voice low and neutral, not to alarm him. I reach for the cup of water I’ve kept ready, adding a straw I found in one of the kitchen drawers. "Drink. Slowly."

I hold the cup near his face, but instead of accepting my help, his hand shoots out with surprising strength, grabbing the cup.

He plucks the straw out, tossing it to the floor with disdain, and brings the cup to his lips.

Water dribbles down his chin as he gulps greedily, but he doesn't seem to care.

When he's drained it dry, he hands the empty cup back to me, a challenge in his eyes.

I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. This son of a bitch is strong. More than twenty years of torture, starvation, and confinement, yet he still has the spirit to reject help that makes him feel weak. I recognize that pride. Respect it.

"More?" I ask, already reaching for the pitcher.

He shakes his head, pushing himself up to a sitting position with a wince he tries to hide.

"You won't want to be taking care of an old geezer like me," he says, his voice rough from disuse. "Go to your omega. My daughter needs you."

The mention of Mia sends a spike of possessive heat through my blood. I can smell her even from here, the honey-sweet scent of her heat calling to something primal in me. But I’ve learned control over my instincts. It’s what makes me the most dangerous of Kane’s pack.

"I need to make sure you’re alive and taken care of first," I tell him, though the wolf in me is howling to go to her, to claim her, to satisfy the need I can sense building in her again.

Liam studies me, his gaunt face unreadable. "You’re the quiet one," he says finally. "The watcher. The killer."

“I’m a little quiet, yes,” I say, not bothering to deny it. I’m the type to observe people more than talk about myself. My hands have ended more lives than I care to count. Violence comes as naturally to me as breathing. The weight of my knife against my ankle is a constant reminder of what I am.

"And now you’re playing nurse to a broken old wolf," he continues, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Quite the change of pace."

"Life is full of surprises," I reply dryly.

Liam shifts, grimacing as the movement pulls at his wounds. "How is she? My daughter."

"She’s safe," I assure him. "Heat-sick, but we’re taking care of her."

"Good." He nods, satisfied. Then, to my surprise, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, his movements stiff but determined. "I need to go."

I raise an eyebrow. "You can barely stand."

“I’ve been waiting years for this moment,” he says, eyes burning with an intensity that reminds me, again, of Mia. "I have one job now. Find Sarah. My mate. My omega."

“Your wounds?—“

"Will heal," he interrupts. “Faster once I’m shifted. A wolf’s body knows how to repair itself better than a human’s.” He fixes me with that intense stare again. “Take care of my daughter. That’s all I ask.”

The request isn’t necessary. I would die for Mia without hesitation. I’ve already killed for her, and I would do it again. But I understand his need to hear it said aloud.

“I promise you,” I tell him, the words carrying the weight of an oath. “No harm will come to her while I’m alive.”

Liam studies me for a long moment, then nods, apparently satisfied with what he sees. “You are an honorable, good alpha. All of you for taking care of me. I owe you my life.”

The compliment, unexpected from this proud, broken wolf, catches me off guard. I’ve been called many things in my life— dangerous, deadly, ruthless, but "good" has rarely been among them.

"I'll be back to check on her," Liam continues, pushing himself to his feet. He sways slightly but catches himself against the bedpost. "But I’ve been waiting for years to be free. To look for my omega. I can feel her out there, somewhere. The bond is faint, but it never broke. She’s alive."

I nod, understanding.

If Mia were taken from me, nothing would stop me from searching for her until my last breath. The mate bond is sacred, unbreakable. Even years of separation couldn’t sever it for this old wolf.

Liam moves to the window, pushing it open to let in the cool night air. The scent of pine and earth floods the small room. He turns to me one last time. “Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. Tell her I’ll find her again when it’s safe. When I’ve found her mother.”

“I will,” I reply, watching as Liam shifts into his natural wolf form.

The shift is slow, painful to watch—his weakened state making the transformation more difficult than it should be.

Bones crack and realign; skin stretches and sprouts coarse, gray fur.

Human features elongate into a muzzle. When it’s complete, an elderly wolf stands before me, much smaller and thinner than a healthy alpha should be.

His fur is patchy, revealing the same scars that marked his human form.

One ear is partially missing, and he holds one paw slightly off the ground.

I move to the window, watching as he gauges the distance to the ground. It's not far—just a few feet—but in his condition, every impact could reopen wounds.

"The pack that took you," I say quietly. “They’ll be looking for you.”

The wolf turns his head to me, and I swear I see something like a smile in those intelligent eyes. Then, without further hesitation, he leaps from the window, landing with a soft thud on the pine-needle-covered ground below.

He staggers for a moment but rights himself, shaking out his ragged coat.

I watch as he pads into the forest, his gait uneven but determined. Each step seems to strengthen him, as if the very act of freedom is healing what torture broke. Within moments, he’s swallowed by the darkness between the trees, gone like a ghost.

I close the window slowly, thinking of Orion and his pack. They'll be hunting us—of that, I have no doubt. The loss of both Mia and Liam will be a blow to their pride that they won’t ignore.

We’ll need to move soon, find somewhere more defensible than this isolated cabin.

But those concerns can wait until morning. Right now, there's a more immediate need calling to me, pulling at my senses like a physical tether. Mia's scent has grown stronger in the last few minutes, the sweet honey aroma thickening with unmistakable arousal.

Her heat is rising again.

I leave the empty bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. The night is young, and my omega needs me. The thought of her waiting, wet and wanting, pushes all other concerns from my mind. She needs me.

I follow her scent down the darkened hallway, each step bringing me closer to that intoxicating honey sweetness. My cock is already hardening in my sweatpants, responding to my omega in heat.

I’m itching to touch her again.

To claim her.

To knot her.

The wolf inside me is restless, eager to sink into her softness and knot her until she’s screaming my name. Until she forgets everyone but me.

The bedroom door is ajar, moonlight spilling through the window to illuminate the three figures on the bed.

Kane is on her right, his large body curled protectively around her even in sleep, one arm draped possessively across her waist. Jace lies to her left, face peaceful in slumber.

And between them, my sweet omega, her body restless with the fever of her heat.

Mia lies on her stomach, face buried in the pillow, her chestnut hair spread across the white cotton like spilled ink. The thin nightgown she’s wearing has ridden up to her mid-thigh, revealing long, smooth legs that part slightly as she shifts in discomfort.

Soft whimpers escape her, the sound of an omega in need even as she sleeps.

I approach the bed silently, my eyes never leaving her form. Her scent grows stronger as I near the bed, honey and heat and the faint musk of sex from earlier couplings with my packmates. My cock throbs painfully against my sweatpants, already leaking pre-cum at the mere smell of her.

I reach the edge of the bed, careful not to wake Kane or Jace. They’ve had their way with her today; now she’s mine. Gently, I place one knee on the mattress between her slightly parted legs. She stirs at the movement but doesn’t wake, just shifts her hips restlessly, seeking relief even in sleep.

Slowly, reverently, I slide my hands up the backs of her thighs, pushing the nightgown higher until it bunches around her waist. She’s wearing nothing underneath, which is our preference to keep her accessible at all times, especially during her heat.

The sight of her bare ass and pussy makes my mouth water. My cock tightens as I stare at her nakedness.