Page 14 of Rising Reign (The Wolves of Crescent Creek #3)

LOCKE

An edginess had settled over us as we headed back out into the sunshine. It didn’t matter that our conversation with the humans had ended in jokes, or that it was clear they had our backs, their knowing about us was a risk, and we knew it.

Everyone dealt with the edginess in different ways. Brix and Ender had done an especially brutal round of sparring. Puck made endless jokes about Juan trying to pet him. King spent a good hour running through precautionary measures for the gym with Clyde. And Wren…she’d gone quiet.

She’d spent the past hour alternating between running on the treadmill, jumping rope, and hitting the heavy bag. and refused any offers to spar or for someone to hold mitts for her. Every second that passed had her turning more inward.

I didn’t have Wren’s empathic gifts, but the fact that my wolf was submissive meant that I felt others’ emotions more intensely than most. And I could feel the anxiety wafting off Wren in waves.

Ender climbed behind the wheel of the SUV as the rest of us took other seats. Puck and Brix sat in the back, and King took the front passenger seat. The moment I climbed into the middle row after Wren, I tugged her gently onto my lap.

“Locke,” she protested.

“Let me have this,” I whispered.

Wren pulled back for a moment and studied me. She seemed to find…something because the tension radiating through her muscles eased a fraction, and she curled around me.

My wolf let out a rumbling, contented sound. He’d missed her. So damn much. I had, too. And it scared the hell out of me that we’d almost lost her. My hand shifted under Wren’s ponytail, kneading the back of her neck and letting her scent soothe my wolf.

“I picked the wrong damn seat,” Puck muttered.

Wren’s mouth curved against the skin of my neck. “I’ll cuddle with you later, buddy.”

“Damn straight, you will,” Puck huffed. “And there’ll be nothing buddy-like about it.”

Brix chuckled.

“Don’t you think we should be focusing on things other than getting laid?” Ender ground out.

Puck rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re not getting laid.”

Ender’s fingers tightened on the wheel as he turned onto the main road out of town. “I’m saying that because I’m partial to breathing. King just brought three humans into this mess. We could get the attention of Incantare, and we’re already in the sights of a psycho wolf with a revenge complex.”

The bit of tension that had slid out of Wren came back with a vengeance. Her fingers curled into my tee, stretching the cotton as if doing so could ward off her fears .

“Do you have a problem with my leadership?” Kingston growled low.

Ender’s gaze flicked to King momentarily before returning to the road. “You know I don’t. I just think we need to be prepared for what’s coming our way. We need to be mindful.”

“We’re doing that,” Brix said, his voice calm. “But you need to be honest about where this is really coming from. And that’s your wolf riding you because you haven’t bonded with Wren.”

He just had to drop that little bomb when we were all in an enclosed vehicle.

We all knew Ender’s determination to keep his distance would affect him.

His wolf didn’t understand his human hang-ups.

All his wolf knew was that they’d found their mate, and he wanted to claim her.

Now. The fact that his human side was getting in the way would put the two halves at odds.

And it was never good when the wolf and human sides were in opposition.

Ender let out a low growl, shooting off that he was the only one taking the threats against us seriously, and things devolved from there. As the arguing intensified, Wren curled into a tighter ball. She released her hold on me and covered her ears.

I felt it then. The pain this was causing her.

“Make it stop,” she croaked.

“Enough!” I barked.

The entire vehicle quieted as Ender slowed to a stop in front of the house.

“You know heightened emotions get to her. Grow the fuck up and deal with your shit.” I sent the last of those statements directly to Ender. None of us was perfect, I sure as hell wasn’t, but End was the one throwing us off so intensely. And it pissed me the hell off.

Shoving the door open, I cradled Wren against me and stalked toward the house.

I balanced her in one arm and punched in the code with the other.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I headed for my bedroom.

We hardly ever spent time in there, mainly because I spent more of my day in the lair than anywhere else, but right now, Wren needed quiet.

Light filtered into the space through the half-covered windows. The dark blues and grays of the furniture and finishes were meant to bring peace, and I hoped they did that for Wren. I gently laid her on my bed, and she curled up on her side.

“Sorry,” she slurred.

“You don’t have to be sorry about anything.” I brushed some hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her face and took in the lines of strain there. “Headache?”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper, as if even speaking it aloud hurt.

I moved quickly then, shutting the curtains so we were in full darkness and then moving to the small fridge in the corner. I pulled out a bottle of water and reached for the jar of herbs on top of the refrigerator. I measured two spoonfuls into the bottle and shook it.

I was back at the bedside in a flash, coaxing Wren into a seated position. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Wren’s hand moved to her stomach. “I’m not sure I can keep it down.”

“You can,” I promised. “There’s something in it that will help with the nausea.” I’d been down the migraine road too many times to count. Mine just usually came from staring at a screen for too long.

Wren’s brow furrowed, but she took a testing sip, then another, and then finally downed the whole thing. Within seconds, the lines of strain on her face were fading, and she slid back onto the pillows. “Stay with me?”

I got into bed next to her, but doing so hurt. A stabbing pain lit in my chest because I loved her so damn much, and I was so scared of losing her. My hands fisted at my sides as I fought back the other things I was feeling, the ugly stew I didn’t want to admit to.

Wren turned onto her side to face me. A different sort of line filled her face, a searching kind. “You keep holding yourself back from me.” Her voice was quieter now, fatigue trying to pull her under.

“Sleep,” I whispered.

“Why?” Wren pressed, desperation bleeding into her voice.

“We’ll talk when you wake,” I promised.

She grabbed my tee, fisting the material. “Why?”

I stared back at her, unable to allow her to think the worst. “I’m mad at you,” I confessed.

“Mad at me?” she parroted.

I nodded. “I’m furious that you sacrificed yourself for Clyde. I’m terrified that you’ll do something like that again and that I’ll lose you forever. And I can’t live without you, Wren.”

“Locke,” she whispered.

I pulled her into me, urging her head to my chest. I held tightly, knowing she was safe if she was in my arms. “Sleep. We’ll deal with it when you wake.”

She tried to argue, but the pull of sleep was too strong. She slipped off, and I kept holding on. Because it was the only thing I could do.