Page 36 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

PEACHES

E veryone at the den has questions, but I only have eyes for Javi.

It takes three days to get home—first by boat to some out-of-the-way port down the Louisiana coast, then the long, silent drive inland.

No one talks much. Not about what happened, not about what comes next.

The whole time, I barely leave Javi’s side.

I sleep curled around his wolf form in the back of the van, whispering his name, praying he’ll stay breathing.

He doesn’t shift back. He doesn’t speak.

But his heart keeps beating…and that’s enough to keep me going.

By the time we pull through the gates of the Austin Den, the sun is just starting to rise, casting the clearing in hazy gold.

We’re home.

The car door opens and I’m groggy, blinking against the light, sore from the road.

I slept maybe two hours last night, wrapped around Javi on the hard floor of the van.

My legs ache, and my whole body’s stiff, not to mention the bruises—one on my hip, another on my shoulder, both gifts from when Gideon threw me to the deck like I weighed nothing at all.

But I’m standing. I made it.

The second my boots hit the ground, my knees buckle a little—and then two pairs of arms catch me.

Charlotte on one side.

Maggie on the other.

I don’t even have time to register it before I’m sobbing, burying my face in the crook of Maggie’s neck.

She smells like rosemary shampoo and the safe kitchen at the heart of the den.

Like the mornings we used to spend making biscuits, listening to records, dreaming about love like it was something simple. Something soft.

I cry harder.

My whole body shudders with it.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers, her arms wrapping around me tighter. She presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Charlotte’s hand strokes my back in slow circles, steady and sure. No one rushes me. No one pulls away.

I think I’ll be doing a lot of this—crying for no reason, and every reason—over the next few weeks. Maybe months.

But I’m not crying alone.

I look from Maggie to Javi, tears blurring my vision.

“He needs help,” I say.

“They’re coming to get him,” she says. “Don’t worry, Peaches.”

How am I supposed to stop worrying? Javi’s getting worse; I can tell from the fact that he doesn’t snarl at the other alphas this time, letting them lift him limp from the floor.

More of my family comes out to carry him into the den—Grant, Elijah, Mateo.

There are so many people I need to talk to…

people to catch up with, to thank, to apologize to.

It’ll have to wait.

My mate needs me.

I follow the group out of the ship after they load Javi onto an oversized stretcher, Charlotte and Maggie never leaving my side.

Cicadas sing in the early spring night, their cadence a welcome change from the drift of ocean waves against the steel girders of the Rig.

Stars sparkle overhead, and a gentle wind plays across the grass.

It feels surreal to be back here, where I wished so often that I would find my mate and have a sweeping love story.

It was…it is.

I have to tell myself my love story is still happening.

He can’t be gone for good.

We walk as a group into the den, hushed voices coming to me from all around.

I catch sight of friends waiting to approach, treating me with reverence and caution.

Someone must have told them not to bother me when I came back…

Reyes, probably. He’s good at that—taking care of people, making sure that everyone feels safe and welcome.

“You should eat,” Charlotte says, squeezing my arm. “You should try—even if you’re not hungry.”

“I’m not—” I pause, realizing she’s already figured I would say no. “I would love whatever you have. Thank you.”

She nods. “My pleasure.”

She branches off to go down the tunnel to the visitors’ center, where the kitchen crew is probably already busy with breakfast preparations.

I feel this strange sense of familiarity at the same time that everything feels wrong, my stomach twisting and my throat tightening.

I wander toward the door to see that they’ve moved Javi to one of the cots, his wolf form spilling over the edges, too big to fit.

Suyin is ready to treat him, taking out all her diagnostic tools and listening to his pulse, checking his oxygen levels.

I slowly walk in…and for the first time, I truly see what he’s been turned into.

A shell.

Something that’s weak and vulnerable when he’s been protecting me this whole time.

It shakes me up, my world tilting.

“Help him,” I breathe to no one in particular. Suyin seems to hear me, though, lifting her head to meet my eyes.

“I’m going to take good care of him,” she says. “You should go get some food and try to rest?—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I cut in.

Will looks from me to Suyin, understanding in his gaze.

“They’re mated,” he says. “I think it would be best if we didn’t separate them.”

Her expression softens. “Understood,” she says. “Peaches—I assure you I’m going to treat him just like I would anyone in our pack.”

I bite my lip. “Thanks, Suyin.”

“He’s pack now,” Will says.

I come to stand on the opposite side of the bed, resting my hand on one of Javi’s legs. I wish he would shift back—it feels like I’m here with an alien, which I guess, in some ways, I am. I never really saw him shifted before, and I miss the way he looked at me, the way he’s so hesitant to smile…

I want his arms around me.

I sniffle and feel Maggie at my side again, her hand on my shoulder. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. I know she’s here.

Suyin turns around and grabs something from the counter, then reaches back for Javi with a needle in her hand.

“Suyin, don’t!” I say, alarm bells ringing in my head. “He was an addict, any sedative will make it worse?—”

“It’s not a sedative,” she says. “I’m just going to draw some blood to figure out what’s happening to him. Will…I hate to ask, but can you be ready to hold him down if he reacts poorly?”

Will nods and I hold Javi’s leg a little tighter, but he doesn’t react at all when the needle goes in. Suyin draws blood into the vial, and I notice a strange, shimmery sheen to it. My stomach flips.

“Is that normal?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

Suyin frowns. “Shit…I think I know what this is.”

“That sounds bad,” I murmur, my throat dry.

Maggie squeezes my shoulder.

“It’s something that appeared after the Convergence,” Suyin explains. “Usually in coastal cities. They call it kraken, but its real name is amphoria…”

“I know,” I say quietly. “I’ve seen it before. I used to live in New Orleans—it’s everywhere down there. It ruins people.”

Her eyes meet mine, understanding flickering between us.

“Did he tell you much about his history?” she asks gently.

I bite my lip and glance down at him. Javi’s still out cold, barely even breathing. My chest aches.

“I don’t actually know him that well,” I whisper. “But I want to.”

Please wake up so you can tell me all your stories.

Suyin nods, already turning toward the cabinet. “I have something for this,” she says. “Just…give me a second.”

She busies herself in the medicine cabinet and I stay with Javi, idly stroking his fur. Charlotte comes in with hot tea and a muffin and somehow convinces me to sit down and eat while I watch Suyin work. She gets a new syringe and pulls clear fluid into it, then goes back to Javi.

“This was used to help people detox before the Convergence,” she says.

“It will enhance his body’s ability to filter out foreign substances.

Amphoria can be used as a party drug in small doses, but if it’s overused, it’s also a potent neurotoxin, and it makes your body do strange things—your adrenaline and serotonin spike.

We need to bring those levels down, at least so we can get him back to his human form so he’s easier to treat. ”

“I don’t know what that means,” I say.

“All you need to know is that this should help,” she says. “He’s alive and that’s what counts.”

I start to tear up again and swallow a big mouthful of muffin to keep myself from crying.

“Go ahead,” I say.

She puts another needle into his leg and I wince as something twinges in my right arm.

I realize a second later that it’s the bond—a whisper where it was a roar before, but it’s there and that’s what matters.

I reach out to him through our connection, but all I feel is the pain…

then a cool, soothing sensation that runs from my elbow up to my heart.

“I think it’s working,” I say. “I can feel him.”

“Good,” Suyin says. “And if it is, we can…oh!”

She stands back and I get to my feet, my eyes wide.

He’s changing back right in front of us, his muscles clenching and shifting. I’ve never seen someone do this without initiating it themselves, and it’s a little scary to see how much it seems to hurt. But his hand is there, human, his fingers curled and shaking.

I wrap my hand around his.

“Come back, Javi,” I whisper.

He groans…and that’s enough.

“Now we wait,” Suyin says.

I’ve had enough of waiting…waiting for rescue, for a sign that things were going to get better.

But for Javi? I’d wait forever.