Ella
I can’t explain it, but for some reason Sinclair’s tender care upsets me more than if he was angry. It’s taken me a while to come back to myself –as the fog of my shock wore off and the utter safety and security of being with Sinclair thawed my frozen senses, I found my emotions slowly returning. Just not the ones I expected.
Do I want him to be angry? I wonder. Why? Because it somehow hurts me that he doesn’t seem to care that I defied him? Because I feel badly for breaking his rules and want to see that they weren’t all for show? Because I’m so angry with myself for what happened tonight, and I feel like I deserve to be punished?
I don’t have the answers to these questions, though on some level I suspect all my theories have a kernel of truth. Either way, I find myself picking an argument, rather than letting him comfort me.
Sinclair sighs, though he still doesn’t release me entirely. “I didn’t want to worry you.” He explains, his handsome features a hard mask. “There’s only been one so far, and you know I’ve been worried about your stress levels.”
“Is that why you were called away the other day?” I inquire, his sudden disappearance from the kitchen making more sense now.
“Yes.” He confirms, “It was horrible honestly. Almost a dozen dead in broad daylight and twice as many injured. They didn’t smell like the same wolves who were in the alley with you tonight, but I’m sure they were hired by the same person.”
“The prince?” I guess , shifting my hold on the ice pack as my fingers gradually go numb.
“That’s right.” Sinclair nods. “I’ve been searching for them ever since, but I think he’s probably protecting them.”
“Will you search for the ones who came after me tonight?” I murmur, not understanding the sudden bloodlust I feel. It must be my maternal instincts responding to the threat against my pup – I’ve never wished anyone dead before, no matter what they’ve done to me, but I want nothing more than for Sinclair to destroy those cruel wolves.
Sinclair nods. “I will hunt them down and tear them to absolute pieces.” He snarls, letting out more of his wolf than I think he intended.
I’m amazed to realize I’m smiling about such a macabre idea. Frankly I’m amazed I can smile about anything so soon after the attack, even if it is a somber grin. Either way the stretch of my lips pulls on my cut, and soon my smile is a grimace of pain. “Ow, ow, ow.”
Sinclair tsks, “poor, vicious, darling.” He croons, resting his forehead against mine and petting my sides.
“Is it terrible that I wish them harm?” I whisper, gazing into his green eyes, mere inches from mine.
“Of course not.” Sinclair promises, smiling himself now, “you really are becoming more like a wolf every day.”
A painful pang blooms in my chest. He seems so pleased every time I do something he considers wolfish. It might just be that he’s happy the pup is growing, but it really feels like he doesn’t approve of my humanity – as if he wants me to be a wolf and will take any scraps of behavior he can get. I’m getting lost in my thoughts now, but Sinclair soon pulls my focus back to him.
Framing my face in his hands but careful to avoid touching my bruise, he prompts, “Would you like to tell me why you snuck out tonight – after everything we went through the other day?”
I peek up at him from beneath my lashes, “Am I in a lot of trouble?”
“Just answer the question, Ella.” He admonishes. Part of me wishes he’d tell me I am in trouble – if I am it means he hasn’t given up on me. But it worries me when he goes stoic and unreadable. His anger I can handle, his grim contemplation makes me fear he might decide I’m not worth the hassle and void our deal - taking the baby from me.
“I just needed a night away from all this.” I share, gesturing to our surroundings. “I needed to feel human again, just for a little while. And I thought it would be fine since we were sticking to human territories and businesses. I didn’t know about the other attack.”
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Who is Elizabeth? Do you mean Isabel, the she-wolf handling the children?...