Samuel straightened and rolled his neck muscles, forcing out reassuring vibes until the lingering Ferwyn relaxed. “I’m good. But I swear I’m gonna kill him one of these days—prince or not.”
“I’m in.”
“No, you’re not.” He shook his head, completely serious. “Someone’s gotta lead the pack after I’m executed for treason.”
“Well, shit.”
Grinning at Tucker’s beleaguered expression, Samuel felt like his temper was under control and entered his suite.
The open-concept layout was identical to Abby’s apartment except bigger, decorated with heavier pieces of furniture and masculine fabrics in varying shades of brown and gray.
Regan looked up at his entrance. Her dark hair in a sloppy ponytail, legs curled under her on the oversized leather sectional. The glow from the healer’s cellphone and a small lamp near the couch were the only illumination in his generous quarters.
“How is she?” He shut the door quietly behind him, removed his boots, and padded to where Abby lay huddled beneath mounds of covers, her slight frame swamped in his big bed. Her skin was too pale, but her chest rose and fell comfortably in the Anwyll-induced sleep Regan cast at his insistence.
“She seems to be recovering quickly.” The healer’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. Regan’s mouth tightened into a straight line in response to whatever she read. Sending a quick text, she silenced the device and slid it into the medical bag sitting on the wooden coffee table.
Samuel frowned as he swept the hair from Abby’s face. “She’s still bruised.”
Regan slipped into her sandals, hoisting the strap of the heavy-looking pouch on her shoulder. “I believe it’s her particular genetics, whatever they may be…”
She cocked her head and waited expectantly. The Anwyll had treated Abby three times now and knew she wasn’t dealing with a human. Though Regan never pushed for an explanation, her curiosity was apparent. When he didn’t comment, she sighed in disappointment.
“Abby’s physiology seems to prioritize healing, her body’s energy focusing on the severest injuries first, then moving to any secondary or surface damage. Her jaw is fine, by the way, and the facial discoloration should disappear in the next day or two at most. I managed to fully heal her ribs before she decided I was too tired to continue and refused further treatment. Vehemently, I might add. Since she was already exhausted and you were in the shower, I let it slide. If you haven’t figured it out yet, that girl has a stubborn streak a country mile wide.”
The Anwyll didn’t understand the half of it. Abby might appear fragile on the outside, but underneath her infinitely feminine shell was a will of iron—and a heart braver than his fiercest warriors.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her.” She glanced at Abby fondly, obviously taken a liking to her patient. “Will she be here or in her own room?”
“Here,” he stated firmly.
“Right.” Regan couldn’t hide her grin. “See you then, commander.”
Unable to be this close to Abby and not touch her, Samuel captured a white silken lock laying on her undamaged cheek and rubbed it between his fingers. There were dozens of the lighter strands mingled throughout the natural honey-gold length.
Abby’s lids fluttered. “Samuel?”
“Hey.” He ran a knuckle from her temple to her chin. “How are you feeling?”
She blinked and sat up. Dragging the comforter in her wake, she scooted until her shoulders hit the dark wooden headboard, a scowl marring her pixie features. She primly adjusted the heavy duvet around her hips, and Samuel resisted the urge to laugh, aware of the source of her irritation.
Beneath those thick, protective layers, she wore his t-shirt—and nothing else.
Before leaving for the disastrous meeting with the prince, he argued with Abby about returning to her own apartment to recuperate—she lost that battle. Samuel needed her drenched in his scent, secure in his space, and tucked in his bed. His halfblood was inherently modest, and although he preferred her naked, he offered his shirt as a generous compromise. She hadn’t seemed appreciative of the gesture if stomping into the bathroom with the dark cotton wadded in her hands, mumbling “stubborn Ferwyn” and “stupid príoh” were any indications.
“I’m okay…really. But I need to tell you something, and I’m afraid to.”
Samuel amusement vanished at the trepidation in her voice. He sat near her covered thigh and cupped the side of her neck. Using his thumb as a hinge he lifted her chin.
“You can tell me anything, Abby. Anything at all.”
Her eyes skittered to a point somewhere over his shoulder, took a huge breath and admitted, “My brother is a Jumper.”
“And?” He kept his tone light and easy, sensing there was more to come.
Abby’s startled gaze collided with his. “You knew? Does the prince know?” She twisted the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. Fear for her brother was written on her face. In her scent. “He can’t force him into service, can he? Conlan doesn’t even know I’m here yet. He will go ballistic when I tell him.” Her voice rose in pitch if not volume. “I’m. So. Dead.”
“We suspected, but we’ll worry about his status in the region later. And Abby?” He waited until he had her full attention. “Nobody is harming you…ever.” His thumb moved to skim gently over the pulse beating harshly beneath her jaw, stroking softly. “He works for the director?”
“Yes,” she said, her lashes falling. “And Ambassador Faraday is threatening his life if I don’t spy on the queen for the facility.”
Samuel stilled, every muscle going rock solid. What the actual fuck?
“Tell me everything.” The words were forced through a jaw so tightly clenched he thought it might crack under the strain. Curtailing his growing anger, he listened while Abby relayed the earlier confrontation with Faraday.
“He knew all about Sean,” she told him, her pain an open sore.
Hating the incredible sorrow in her voice, Samuel pulled her close. She came readily, forehead hitting his sternum. “The facility sent you to protect the senator, not his son. You did your job.”
“But Sean was killed.” Abby released the comforter, fisting the fabric of his shirt instead. “He was just a kid, and I wasn’t strong enough or fast enough to stop it from happening. It’s my fault he’s dead.”
“I don’t believe that. His safety wasn’t your responsibility. He was assigned a guard?”
“Yes, but I was too slow to stop the first round of bullets and the agent was shot,” she said, regret seeping from every word spoken. “Sean had no idea I was Fae Touched and tried to protect me. He was trained to fall flat to the ground at the first sign of gunfire. Sean was supposed to drop, Samuel.” Her body trembled beneath his fingers. “He was supposed to drop.”
“You can’t keep blaming yourself. The boy cared about you and didn’t want to see you hurt. Do you think knowing you were a Na’fhuil would’ve changed anything? You’re not bulletproof and could have easily been killed. The kind of heart and bravery he showed should be admired, not questioned. I don’t doubt for a second you did everything in your power to save him.” Abby wouldn’t have given up and probably suffered horribly in the attempt. “Sometimes, duty is all we have to fall back on when forced to make impossible decisions that can change our lives and the lives of others. Doing our duty might be the only thing that makes sense when everything else has gone to shit.
“At twenty I was still considered a kid in the shifter community.” His free hand swept underneath Abby’s shirt, meeting soft, warm skin. “But the pack’s beta, Robert Warren, challenged me to combat knowing my wolf had surpassed him in strength.”
Ferwyn males were born into a natural pecking order. Experience, training, sheer will, and luck could play a part in the outcome of a physical confrontation of two closely matched shifters, but the level of innate dominance was established at birth. Never increasing or decreasing after reaching its zenith at twen
ty-five. Samuel was born the heir apparent, his wolf’s future influence weighed and measured upon his first conversion.
“I didn’t want to fight Robert. I was five years shy of my majority and content to wait to take over his role in our pack.” Maybe even longer. A beta’s responsibilities were almost as heavy as an Alpha’s, but there was no other local Ferwyn who could contest Samuel’s wolf for the position.
“Then why did he do it?”
“Duty. Honesty. And a helluva lot of pride,” he told her regretfully. “Robert wanted to be the Walker beta in truth. He’d always known I would usurp his authority and replace him at our Alpha’s side someday, but my sire and I weren’t pushing for him to abdicate. He could have kept silent. Ignored the shift in power when it happened and stepped down when I was older.”
“But he didn’t and you fought?”
“I had to accept the challenge once it was made.” He continued to rub the small of her back in lazy circles, his other hand sliding from the side of her neck into the hair at her nape. “I won.”
“Of course, you did,” Abby said without a moment’s thought.
“I did.” Samuel smiled at her affronted tone, as though no other result was even possible. “And Robert ended up going to Knoxville and became an Alpha there. The Warren Pack is one of Clan Walker’s fiercest.”
“That’s not the same as being responsible for someone’s death.”
“I’ve killed.” He made the confession on a drawn-out sigh. “I accepted the position of commander knowing it wouldn’t be easily accepted in shifter circles. Príoh McVane had ruled this territory for a long time and wasn’t ready for a young upstart wolf to usurp his power over the ESC packs. Becoming the Guard’s commander placed me above him under regional law but not under Ferwyn hierarchy edicts. I permanently maimed two challengers and killed McVane to earn that status.” Damn the old wolf for his stubborn pride. “He wouldn’t yield. Refused to stop fighting. He was bleeding out, hind leg hanging by a tendon and he still wouldn’t submit.”
Abby’s arms snaked around his midsection in a supportive hug. “It sounds like you didn’t have much choice.”
“We always have a choice, even if the other options aren’t good ones. I could have refused Rose’s request to lead the Guard. If McVane conceded obedience in matters solely concerning the region, I would have been happy for him to remain our Clan’s príoh. Sean might be alive today if he’d thought of himself first. But I didn’t walk away from what I felt was the right thing to do. And neither did they. Knowing I fulfilled my duty grants me the peace to live with what I’ve done. What I chose to do. You protected the senator and did your best to save his son. It has to be enough.”
Abby was silent, and Samuel didn’t push her, letting her process all he’d said.
“I’m scared for Conlan. I have to warn him about Faraday, but our next planned call isn’t for another week. If I break protocol, he won’t answer, thinking I’ve been compromised. He’ll come running and tip off his handlers.” She slowly exhaled. “But even if I’d agreed to spy on the queen, the director would never allow me to stay on the island indefinitely. I’m going to have to return to the facility…or run again if I can convince the queen to let me go.”
Samuel tensed, his entire body locking at the declaration. “No.”
“But—”
Fisting a handful of her hair, he tilted her head, turning her face up to his. “No, darlin’.” He dropped his lips to her cheek, skating them across the remaining smudges on her skin until his mouth reached her ear. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ve just found you.” And no way in hell was he letting her go.
He planned on giving Abby more time to accept what it meant to mate with a Ferwyn male before placing the first Mark on her. But between the attempted kidnapping and Faraday’s threats, the option to wait was gone. The prince was right—claiming her as his own was the only way to ensure he could always find her. Whether she was taken from him by force or felt there was no other option but to run, he wouldn’t risk her safety or chance losing her.
“Do you trust me to protect you?”
“The director won’t—”
“Do you?”
“But Conlan—”
“Abby,” Samuel interrupted sharply, pulling away and demanding her complete attention. “I will protect you always. I will guard your heart and those who are dear to it.” Ferwyn vows. Pledges he would give to his Ca’anam. But he was giving them now and meaning every damn word.
He caught the sour smell of fear rolling off her skin, and his anger spiked. No matter what else happened, he would destroy Faraday. And while he was at it, the mysterious director was next on his shit list.
Samuel watched conflicting emotions flit across her expressive face and willed her to believe in him. Her hesitation was a punch to the solar plexus. His wolf’s distress at her indecision was palpable in the way his fangs pressed for release, his fingertips stinging. Every base instinct screamed for him to take what he wanted. That he was the Clan príoh and this female was meant to be his.
He breathed in through his nose, keeping a firm grasp on his human form. He noted every subtle change in Abby’s scent as he inhaled, his nostrils flaring, teeth grinding in impatience. When her familiar floral aroma replaced the vinegary smell lacing the air, he almost groaned in relief.
Thank, fuck.
“Okay,” she relented on a quivery breath. Her large eyes filled with a faith in him that appeased his burgeoning beast.
“Okay,” he echoed.
Protectiveness welled deep within his chest, swirling to touch every part of him, imprinting on Samuel’s heart so powerfully it would never be erased. Lowering his lips to hers, he stopped just short of contact.
“I’m Marking you tonight. Do you understand why?”
Abby’s eyes closed, dark lashes sweeping the tops of her cheeks. “It will help keep my identity a secret. Other Ferwyn males will keep their distance once I’m bitten.”
“They damn well better,” he growled. “But that’s not why.”
Her eyes snapped open. “It’s not?”
“No.” Blood pounding in his ears, Samuel brushed her sexy cupid’s bow, then licked at her generous bottom lip. “It’s because I want you so badly I can’t wait another second to make you mine.”
“But, the Mark is temporary. Right?” She pulled her wet lip between her teeth.
God, he loved her mouth.
“Yes.” And it was, but Samuel didn’t plan on letting it fade anytime soon. If ever.
“Okay,” she said quietly, her body going pliant.
A well of emotions clogged his throat at her consent. As he devoured her with lips and tongue, Abby’s hands inched up his torso, her fingertips landing on the curve of his jaw in a butterfly touch so soft it made him shiver with lust and longing.
Sliding his rough palm up her slender back, he lowered her to the mattress. With his mouth slanting hotly over hers, and Abby’s frantic heartbeat keeping time with his own, he followed her down.
He needed to taste her skin more than he needed his next breath. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he pulled at the silken strands roped around his knuckles. Her neck and shoulders gave into the gentle encouragement, bowing off the pillow.
His gums burned at the sight of the submissive posture, and his cock became uncomfortably hard, pressing urgently against his zipper. Samuel ignored his growing need, determined to savor their first time together. Dipping to the delicate column of her throat, he scraped relatively human teeth over the vulnerable tendon running alongside her neck.
Her wildflower scent surrounded him, burrowing into his skin, infusing his blood. It permeated his very bones. The heady musk of arousal and her unique fragrance blended together to drive his wolf mad with the desire to claim her.
Releasing her hair, he pushed off the bed until he was on his knees, straddling Abby’s hips. He reached between his shoulder blades and removed his shirt, tossing it to the floor.
“I need to see you.” He craved it.
A blush stole across Abby’s cheeks, but she raised her arms timidly above her head, met his eyes, and waited.
A primal sound only an animal could make emanated from his vocal cords as
Samuel gathered the hem and dragged it up her slim body as slowly as his raging need allowed. When he drew the last of the material away, he lost his breath.
“So beautiful,” he choked out. “Absolutely perfect.”
The yellow glow of his wolf vision followed his calloused fingers as they moved in an almost reverent caress from the outside of her toned thigh to the flare of her hip, skimmed over her quivering stomach, and slid past her trim waistline. His hand flattened between her small, high breasts. He was enthralled by the manic beat of her heart underneath his rough palm. He lingered there a moment before returning to her throat, circling it gently—possessively.
“Beautiful,” he repeated, leaning over to take her mouth in another searing kiss, careful not to crush her.
Relishing her bare flesh against his, he cupped her breast, molding its softness while rubbing the peak with his thumb until it stiffened.
Abby inhaled sharply at his touch. Her passionate response to his light stroking had Samuel’s abdominal muscles clenching and his erection lengthening in anticipation.
He shifted off the bed without losing her mouth, undid his pants, and shoved them down his legs. Free from his clothing, he maneuvered between her thighs, making room with his hips. He grunted into her mouth, his throbbing arousal pressing into the concave of her belly in near painful pleasure. As he gave her some of his weight, the tips of her breasts grazed his chest.
Abby moaned sweetly into his throat.
He consumed the sound, the delectable vibration racing along his spine, igniting a fire in his gut.
His hungry mouth slid to her jaw, bit the underside of her chin, and tasted the edge of her collarbone. Scraping her smooth skin with his whiskered jaw, he traveled to her breast, his lips latching onto a dusky nipple.
Fae Touched (Fae Touched Book 1): Paranormal Romance Page 19
