N. Walters - Finding Chrissten

He was dangerous to her. He could make her forget her purpose, her promise to herself. She wasn’t free to be with anyone. And even if she managed to find Brian and kill him, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to be with another male again, didn’t think she could trust another male enough to bind herself to him for a lifetime. Hank deserved more than she could give him. She was damaged, physically, mentally and emotionally.

“Stop worrying about everything. All you need to be concerned about is getting well.” Hank stood and glanced at the doorway. “You get dressed and come on downstairs. I’ll find you a quiet table and you can enjoy the music and have something to eat.”

Normalcy. That’s what she needed.

Her heart pounded at the thought of leaving this room. Oh God, she was scared. She was nothing but a coward. It would be so easy to stay here, to allow others to take care of her.

Time to find her backbone. She’d never been the type to sit back and let others take over. If she had been, her twin would have walked all over her. She’d always been tough and independent. Time to find that part of her again.

She prayed she hadn’t allowed Brian and Dr. Morton to beat it out of her.

She swallowed back the lump of fear that threatened to clog her throat. She could manage to go downstairs to the bar. She’d be surrounded by a pack of werewolves who had taken her in as one of their own. Her twin would be there as well, and she knew he’d protect her with his life.

The deciding factor was that she knew Hank would be there. She wanted to spend time with him, watch him work, be with him any way she could.

“I’d like that.”

He smiled. “Good.” He turned toward the doorway. “And here’s Bethany to help you get dressed.” He nodded at the other woman. “Come on downstairs when you’re ready. There’s a folk duo playing later tonight. Nice and relaxing.”

He left her sitting there, her lips tingling and her thoughts a tangle.

Bethany came over the bed and sat down next to her. “How are you doing?” Bethany was the only person here who understood what she was going through, and even she had no idea exactly what Chrissten had endured. Bethany hadn’t been claimed or raped or held for months and months on end, being poked and prodded and tested hour after hour. She’d endured a mere two weeks of confinement and testing. No one could truly understand what she was feeling. She wasn’t sure she understood and she’d lived it.

Chrissten shook her head. “I have no idea.” And she honestly didn’t. Her emotions were yo-yoing all over the place. In the past few minutes she’d felt everything from aroused to scared to determined to angry to happy and everything in between. It was exhausting.

Bethany patted her leg. “It will get better in time. All that matters is you’re safe here.”

For now . The words went unspoken even though they echoed silently in the air around them. Chrissten knew it wouldn’t last. Brian was out there somewhere searching for her. Not because he loved her or cared for her, but because, in his opinion, she belonged to him.

Screw him. She was going to get dressed and have a wonderful evening. She dug into the box and came up with a pair of faded jeans. They’d probably be too big for her but a belt would fix that. She’d wear the blue sweater with it.

She turned to Bethany. “See if you can find me some shoes.”

Chrissten sat at a table for two just beyond the bar. The corner was quiet, or as quiet as a bar could get. The music was soft and mellow, the ambiance congenial. Haven was crowded, but the clientele was relaxed and enjoying themselves. This was a classy place. No rowdy drunks here. And if a problem arose she knew one of the men would take care of it immediately with little fuss.

Hank was working the door and she had a perfect view of him as he spoke to patrons entering and leaving the establishment. He looked right at home there. But he was watchful. Vigilant. His eyes were constantly moving, searching for any hidden danger. It seemed to be second nature to him.

She admired the way his jeans clung to his thick thighs and perfect butt. The material of his dark T-shirt strained at the shoulders and clung to his biceps. And she wasn’t the only female who noticed. A low growl emanated from her chest before she could stop it. The noise startled her. She was jealous. Which was absurd. Hank didn’t belong to her. She had a mate. She had no claim on Hank at all.

Hank’s head whipped around the second she growled. She wanted to look away but his laser gaze snared her. Her skin began to heat under his perusal. Her nipples beaded against her bra and Chrissten was glad she’d worn a sweater, which would hide her aroused state. Her pants were too constricting and she wanted to squirm to try to alleviate the ache between her thighs.

She couldn’t believe she was getting aroused in a public place and all because Hank stared at her. This was crazy.

She managed, with some difficulty, to pull her gaze away and study the club. Michael and Benjamin were both pouring drinks behind the dark oak bar that spanned one wall. They were both tall, handsome males. Michael was laughing at something one of the waitresses said to him as he filled her drink order. Benjamin was chatting with several men who sat at the far end of the bar. They both appeared to enjoy their work. She liked them both but felt nothing beyond friendship for them.

Isaiah worked his way around Haven, moving from table to table, keeping an eye on everything and everyone while Neema and the other waitresses served drinks and food. Kevin was in the office with Craig and Teague was working his culinary magic in the kitchen.

Bethany and Quinn had disappeared for the past hour. Chrissten didn’t want to think about what they were most likely doing upstairs.

And there it was again. The image of two people making love popped into her head, but it wasn’t her brother and his mate she pictured. No, it was her and Hank. Both of them naked, their limbs entwined.

Once again her gaze was drawn to the front entrance and the male standing there. She propped her chin on her hands and sighed. He really was fine. It didn’t hurt to look even though she knew she couldn’t have him.

“Thought you could use this.”

Reluctantly, Chrissten let her gaze leave Hank and settle on Meredith as she slid into the empty seat alongside her. When she saw what Meredith had brought her, she smiled and reached out for it. The tall glass was cold, the concoction inside thick and smooth. “A vanilla milkshake.” She sipped from the straw, savoring the cool, sweet taste. “That is so good. Thank you.”

Meredith smiled. “My pleasure. There’s more where that came from. Teague whipped it up just for you.”

Once again she was reminded of how much this pack, these people she hadn’t known just days before, were willing to do for her. “I’ll have to thank him later.”

“He’d like that.” Meredith traced a finger over the stack of napkins she’d brought with the milkshake. Chrissten got the sense she was nervous, which wasn’t like the older woman at all. No, not nervous. That wasn’t quite right. It was more like she wanted to tell Chrissten something but didn’t know how. She was uncomfortable. Yes, that was it.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Her stomach tightened and the tasty milkshake congealed into a cold mass in her belly. She pushed the glass away, her pleasure in the treat gone.

“Nothing is wrong, not really.”

As if sensing his mate’s distress, Isaiah prowled alongside the table and rested his hand on Meredith’s shoulder, silently offering her his support. She reached behind her and touched his hand.