Rebecca Royce: Angel’s Wolf

Sitting down next to her, he placed the ice pack against her bump. She hissed, opening her eyes to look at him.

For a second, he let himself get lost in the depths of her dark eyes. If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, and he’d read that about a million times in all sorts of places, then Angel’s soul was calm and soothing to his senses. He took a deep breath, inhaling her further inside of him.

How was it possible she could be his mate? She was lovely; there was no other word to describe it. She had classical features; Rembrandt would have wanted to paint her. Her dainty nose sat perfectly on her face between the darkness of her eyes. High cheekbones framed an oval outline with olive skin he wanted to reach out and stroke.

He blinked at that thought. What the hell was wrong with him?

She’s your mate .

He could have glared at his wolf. Even more reason to stay away .

“Thank you for the ice.” She put her hand over his and held the ice pack, and his hand, against her skin.

All he wanted to do was jump up and run away. He could feel the need to move crawling up his spine. He knew the feeling too well and if he’d let himself, he would have been out the door by now.

Still, Angel’s hand was like an anchor. He physically couldn’t get up as long as her hand held him still.

Whatever else mating was, it obviously made you crazy.

“Nancy said there’s nothing wrong with you, just that you don’t speak.”

He swallowed. Yes, he could speak but at the moment he couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. Not one darn thing.

She smiled. “She thinks you suffered some kind of trauma.” Angel took his other hand in hers.

He looked down at their entwined hands. His fingers were so much bigger than hers were. He dwarfed her in every way possible.

And he could hurt her.

She continued to speak. “I don’t think it’s a trauma. I think it’s a magic problem.”

A magic problem?

His face must have shown his confusion because she laughed. “Okay, I’ll back up.

Do you know, that is to say, are you aware you are…different?”

Was she asking if he knew he was a wolf? He raised an eyebrow at her question. She might have missed the show earlier when he took out his furry half but to answer her question, yes, he was more than aware.

“Could you at least nod or shake your head?”

It had been so long since he’d replied to anyone or, maybe he needed to amend, since anyone had expected him to, he’d obviously gotten out of practice. To do what she wanted, he nodded his head.

He had to admit, it was nice to be communicating again. Maybe he should speak…

“Okay, so you know you’re a wolf.” She smiled. “Then you know I am too, and I think you get the same sense I do that we are…connected.”

That reminder was all he needed. He kept this distance in order to keep everyone safe. He’d seen it. He knew what could happen. His father had torn into his mother like she was nothing more than a feather pillow. He could still hear her screams in the middle of the night.

“Your whole face just fell. What are you thinking about? You did know you were a wolf, didn’t you? Oh god, I didn’t let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, did I?”

Her complexion went paler and he hoped it was from her misplaced worry rather than her injury.

“Well, I hope you knew.” She glanced down at the bed. “The thing is I’m really good at magic. I mean really, really good. And I think I can help you. You saved my life.” She rubbed her nose. “I can make whatever magic is doing this to you go away.”

Magic? He didn’t think this was a magic thing. It was a conscious decision he’d made to stop speaking.

His heart pound hard.

Wasn’t it?

His wolf stayed remarkable silent on the subject. He could talk. He knew he could.

He opened his mouth to tell her so and nothing came out. Grabbing his throat, like he could make his vocal cords work, he tried again. Nothing.

Standing up he moved around the room. This was unacceptable. Did his voice box— what?—Atrophy from non-use? He could still make growling noises.

To prove it, he made the noise in the base of his throat. Sure enough, it worked.

There, that was evidence. He could talk if he wanted to.

Opening his mouth, he gave it a good try.

Nothing.

He whirled around to stare at Angel. She jumped off the bed, faster than she should have considering her injury, and grabbed him by the arms.

“I know. I get it. I’m not sure how I know, maybe it’s the mating thing, but I’m sure you didn’t know right until this moment you couldn’t speak.” She squeezed his arm muscle with her hand not holding the ice. “I’m going to help you. My wolf is a powerful magic wielder. One way or another, before I leave, I will get you speaking. You have my word on it.”

He nodded as he swallowed hard. He’d like to think the stress forming in his gut was from the very real fact that he physically could not utter a word. But, he had a feeling it was more about the idea that Angel would some day leave.

Even if it was the best thing. For both of them.

Angel sat quietly, chewing on her bottom lip, as she watched Parker make a bed on the floor, presumably for her to sleep on. She could go back to her motel but after having woken up to Julian and Houston wielding a club at her head in that particular location, she preferred not to. Yes, Parker’s floor would work out very well for her.

Besides, it would give her more time to mull over exactly what she was going to do about Parker’s magic problem. She had promised him she could fix it and now she needed to figure out how she was going to do that. Staying close to him might inspire a solution faster than being out on her own.

Or, at least she hoped it would.

She’d been told her whole life she was special and not necessarily in a good way.

Growing up, the women of the New Orleans pack who had raised her, each taking a turn handling her, had loved to tell her the story of the Kane family and the way their wolf pack had turned on their mated women. She shivered at the thought.

If the stories were to be believed, her six brothers still roamed around their island in Maine looking for more women to butcher. So she certainly couldn’t take Parker there for help. A bunch of raving wolves were not going to be able to work magic on him.

Returning to New Orleans wasn’t an option either. She’d had to flee to get away from Cole and Zack battling for control of the pack. Besides, the women there had never been as powerful as she was.

It wasn’t bragging, it was fact. Right or wrong, the heritage she’d received from her lunatic family was an incredible amount of magical strength.

She stood. That meant she was going to have to handle this on her own. She rubbed her eyes trying to stay awake. It might take her a few days to get a handle on this problem but she would figure it out eventually. Then she could leave with a clear conscience knowing that just because she didn’t want to mate ever—no way was she giving someone that much power over her—she’d left the poor guy in better shape than she’d found him.

And if she got to look at the hard line of his chest and the strong muscles in his arms then she would think herself a lucky woman. She smiled at the thought. Her attraction to him amazed her. She’d never had the slightest interest in men before now. Shrugging, she chalked it up to the mating thing.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to want men who weren’t her mate. Of course, in New Orleans there had been lots of male shifters who had wanted her…

She walked closer to him. The outline of his tattooed arms was visible to her. She would really need to be on top of him to see them closely but she thought one of them looked like some kind of bird.