Chapter 5

"It was you." His voice came out low. Almost wondering. Almost cruel.

My face went white. I yanked the torn fabric together over my hip. My fingers shook. I couldn't speak. There was nothing to say.

Ethan's laugh dropped off. He grabbed my wrist and flipped me around. My palms hit the wall. Then the mirror — he turned me into the mirror above the console. He stood behind me and forced my chin up with two fingers.

"When were you going to tell me, Milo."

"The next time I saw you." I heard my own voice from far away. I tried to keep it flippant. It came out dry.

"The next time." He repeated it like he was tasting it. His other hand slid around my ribs. His breath was at my ear. "You carried a pup. My pup. Four years." He exhaled. "I must be stronger than I thought."

"Let go of me."

"No."

He pressed me down onto the mattress. I didn't have the strength. I couldn't even get an arm under me to push up. Omega instincts betrayed me — my body remembered him from four years ago, and the old Mark under my ribs, faded but never closed, flared hot the moment his skin dragged against mine. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I would not moan. I would not beg.

Ethan's hand shook a little when he peeled the shirt off me. That was the only kindness. Then the shake was gone and there was only him.

He was not gentle.

He pinned my wrists to the headboard and Marked me again — low at the curve of my throat, right over the old Mate-scent gland that had gone silent when I fled. Pain bloomed white-hot. I jerked. He held me. He didn't stop. He bit me again at the shoulder, at the soft flesh over my collarbone, at the tender skin just inside my hip where the silver scar lived. Every bite said one thing. Mine. Mine. Mine.

"Ethan — please —"

"Don't run this time."

"I won't run —"

"You've been running for four years."

I couldn't answer that. He drove me until I couldn't see. Until there was no breath left to argue with. Until my hands went slack above my head and my eyes rolled toward the ceiling and I gave up.

I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember dawn coming.

When I opened my eyes again the light was grey. My throat was raw. My lips were split. Every muscle in my back hurt. My thighs shook when I shifted. Ethan was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had a glass of water in one hand. He was watching me like a man holding something breakable.

"Here."

He slid his arm under my shoulders and lifted me up against his chest. He tilted the glass to my mouth. I sipped because my throat needed it. His free hand combed my hair back from my forehead, careful, almost clumsy. He had never been clumsy.

I couldn't find the energy to flinch away.

He set the glass down. He pulled the blanket up over my shoulder. He didn't try to kiss me. He didn't say anything else. He just sat there with his hand on the back of my neck and let me breathe.

I closed my eyes. That was easier than looking at him.

"You're mine, Milo."

I pretended I hadn't heard it.

"I'll come get Theo from the Academy on Thursday."

I opened my eyes. "No."

"I'm his father."

"You don't get to choose now."

He took my chin again. He turned my face to him. "I've been choosing. You took the choice away." There was no anger in his voice. That was worse. "I'll be careful with him. I'll be careful with you. I'll fix what I broke." He paused. "But I'm not letting either of you go again."

I shut my eyes. The tears that slid down were pure exhaustion. Not grief. I was too tired for grief.

At some point I slept again. When I woke, he had dressed me in one of his shirts. The fabric was soft and smelled like Alpha. I hated how my body relaxed into it. I hated how safe it felt.

By the time I made it home, Theo was already back from his playdate with my mother. He climbed onto the couch next to me, his round cheek pressed to my arm. He smelled of warm milk and something citrus.

"Daddy, where did you go?"

"Work, pup."

"Your neck."

Theo touched the side of my throat with one careful finger. His little nose twitched — already more of a wolf than I wanted to admit. He frowned.

"It's okay, pup."

"It smells like the Fry Uncle from the Academy."

My blood stopped.

Theo blinked up at me with round black eyes. The same black eyes I had last seen bearing down on me through a silver-burn scar. He was four years old. He didn't understand what he had just said.

"Daddy?"

I pulled him against my chest. I held him tight. I buried my face in his curls.

"Don't worry, pup. Nothing bad." I kissed the top of his head. "Daddy just needs to be careful now."

Because Ethan Blackwood had found us both.