Page 53 of Fractured Mates
She doesn’t tell me to stop looking at her permanently, which I take as a win. Even if she rolls over, giving me her back.
Sophie is pissed, and rightly so, but she isn’t cutting me out. Not entirely.
I intend to use that to my advantage just as soon as we’re both healed, have had some food, and maybe even a little rest.
Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sophie
Iwant to be so fucking furious right now. I want to punch Kyler in his handsome face and kick him in the balls again, twice as hard. I want to have never met him.
Yet at the same time, I don’t want to do any of those things.
He knew what I had done—that I had murdered Thane—and he didn’t leave. He didn’t judge me or make me feel as if I were the monster.
Then the bastard gave me chocolate and a sweatshirt that smells like sandalwood…like him.
It’s the mate bond, my wolf reminds me. You can’t hate him. We never even hated Thane. We just loved ourselves more.
Gods, isn’t that the truth. I wouldn’t have felt so much guilt all this time if I hadn’t cared for him as I had.
Now, though? Now, that fucker is becoming more like a faint memory, and the only things I can see when I close my eyes are Kyler’s light-grey eyes, the terror in them when I was bleeding, and the determination on his face to make sure I lived, no matter how much he was hurting at the same time.
I’m not ready to forgive him for not telling me he knew, I say to my wolf, expecting her to argue with me.
You don’t have to be, she says, surprising me. The fact that you didn’t beg me to run away from him is enough for now. We’ve only just found him. There’s plenty of time for forgiveness.
I hope she’s right. With the way those wolves were talking, I have a feeling Astor Crowe is hellbent on making sure my time runs out sooner rather than later.
Astor won’t touch us. She growls loudly within my mind. We’re not the teenager he remembers, and we have Kyler now. He doesn’t need your forgiveness to fight for you.
No, I don’t assume so. He’s too damn perfect for that kind of nonsense.
Almost too perfect.
I want to sleep, I tell her. My body aches and my heart would love it if I let out a loud scream, but since that’s not possible, rest is the only thing I know will solve one of my problems.
With my back still to Kyler, I nestle into my sweatshirt-pillow and take count of my injuries so that I can figure out how quickly things are healing once I’m awake.
My shoulder is the worst, thanks to being stabbed by the guy I’m beginning to assume is somehow related to Astor and Thane. There are bruises along my arms and I’m near certain on my ribs, but none of those feel broken, thankfully. Both legs are sore, but the few bites I had there are already healed.
With my battle wounds cataloged, I clear my mind and pretend the warmth of the heater blowing over me is coming from Kyler instead of the car.
Maybe one day, I murmur to myself as I drift off to sleep.
My eyes burn as they squeeze closed tighter, and my stomach twists painfully, practically shouting at me for food. Yet I’m moving without doing so on my own, making me assume we’re still in the car.
Wait. No. I hear the sound of keys and the movement isn’t smooth.
I open my eyes to find Kyler’s face above mine and my head resting against his chest. He’s carrying me inside the motel room, a pinched expression on his face as he does his best to open the door without waking me.
Like I said earlier: Almost too perfect.
“You can put me down,” I say, my voice scratchy from sleep.
“I’ve got you,” he replies, finally getting the door to open.