Page 14 of The Wolf's Captive

An unbidden smile tugged my lips. My brother had tried to hide my number and failed miserably. Anyone who knew us would have managed to work it out. I had to remember that my brother would fail miserably as a spy in future.

Looking up, I blinked as I watched Zoe trace her hand down the indents on the wooden church door. Speaking to Rochelle had taken me straight back to Brighton, to the pack. And yet, I was still in Paris. Still hiding away from my mate.

“I’ll come back,” I said to Rochelle, smiling when Zoe spun, frowning at me.

Waving away her protest before she could say anything, I turned and looked out into the shadows of the cemetery. My wolf spirit was whining in my mind, desperate to be back within my pack. She had missed them just as much as I had.

“Thank goodness,” Rochelle muttered, “I was getting so frustrated with Malone. He was moody as fuck, always throwing his weight around and brooding.”

“That doesn’t sound like my mate.” The sarcasm lacing my words went ignored.

“Please come home. He misses you. I miss you. We need you back with us.”

A lump came to my throat and my eyes filled again. As much as I loved Zoe, she was a part of another pack. She was my friend, but not my people. I would miss her like mad, but I had to do it. I had to save my man.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I replied, a shudder of excitement rocking me as Rochelle whooped down the phone.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

The phone went dead, and I turned to Zoe, a smile plastered on my face. She stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes wide and unblinking.

“What is it?” I said, my forehead creasing in confusion.

“I hate to say it,” she said, concern pinching the corners of her mouth, “but I don’t think Louis, our alpha, will let you leave so easily.”

“Why?”

Fear made me stay still, watching my new friend. Why would she say such a thing? I’d been to one wolf party for like, ten seconds… That hadn’t meant anything.

“Because,” she said, cringing, “I may have persuaded him to accept you as an honourable member of our pack. He agreed last night, instructing that I bring you to him tomorrow.”

“Okay, I appreciate the sentiment.” Shrugging, I ran a hand through my hair. “However, you can just tell him that I’ve gone home. No harm done.”

Wringing her hands in front of her, Zoe licked her glossy lips. “It’s not as easy as that. Once my alpha claims something, he doesn’t let it go. Ever.”

Chapter Five

Unlocking the apartment door the following morning, I quickly pushed my way into the hall and shut it fast behind me. I heaved a sigh of relief as I skipped down the concrete steps and slipped past the heavy navy curtain that stopped the heat from escaping the small basement apartment.

“Oh, Bohdi,” I mumbled, “I miss hearing your meow, buddy. I know you can probably hear me, so I’m just going to say… what the fuck do I do?”

Not expecting an answer, I stayed still, staring at the small bed pushed into the corner and the three cupboards that made up the kitchen. Yeah, studio apartment was being too kind to the shoebox living space.

I’d made it as comfy as I could with rugs, throws and pillows, but it was still dingy and dark. I wouldn’t miss the place, I had to admit.

Ah, I’d thought in past tense. Which meant I’d made up my mind about what I was going to do. Malone was my heart, my fucking soulmate. I’d come away because I couldn’t bear to see the pain and disgust in his eyes, but what if Zoe had been right. What if Malone had just needed time?

The idea that he was shut in a cell somewhere made my stomach roll. How dare they keep him because I went AWOL? That wasn’t fair.

I’d have to go and rescue him. Ha. Imagine that. The witch hybrid rescuing the alpha of the Brighton Pack. It would at least give me bragging rights for the next year. That was if Malone didn’t cut me off and reject me right back.

A pang gripped me as the image of him came into my mind. His ripped abs and taunt pecs. Ah, I’d do anything to run my hands down the ridges of his stomach. He was just a delicious man, inside and out.

Picking up my phone, I regretfully dialled Victor Roberts. He answered within two rings, his greeting sharp and short. “Yes, Della?”

“I can’t do it,” I replied, being as direct as him. “I have to go back to England so I won’t have time. I don’t even know what sort of state the Brighton Pack is in since I left.”

His sigh was tinged with sadness. “Well, if you get back and see an opportunity, the offer to help is still there. I’m a reasonable man, you just need to get me in to talk to them. I’ll then perform the ritual. Good luck.”