Isis: The E6 Breeder (Lycan Breeder Series Book No. 2)

Scene 43

Fresh air displaced the putrid accumulation of scent lining his nose and throat. The crisp night pumped in and out of his lungs, clearing his system of the contamination he had exposed them to.

Keeping his tight grip on the thick leather pinched between his fingers, he steadied his movement allowing his partner to fall into a more comfortable cadence. Her stumbling eased and her breathing evened out with the gap he created between her throat and her restraint.

"Can you walk?" He gritted, not risking looking back at her.

The silence behind him haunted his conscience. No one else in there touched her. Any and all injuries are from him, from his hands, from his...

In a fluid motion, he spun and scooped her up. Initially stunned, she quickly released all tension. Her calves swung on the outside of his embrace, her shoulders slumped, the side of her perfect face buried against his chest.

His legs propelled them up the boardwalk. A hollow thud vibrated across the planks with every footstep. He was moving fast rescuing her from and escaping that room.

The dam was bursting, and a low whine escaped the lips pressed against him. A single sob burst out and then her chest constricted, holding the flood back.

"Let it out," Emanuel whispered. "Breathe." The crashing of his boots beneath them mismatched against the softness of his plea.

Rebecca's fingers curled around a handful of his shirt and rapid-fire sobs shook her body. Saltwater tears scented the air followed by sniffling. He kept his arms taunt so she could fall apart safely on their way back to their cabin. His cabin.

He carried her into the cabin and up the ladder, only releasing her to the comfort of the bed. Helplessly kneeling next to her, he watched as her breathing deepened and the tears slowed down. Her palm swiped across her mouth, collecting snot and sweat. Her skin was drying up but her face stayed red and puffy.

The silver cuff lightly clicked when she popped it open and removed it from her wrist. Her power started returning, coating her in magic and comfort. Yes. She should reach out to Derek, her packmate and partner. Of course, she'll want to talk to him first. She needed strength and familiarity.

And privacy and space.

Removing himself from her immediate vicinity while she was struggling turned out to be more difficult than he expected. He did it. For her he would do anything. In fact, if she said right now this whole thing is over and she wants to go home he would take her and disappear. And wouldn't that be delightful.

Instead of facing towards her usual target of his look-out spot, her eyes zoned out in the direction of the hardware piled at the foot of the bed. If he were to run away and return her to the safety of her pack, those chains would be used again. She is here, with her defiantly stubborn attitude, with her skills and dedication, with her drive, to prevent anyone else from going through what she went through tonight.

She didn't have to tell him. He could feel it. In her strengthening pose, in her resolute posture. This was traumatic and the only salvation for both of them was to keep it from happening again.

Her focus returned and her head snapped in his direction. Something is off and he tilted his head, silently inquiring about her conversation.

"Please, sir," a soft voice begs him. "I have been good and you said that you would take me outside and let my feet touch the ground."

His lower lip parted from the upper. This scenario was not discussed. She was speaking in a code they hadn't rehearsed.

"It'll help me heal, too. I'll be more enjoyable for you," Rebecca continued.