Wake up in his arms

Inside the bedroom, I brushed my hair nervously. I'd packed a bag and tossed it out the window early enough to ensure Tora had been the one to grab it and hide it with hers. Tomorrow, we'd be leaving this place and escaping the mountain before the first heavy snow hit it, which was forecasted for tomorrow night. I intended to leave before nightfall which excited and terrified me.

I'd never been off the mountain. Harold had forbidden it, which was why my mother hadn't fled this place to bring help to free the pack. Maybe if she hadn't been pregnant with my sister or had me, she would have been bold and run from this place.

Fear was daunting, and the idea of leaving the only home I'd ever known was terrifying. Under the guise of being Saint's mate, living my life here with no power or control was one thing. Living here while he and someone else raised our children? Fuck that noise. I wouldn't be that girl any longer, the one who allowed her life to be controlled by a dictator.

I'd lived that life to protect the pack from Harold's hatred and resentment toward them for not respecting him or his position. The pack had remained here for my mother and then me. Leif had confirmed what I'd suspected. Fenrir would protect the land because my mother's soul had been freed here, and her body placed into the ground. I wasn't the only thing keeping this place blessed by the wolf god.

My father and his devoted followers had lied about it. Little about my father shocked or surprised me. He was a monster, and he'd forced his claim on my mother. He'd seduced her, and then when she refused him, he'd raped her. She had lost the man who had been her soul mate before they'd finished the claim- ing. Then my dad stepped into the picture.

I wouldn't have been shocked if it had been by Harold's design that the young mate to my mother had met an untimely death before he'd been old enough to finish the claiming ceremony. Our people were often either too early or too late to claim their mate. Being immortal, it happened a lot more than it should have.

Toralei had arranged our escape, but to see it through, we'd have to take down my babysitter, whoever the unlucky prick may be on duty tomorrow. I'd packed clothing and a few other essentials that wouldn't be missed in the morning. I was leaving behind this life, along with everything I had built for myself, to start fresh in a new town, in a new country.

The door to the room opened, and I shifted my attention as Saint entered. His eyes searched me out, his scent reaching me before he did. Standing behind me, he watched me brush through my dark hair. He lowered his lips, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head before he smiled.

"I won't have anyone other than us raise our babies, Brat. I'd never allow that to happen." He moved into the bathroom when I didn't respond. “Come shower with me."

"I'm ready for bed," I returned, slowly walking toward the bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes, tossing them into the basket that sat beside the shower. My attention roamed over his body, memorizing every sinful curve of it. I latched onto every tattoo and every rippling cord of muscle that covered him. The scent that was uniquely his held me prisoner. My throat tightened, knowing that to escape him, I'd have to ignore the emotion his presence and scent caused within me.

How ironic was it that the one person I'd prayed to return was the one I was now fleeing?

Saint had come home, but it wasn't because he'd wanted me. It was because he'd wanted to remove me from power along with my father. He'd placed me into the same category of a monster as Harold, even though he had no proof. I'd wanted him to come back and believe that I wasn't involved in what hap- pened to him. How hard was it to look at my deeds and see me for who I was? I got that Saint had been hurt, but I'd suffered longer and harder than any of the others. I'd lived through my father's torture until a year ago when I'd been freed from him. It had been a bloody showdown, and the only reason Harold had stopped was because of who had shown up to defend me.

Since then, I'd been on borrowed time, and every day I waited for my father to murder me or to send me away. I'd planned to take the pack from him, but Saint and his people had shown up, ruining it all. I'd been so close to freedom and bringing down Carlson and my father that I'd tasted it. Carlson wouldn't have left our mating tent alive, and the pack would have backed my plan the moment all hell broke loose.

I didn't even know where half the people had ended up, who were sup- posed to have helped me by storming the ceremony. I had sent the other half down the mountain to follow the trail of a child who had gone missing. That left the rest of us with our new warlords, hell-bent on saving those we'd already started protecting. Had I known he'd sold them? No, because I'd been too busy trying to survive my father, not knowing that his sickness went beyond what he'd done to me.

Maybe I was guilty of not seeing beyond my pain. I'd done the best I could do, and it hadn't been enough. I understood why the pack turned on me, and I couldn't blame them. Our people had gone missing, and I'd believed they'd run away. I'd made excuses, sending people out to search for them. I hadn't looked deeper because it had been women, and they often couldn't handle living away from people. Teenagers ran away; it happened. I'd always assumed they'd just left, never dreaming they'd been sold into slavery. "You look lost tonight, Brat," Saint said, running the towel over his wet body. "Just tired," I lied, turning to escape his presence.

"Did you stop by the infirmary?" he asked, following me into the room. "Jacob said with the full moon coming, you should be fertile and in heat naturally. I'm game to let nature take its course without the drugs."

"Okay," I said, shuffling out of the lace robe to get into bed. Saint paused, tilting his head to watch me sliding beneath the covers.

"What's wrong with you, Brat? Your scent is off, and you seem-beaten."/ "My scent is off because my hormones are screwing with it. The same goes for my mood. You can't mess with a woman's balance and then wonder why she's moody, Saint. That's pretty much common sense."

"Okay." He studied me closely as he shook his wet hair, his attention slid- ing over the covers and to the wall of pillows I'd placed in the center of the bed. "This shit again?"

"You dictated the rules, and I'm following them. Am I not? You get to use me, and then you can do whatever you want alone, afterward. I prefer the great arms." wall of pillows to waking up tangled in your arm

Mostly, I hated waking up in his arms because for a moment before my mind had fully processed what was happening, it felt right. The entire world would settle into place, and his scent would soothe me, offering comfort. But the moment we fully woke, it all went to shit.