Chapter 98
Chapter 98
Chapter Ninety-Eight
The car isn’t much safer than the cabin, but it’s a lot more pleasant.
Eric steers the truck a few dozen yards away from the cabin, deeper into the trees.
I rifle through the supplies, hoping there’s something warmer in there than the coat. Without the heat on
in the truck, a parka isn’t going to cut it.
There are two sleeping bags--decent ones. I toss one to Eric and take the other for myself.
In the passenger seat, I kick my boots off and shove my feet into the bottom of the sleeping bag. I
wriggle it up over my hips, and then recline the seat as far as it goes and pull the bag up to my
shoulders.
Eric tries to do the same, but his size is a problem. He can’t maneuver into the bag with the car door
closed. The steering wheel is in the way, and his shoulders and knees knock against the side of the
car.
With a frustrated growl, he flings his door open so he has more room to work.
Precious heat seeps out of the car, but I keep my mouth shut.
Enclosed in the car together, there should be enough warmth to get us through the night. We just have
to get through the night.
Finally, Eric shuts his door again, the motion bringing an icy gust of air across my face. I can’t help
shivering, so I tuck my face into the sleeping bag to disguise the sound of the fabric rustling.
It’s silly to be so self-conscious about being cold. Eric knows I don’t have my wolf. But it’s
embarrassing.
And it’s a reminder of the worst time of my life.
I’ve come a long way since then.
I am not the broken, defeated girl I was before. I can stand on my own again, thanks to Philipe.
But I can’t stop shivering.
The minutes tick by and I lose more warmth every second.
“Ashley. If you’re cold, say so,” Eric grumbles from the other side of the truck.
“I’m fine.” Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.
The sound of a zipper rips through the air.
“What are you doing?” I ask, even though I can clearly see what’s happening.
Eric has unzipped his sleeping bag, and now he’s stripping off his clothes.
“I’m keeping you alive. Unzip your bag,” he says tersely.
I stare at him, dumbfounded. He sighs, exasperated, and reaches over to unzip the sleeping bag. In a
few quick motions, he connects the two and climbs into the passenger seat beside me.
“There’s no room,” I argue, but he ignores me.
He shifts, black and grey fur blocking out everything else. Eric’s wolf is enormous—he takes up every
spare inch inside the truck, blanketing me in his fur.
And his warmth.
I have no room to do anything but nestle against him. Like it or not, the contact brings me comfort and
soon enough, I stop shivering and my eyes drift shut.
ERIC
I wake up too soon.
I’m surprised I managed any sleep at all, given the circumstances.
Or maybe I’m still asleep. I don’t fully trust my ability to distinguish reality from my dreams because
being curled up in a sleeping bag with Ashley McNally is a f*cking nightmare.
The truck is warm enough now that I don’t need to be in my wolf form. Carefully, I shift back and zip the
sleeping bag up. My skin is on fire, but it’s only a matter of time before Ashley’s quivering again, so I
keep her in my arms.
A week ago, I would have let her freeze.
She is the reason my sister is dead.
She decimated my Ravens and brought chaos and destruction into my pack.
She’s the reason I lost Mia.
A whole future got ripped away from me in an instant.
I was on a path, fighting for Mia, fighting to protect my pack from Philipe and his wraiths—and his sister
changed that in a single second.
Ashley’s shoulder jerks, smacking into my chest. I look down at her face, but she’s still asleep.
Her eyelids twitch and her brows pinch together. She’s dreaming.
“Please, no,” she murmurs.
There’s fear in her voice—and her scent. There’s sweat at her hairline. Her heart rate is rapid, and her
limbs are tense against me.
Whatever is happening in her nightmare is scaring her out of her mind.
I want to be indifferent to her suffering…but I’m not.
I feel it, like it’s living under my skin. Like it’s mine.
In a way it is. Even when she’s separated from her wolf, I’m still bound to her. The connection I felt to
Mia was powerful. I was drawn to her, consumed with thoughts of her—and that was nothing compared
to the bond that’s tying me to Ashley.
Motherfucker, what have I done to deserve a hell like this!?
The moment I saw her on the Blakely Island, it was like a switch got flipped in my head and that was it.
Ashley is my mate, and every instinct in me screams to protect her.
But that switch didn’t turn off my memories.
Just a few weeks ago, I’d told Mia I didn’t care about her past, that her choices and her present were
the only things that mattered to me. I believed that. I still do. I’m just having trouble not caring about
Ashley’s past.
She whimpers in her sleep, and the sound slices through me.
I’ve got a past, too.
I can’t lay the blame for all of this suffering at Ashley’s feet, because I have a hand in it,
Like that Seer said—it’s a circle. Every retaliation and attack sets off another cycle and around and
around we go.
I don't know about her, but I want off this friggin' merry-go-round.
I didn’t have a choice about mating Ashley. It’s the only way we’ll ever find peace. But I have other
choices. I can choose to make this easier for her. For us.
I smooth a hand over her face, catching a stray tear. The touch soothes her. Her next exhale is softer,
less troubled.
“Philipe. You came for me,” she murmurs, still locked in the dream.
A surge of hatred rushes through me and I give her shoulder a rough shove.
She startles awake, the first light of dawn hitting her face through the windshield.
“Time to get moving,” I grunt, turning away.