Stolen and Forgiven (Branded Packs #1)(70)

“So arrogant,” she teased.

“Determined,” he corrected.

She gave a shake of her head, her expression chiding. “And foolish. You could have been killed.”

He gave a wry smile, glancing around the cramped cell. “I was trying to impress you with my daring rescue,” he told her. “The plan was to rush in, toss you over my shoulder, and take off before the guards realized I was even here. Clearly it didn’t work out.”

She reached for the blanket that she’d left on the cot, gently folding it over his naked body. As if he needed to impress her.

The mere thought was ridiculous.

“Once we’re out of here, I’m going to kick your ass for taking such a risk,” she warned.

Cognac eyes darkened as his fingers drifted down to outline her lips.

“Once we’re out of here, I’m taking you to my bed. You can do whatever you want to my ass,” he promised.

She trembled, easily able to remember holding on to his perfect butt as he surged deep inside of her. Her hand moved to the side of his throat, moving over the collar that she hated before following the line of his shoulder.

“Anything I want?”

“Absolutely.” His gaze slid over her face before lowering to the hideous orange jumpsuit. Instantly, his expression hardened. “Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed as if sensing she wasn’t telling him the full truth.

“I could smell your blood where the bastards attacked you.”

“They shot me with a dart, and I fell from the tree, but that’s it,” she said. “I promise.”

He held her gaze, searching for the truth before giving a slow nod and allowing his muscles to relax.

“Have they told you why they kidnapped you?”

Her stomach clenched. Just for a few moments, her relief that Soren was alive had driven out her terror for her father. Now it returned with a vengeance.

“They want the Alpha of Golden Pack,” she said between clenched teeth.

He nodded, as if he’d already suspected why she’d been taken.

“Why not just grab him?”

She glared toward the door, her cat hissing with fury at the SAU’s disgusting lack of morals.

And they called her an animal.

Jerks.

“Because they intend to force him to create shifters. Something he would have refused to do without them threatening to chop me into little pieces.”

“Those sons of bitches.” He struggled to sit up. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Easy.” She allowed her fingers to skim down his arm, needing to keep him calm. Until his body managed to rid itself of the bullet, he couldn’t fully heal.

The last thing he needed was to become agitated and worsen his injuries.

Perhaps realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to do anything until he’d recovered his strength, Soren sank back onto the floor with a grimace.

“Have they contacted your father?”

“Yes. They forced me to call him.” She sat back on her heels, futilely trying to disguise her seething frustration. “They’re supposed to meet at the Flatirons.”

“When?”

“Midnight.”

Cognac eyes darkened with a grim determination. “Shit. We have to get out of here.”

They did. They had less than an hour to contact her father before he was forced to choose between his daughter and giving into the demands of the SAU.

“We will.” Her gaze moved to the bullet wound that continued to seep blood. “As soon as you’re healed.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, lowering his hand to place it against the cement floor.

“Don’t, Soren,” she pleaded, already knowing he was going to make another attempt to shove himself upright. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Damn.” He squeezed his eyes shut and released a heavy sigh. “This isn’t doing much for my image as a super-hero.”

She brushed a stray curl from his forehead, at the same time ensuring he wasn’t running a fever.

“I don’t need a super-hero,” she assured him.

“What do you need, princess?”

“You.”

“Me?” He opened his eyes, studying her with a raw, aching need that stole her breath. “You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“No more walls?”

“No more walls.”

“Thank God.”

Her fingers lightly traced his brow, her cat purring in satisfaction, even as her heart remained uncertain.

“I just have one question,” she said, unable to halt the words despite the knowledge that this was hardly the time or place for this particular discussion.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you come to me after…” She floundered beneath his steady cognac gaze. Dammit. Why had she even started this conversation?

“After Leah died?” he finished for her.

She bit her bottom lip, a blush staining her cheeks. “Yes.”

He reached to grasp her hand, squeezing her fingers in a grip that helped to ease her regret for mentioning his dead mate.

“I’ve always told myself that it was guilt that kept me away,” he said, his gaze lowering to where their hands were connected.