Wild and Free (The Three #3)(74)

“That makes me uneasy and easy at the same time,” Abel told him.

“As you should be,” Callum replied, “for that means they can concentrate elsewhere.”

“And we have people out there concentrating on elsewhere?” Abel asked.

“We do,” Lucien replied, “as well as the United States military being aware of the situation and on high alert for attack.” He threw out a hand Abel’s way, indicating his body which, since their earlier situation, had fully healed. “We immortals can sustain many injuries. But this doesn’t mean modern weaponry is futile against our kind. Far from it.”

“Will they fight fire with fire?” Abel went on.

“Likely,” Callum grunted.

“So we’re at war. We’re just waiting to see what they do next,” Abel surmised.

“We’re also trying to discover what they’ll do next in hopes of being in position to stop it,” Lucien told him.

“And these Prophesies,” Abel kept at them. “You know of them?”

Both men nodded, but Callum spoke.

“They’re unfortunately vague. They’re also unfortunately vaguely dire. There are no conclusions. We don’t know what will happen definitively. We don’t even know what will happen to lead up to the ultimate campaign. We just know the stories of The Three have all come true. So we know they are not just words written on paper by the Ancients.”

Abel didn’t even bother asking what the Ancients were, not that he didn’t care, just that he was done with this shit.

For now.

“Further,” Callum continued, “the wolves have Oracles. I’ve spoken with them, but they say the destiny of The Three has not yet been written in the stars.”

“I’m sure you’ve impressed the importance of a phone call if that happens,” Abel noted, and Callum grinned.

“Indeed, I have.”

Jesus. The entirety of this shit was f*cking whacked.

“This is a lot to take in,” Lucien said quietly. “Go to Delilah. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

That was the only good suggestion he’d heard all day.

He nodded to Lucien, gave a nod to Callum, and moved to the door.

“Take the whiskey,” Callum called.

The second good suggestion of the day.

He gave the wolf a look, changed direction, and took the decanter of whiskey.

He had his hand on the knob when Callum declared, “I do not die in this war and my queen sure as f*ck doesn’t.”

Abel turned to him, and if he was another man, say a human one, the look on the wolf’s face would have him shaking in his boots.

Being who he was, what he was, and just learning what he and Delilah were facing, he did not.

He got Callum. He liked what he got. And he gave the wolf another nod.

“Leah and I the same,” Lucien said with deceptive calmness, and Abel looked to him. “And we, none of us, will allow you or Delilah to fall.”

“She likes people she cares about to call her Lilah,” Abel said in reply.

Both men stared at him.

“She’ll give you that go-ahead, my guess, tomorrow over breakfast,” Abel finished.

Lucien’s lips again twitched and Callum gave him another grin.

Abel didn’t give them anything.

He turned back to the door, opened it, moved his ass through it, and went directly to his mate.





Chapter Twelve


It Felt Like Falling in Love

Delilah



My eyes opened in the dark.

I felt exceptionally soft sheets, the most heavenly mattress I’d ever experienced, as well as even more heaven.

Being tangled up with Abel.

Entirely tangled up. Our legs. His arms wrapped tight around me, mine around him, my face in his throat, my hair scattered over my neck and shoulder as well as his.

“Sleep, *cat,” he murmured into the top of my hair.

How he knew I was awake when I didn’t move anything but my eyelids, I didn’t know.

I just knew he wasn’t sleeping, likely from worry for me.

“He taught me how to play checkers.”

I meant Snake.

Abel knew what I meant and his arms gathered me even closer.

“When am I gonna settle in the knowledge I had that kind of love?” I asked, thinking of Snake’s words days before.

“Baby,” he whispered but gave me no answer. Probably because there wasn’t one. It would happen when it happened and I just had to ride the wave of grief until it came to me.

“I see him when I close my eyes, Abel,” I told his throat. “I fall asleep and wake, because in my dreams, I see him lying there in all that blood.”

“Talk to me,” he urged.

“I am.”

“No, bao bei, about Snake. Talk to me. Tell me about him.”

I didn’t know if this was a good idea.

But still, I nestled closer, took a deep breath, and talked to my man about Snake. My father’s friend. Someone I’d known my whole life. Someone I’d laughed with. Someone who’d also been disappointed I’d dated a preppy. Someone who’d come to my high school graduation, given me a hug and a present of a gold crucifix necklace, and told me he was proud of me.