“I can hear you,” Gannon points out.
“How the hell did he—”
“You’re still doing it,” he grumps, switching his weight from one foot to the other, like his body is about to fall asleep from boredom.
“You’re a dick. Did you hear that?” I think.
Gannon doesn’t answer, but his scowl is answer enough. Fuck him for being a hot scowler.
“If you don’t want to hear me, help instead of just standing there pouting,” I snap.
He stiffens. “I’m not pouting. I just don’t see the point. You’re not staying. The others might not know it yet, but you and I do.” His jaw works and though his thoughts are hidden from me, something about his expression looks almost hurt before he glances away down the hall.
“And you know I’m leaving how?” I challenge. “I’ve never even talked to you. You shifted into a wolf in front of me and then ran off the second things got a little chaotic. If anyone has a track record for bailing, that’d be you, asshole.”
Gannon’s eyes light up when he turns back to me and pushes off the wall. He stalks closer and his indignant presence brushes up against my own. His energy is volatile and wild, and the air between us sizzles and spits.
I face him head-on. “I’m not going to let him intimidate me. He can take his little temper tantrum and shove it up his tight ass.”
“Thinking about my ass?”
“Fuck you.”
“Only if you mean it.”
“I mean it. Just not the way you want me to mean it,” I retort, heart racing.
He stops inches away from me, forcing me to look up at him as he grins down at me, the arrogant bastard. This close, I can see that his eyes aren’t just gray. There’s a starburst of gray-blue strands emanating from the black hole of his pupil. He could suck souls in with those eyes and crush them.
“See, that’s the problem. They think you’re here because you’re giving the den a chance,” he rumbles, waving a hand between us. “But you want information…not them. You’re not interested in accepting a mate claim. I guarantee you haven’t even considered it.”
I blink rapidly, taking a step back from the words he uttered so softly they were a whisper. How can a murmur pack all the power of a punch?
“Look, I’m trying to figure this all out.”
“Trying?” He tilts his head, and his no-nonsense stare cuts right through me. “You open the door each day and ask a question or two about this world and how it affects you. What do you know about Perth or Ruger? What personal questions have you asked Ellery, who’s working his ass off day and night on your case?”
Heat crawls up my neck as I stare at him, his words clawing into me and leaving gouges of shame.
“They’re setting aside their entire lives to be here for you. And you haven’t bothered once to ask about their day. Or anything else about them for that matter. You don’t care about us. That’s how I know you’re leaving. That’s how I know we’re fucked.”
Silence.
I try to think of something to say, but there’s nothing. His cutting stare and barbed rebuke left nothing but gaping shock in his wake.
“That’s what I thought.”
Tendrils of guilt spread through my chest.
His expression becomes flat as he finally answers my question. “The alpha can mindspeak to anyone in their pack at will. Outside of that, mindspeak requires a connection or bond. That typically only exists between denmates and family. Sometimes close friends.”
I clear my throat in an effort to stop the way his accusations are clogging it up. Taking a second, I process his words and when I finally speak, my tone is much quieter and more subdued. “So how can I hear you, and you me?”
Stoically, he answers, “When I bit you and initiated the mate claim, it forged a link with my den. We’ll all be able to mindspeak…until you sever that link.”
“Stop.” For some reason, I hate the sound of those words aloud. I hate him presuming I’m some fucking villain.
He gives me a look and just continues, “It would be great if you could keep your thoughts to yourself until then.”
I glare up at him, a deep rumble resonating from my chest in response. “And how do I do that?” I ask, pissed that I’m in a position to have to rely on him for answers, that he wants me to feel bad about it.
Of course I’m asking questions; I’m trying to make sense of this chaos. The other guys have been nothing but kind and patient. They’re okay with waiting for me to find my way through all of this shit. Right?
Doubt starts to seep in through the cracks Gannon just hammered into me. As much as I want to deny it, he might be right. Even so, being a dick isn’t the way to go about convincing someone.
“You don’t want us to hear your thoughts? Shield them. How you do that is up to you. I don’t know what you’ve got going on in that pretty little head of yours, so you’ll have to figure that out on your own. Until then, you’re never going to be alone in here. We’ll always be right there with you.” He taps his pointer finger against my temple.
I slap his hand away and pull in a deep calming breath to keep myself from punching him.
“Any other questions, kitten?” he asks, stepping away from me and leaning back against the wall again, resuming his original position.
“No, you’ve been a great help, Gannon,” I snark. “I’m truly overwhelmed by your compassion and understanding. Just a thought though,” I add, leveling him with an incinerating look. “If you don’t like cleaning up messes, don’t make them. Or did you forget that the only reason I’m here is because you bit me?”
I turn away and slam the door so hard that the frame shudders…just like my shoulders. But I refuse to cry. I breathe through the rush of emotions that bombard me. Anger, frustration, and outrage. Hurt and sadness because I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve it.
You didn’t do anything wrong, I tell myself firmly, squeezing my eyes shut. “I will not cry over an asshole,” I chant like a mantra.
But a lone tear glides out anyway.
A soft knock sounds from the door, and I look over at the bright sunlight pouring through my hotel room’s windows.
It’s too early for it to be Ellery.
Pushing up from the sofa I’ve been sitting and stewing on for the last few hours, I check the peephole. Pink, white, and orange flowers greet me from the other side of the door. The bouquet is gorgeous, but I step back from the door and eye it skeptically.
Who’d be sending me flowers?
“Noah, you there?” Ruger’s deep, honeyed voice asks from the other side of the barrier, and I unlatch the lock on the door and pull it open.
Astonishment flickers through me when I find him holding a massive cut glass vase of roses and peonies in one hand and several large bags in the other.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he hands me the beautiful arrangement. A flush of pleasure roams through me when I take in all the bright colors and fragrant scents. It’s been a very long time since someone brought me flowers.
I take them and set them on the entry table by the door, a tiny grin rising on my face.