“Larissa, you’re warm, and giving, and so considerate of others. I watch you light up at the mere mention of your family and I’m sick with envy. I’d give half my life to have a fraction of your affection for them.”
He drew her cold fingers to his lips and kissed the tips. “I can tolerate a lot of things, but I cannot tolerate you discrediting your worth. I have it on good authority that you’re invaluable to my soul. How could such value attach to nothingness? You’re precious—a treasure. And I’m eternally grateful that I’ve found you. I’d be beyond devastated if I ever lost you. Even tonight, as I searched the house for you, the crushing fear that something might have happened made me frantic with worry.”
He reached for the blanket when he saw her shiver. Draping it over her shoulders, he drew the ends together at her chest. She eased her head onto the pillows and stared away.
“How can I make this better for you, Larissa? Please tell me what you need.”
“I want to know where my brother is. I need to speak to Cain.”
Her need for another male stung, and he wondered if she doubted his ability to protect her. Accepting that she did not want him near, he nodded and backed out of the room. “I’ll send message to your siblings and ask if they know his whereabouts.”
“Annalise will know.”
He hesitated. Annalise was Adam Hartzler’s mate. Adam was Cain’s twin, and the two shared a strange bond that broke the laws of nature. He wasn’t comfortable approaching Adam’s mate about another male’s whereabouts.
“I will speak to your brother Adam first.”
She laughed without humor. “Of course, you will.”
Too late. He realized what he’d done—he placed her fate in the hands of yet another male.
Chapter 31
Dawn crested over the horizon as the stars above faded. Jonas had fought so hard not to come to this place, knowing that once he came, he would forever surrender his heart and soul and nothing would ever be right again.
Wind chilled his skin, but his blood warmed as the beast within awoke at the scent of his mate. His soul raged for him to take what was his.
Windchimes danced and rang as gusts wove throughout the cluttered yard. The air wore the metallic fragrance of snow and the trees swayed in the whistling draft. His ears prickled at the rustle of slight movement inside the dwelling.
He bit down, forcing his jaw to lock and hardening his knees to fight the urge to storm the home. His heart was being sawed in two. Even his thinking changed with each passing moment, his everyday opinions and desires fading into distant memories until he no longer recognized his own mind.
The curse of his calling was swallowing him whole.
The dim set of the house showed before the graying horizon, and Jonas’s breath hitched as a light flickered on inside. His keen hearing followed the sounds coming from within.
He took three steps forward before awareness set in. As if being pulled by a thousand lead balloons, he fought to keep his feet rooted as his honor slipped away.
Finding himself a mere ten feet from the front door of the home, his mind screamed in objection. No! He would move no further. He would leave.
His mind struggled to remember his wife’s beautiful face. If he could just hear her voice—
A soft, feminine hum sang from within the house, stealing his focus.
His back arched as if his heart planned to rip from his chest. Animal instincts battled through the tattered shred of his humanity. Eyes wide, he watched as one foot stepped onto the rickety, old porch stairs as his other foot dragged in protest.
Sweat trickled down his spine. The overwhelming grace of surrender quickly smothered the fleeting thought of triumph, and his struggle softened as if beaten out of him. The battle was lost. His soul wanted what hid inside this home and cared about little else.
Stumbling onto the porch in clumsy, reluctant haste, Jonas tumbled into a stack of clay pots. The terracotta toppled to the planked floor, shattering across the cold ground like ice breaking over the earth.
The front door opened with a swoosh followed quickly by a snap as the screen tightly sprang back in place. His inner beast shivered at her scent, but before he could turn to face her, there was an ominous click in his ear and cold metal poking in his back.
“You stay right there, boy, and I won’t shoot that pretty head of yours off your shoulders.”
His body tightened at the scent of her nearness and the crisp tone of her voice. He glanced over his shoulder, stared up the barrel of the rifle, and his heart kicked with the force of a Clydesdale.
White hair whipped across her face as a cold gust of wind cut under the porch awning. Her threadbare bathrobe fluttered open, drawing his attention to her tattered slippers.