Hot-Blooded Alpha by Eve Bale
Talis
The sight of my left hand keeps me awake all night.
Hours later, it still doesn’t seem real to me that I’m missing the tip of my middle finger, nail included.
No, not missing, rather, had it taken.
Removed.
But what’s surprising to me is the sense of relief running through me, because I know Abel and I know Uncle Glynn well enough to be amazed I even still have a hand at all.
And it doesn’t hurt. At least not anymore.
All I can say is, thank fuck for shifter healing, because if I’d been an ordinary human it would have been the easiest thing in the world for me to end up with a nasty infection, and I can’t see anyone making a trip to the hospital for my benefit.
As it is, I tore an old t-shirt and used it as a bandage so I wouldn’t bleed all over my sheets. While it bled for a good few hours, when I went to change my DIY dressing, it’d stopped.
But still, gratitude is the overwhelming feeling running through me.
I’m guessing the reason Uncle Glynn didn’t have Abel cut off a bigger piece of me has more to do with Dayne than fear of hurting me badly enough I’d need hospital treatment.
Uncle never tried to hide his determination to sell me off to the highest bidder, and given his fascination with money, I’m guessing Dayne handed over money. A lot of money.
Which I gather is what all of this is about.
Now that I’m not terrified Uncle Glynn is about to kill my baby, I notice things I missed at the time, like how desperate he sounded when he wanted to know if Dayne knew about any other investments other than in Canada.
I think back to my overheard conversation from the pack members in the alcove, and when I put two and two together, I figure whatever Dayne did, the future of the Merrick pack is in jeopardy.
Maybe it’s bad enough Dayne’s come close to bankrupting them.
All of which makes my situation even more desperate than it was already, because if there’s one thing Uncle Glynn won’t stand for, it’s a threat to his position as alpha.
Good. I hope Dayne fucking ruins him. I hope he takes the whole fucking pack down.
When I think about the toxic elements in this pack, the best thing that could happen is watching the whole place—pack included—go up in smoke, starting with Uncle Glynn and Abel.
I still struggle to understand how fucked up you have to be to go around groping a dazed and shocked girl you’ve just cut part of her finger off.
But at least it was enough to yank me out of my pain-filled and stunned state when I realized Abel was taking advantage of me after he’d carried me up to my room.
I screamed loud enough Uncle Glynn warned Abel not to do anything that would interfere in his plans, which thankfully put a stop to Abel’s wandering hands.
Now Dayne’s expression when he was talking with Uncle Glynn at our moon-blessing ceremony makes sense. When I think back to that night, I’m almost positive that what I saw on his face was hatred.
Only I wish Dayne had told me what he was doing. Not because I wanted to stop him, but so I could help.
And now Uncle has had a courier deliver him a package containing the tip of my finger.
Although I try to think about how Dayne and the rest of the pack will respond to the package, I can’t.
Not because it feels too much like a movie, where a kidnapper sends the family the victim’s ear, but because I don’t understand Dayne.
Sure, our mating bond was only just strengthening before Uncle Glynn kidnapped me, but other than the night I bit him, and we had super intense sex by the lake, I’ve never seen Dayne really lose it before.
I have no idea how he’ll react.
If he hadn’t told me that it was his old alpha who’d slaughtered his family, I’d fully expect him to single-handedly wipe out the Merrick pack in one night, Rambo-style.
But I know it wasn’t him.
Only Uncle Glynn doesn’t. So maybe that explains him holding back. He was probably afraid if he sent Dayne too big of a piece of me, Dayne would come down on him like a ton of bricks.
Or maybe he worried Dayne wouldn’t want me anymore if I was missing too many pieces.
I hope not though, because I am still his mate. His pregnant mate. The thought he’d just leave me here is so soul-destroying, I’d lose it if I don’t have some hope to cling onto that he’ll launch a rescue.
But I can’t afford to just sit around and wait for it to happen, not with Uncle Glynn’s lack of patience. And then there’s Abel.
Sooner rather than later, I’m going to say something to piss Uncle Glynn off and he’ll beat the shit out of me. Or even worse, now I’m used goods, there’s every chance he’ll finally let Abel loose on me.
Then there’s the not-so-small matter of my wolf. The loud growly part of me that’s suddenly silent.
Now I know something must be wrong because if anything was going to draw her out and make her fight, it would have been my being pinned under Abel while he cut my finger off.
But there’s nothing. Not the smallest growl, or snarl, or anything.
It’s like the only thing I feel in my head is… me. Just me.
And for a person used to the constant growling, the silence is more than a little disconcerting.
No.
Frankly, it’s terrifying. And… lonely without her voice in my head, even though mostly it just gave me a headache.
I know you’re there. Even if you are more crazy than sane.
I go silent as I wait for a response, a growl, a sound of frustration that I’m calling her crazy, but there’s nothing. So, I try again.
I didn’t think I would, but I miss you… I miss your voice. So how about once, just a little snarl, or even a big one ‘cause I called you crazy.
When there’s no response, I swallow my urge to cry.
Please. I don’t know how to be strong without you.
I hold my breath as I wait for a response since I’ve never admitted to needing her before.
But as the seconds tick by and I release my breath, there’s nothing.
Not one growl.
Not one snarl.
Nothing but a deafening silence.
