Bound

Chapter 21

With a choked cry, Nyah's slick palm slid from the banister and fell into her lap.

"He has no idea you're here. I told him the only rogue who had passed this way was a Taylor and he corrected me straight away, said his rogue was a female. He has no idea, Nyah, no idea at all that you're here."

"He'll find out," she croaked, grabbing at the step behind to clamber upright.

"I'll be ready for him."

"No you won't. You'll never be ready for Simon Northfell."

"Nick and I have a plan," he assured. "We've doubled the patrols and I've been researching how . . ."

Dean's words faded as the inevitable began to play out in Nyah's mind. When Simon Northfell came, chaos would descend. Confusion would come first with the communication between patrols severing. Anxious orders would follow, and pack members, like Nick and Kyle, would tear into the forest. They would vanish within seconds and Dean would experience the violent silencing of the mind-link. He'd start shouting, directing pack members into the safety of their homes, except they wouldn't be safe behind their doors.

In the thick of the panic, Simon would materialise, his pinched face calmly smug. Dean would rush him. But with a flick of a wrist, or perhaps a click of fingers, Dean would be on the ground. Or maybe not. Maybe he would turn to face her instead, his eyes dull, limbs responding to Simon's orders as he reached out . . .

"Nyah, Nyah!"

Dean's grip reeled her back. She was half way up the stairs, the sounds of panicked breathing loud in her head as she clung to the banister. Her blood had turned to ice, her skin goose-bumping so severely, every inch of her stung. "Can't—can't breathe," she choked.

The world tipped as Dean scooped her into his arms. "Look at me," he ordered, "look at me, Nyah."

Simon Northfell had hijacked her mind. Instead of Dean's face, his sneered down at her, black eyes glistening with delight. "You can't hide from me," he sang. "We have pups to conceive."

His face then morphed into Dean's, but just like she'd witnessed with her pack, dark magic had rendered him emotionless. Vacant eyes peered down at her and she shrank back, unable to find the breath to scream.

"Nyah, open your eyes."

Obedience to an alpha's command overrode Nyah's terror. Along with the waft of alcohol stinging her nostrils, it vanquished the images as the rim of a glass tipping her lips brought her back to the present.

"Drink it," the order sounded. "Come on."

Alcohol scalded her throat, the burn flickering her eyes open to Dean's living room.

"That's it," he soothed. "Another sip, one more."

Coughing against the potent liquid, Nyah glanced around, sure Simon would leap out any second.

"What did he do to you?"

Huddled in a corner of the couch, knees to her chest in a bid to protect herself, Nyah ignored Dean's murmured question. Brandy burned her throat, accentuating the iciness of the rest of her body. She shivered hard.

"Here." Dean whipped his shirt off and spread it over her shoulders before grabbing a throw from one of the armchairs.

"Why am I so cold?" her teeth chattered as she sat forward to allow him wrap it around her.

"Shock. You'll be okay in a minute," he promised, sitting close as he tugged the throw into place. "Drink some more."

Nyah obeyed, taking the glass from him. The amber liquid threatened to slosh over the edge as she brought it to her lips.