Chapter 633
“Dallas?” I whispered, my heart dropping into my stomach.
He didn’t hear me. His storm-gray eyes dilated until they were almost entirely black, staring blankly into the blinding light. He wasn’t in the mall anymore. His shattered mind had dragged him back to the frozen hell of the Siberian Dire Guard black site — to the exact moment a silver dust bomb had detonated in his face.
His broad chest began to heave erratically. A violent tremor wracked his paralyzed legs.
“Silver…” Dallas choked out, his voice a broken, guttural rasp. He raised a trembling hand, trying to shield his face from a phantom explosion. “Ragnar… no… the silver…”
Through our mate-bond, I felt the agonizing, silent howl of his Inner Wolf burning alive. Shoppers in the atrium began to stop, pointing and whispering at the Alpha King who was visibly unraveling in the middle of the walkway.
I didn’t care about the crowd. I didn’t care about decorum.
I moved instantly, stepping between his wheelchair and the onlookers. I hiked up the skirt of my maternity dress and straddled his lap, using my body to completely shield his vulnerable, trembling frame from the public eye.
I grabbed his face, my thumbs pressing firmly against his jaw.
“Look at me, Dallas,” I commanded, projecting every ounce of my Luna authority into my voice. “Come back to me. You are safe.”
He gasped, his eyes darting wildly, still trapped in the snow and the burning silver.
I leaned down and crushed my lips against his. I poured all my love — all my grounding scent of Moonflowers and rain — directly into his senses, anchoring his soul with the sheer force of our unbreakable bond.
Dallas let out a ragged, shuddering breath against my mouth. The violent tremors slowly subsided. As the hallucination broke, the crushing reality of his public breakdown crashed into him. A wave of profound, suffocating humiliation radiated from his skin. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, hiding his shame against my shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered fiercely, wrapping my arms around his broad back.
“Well, this is… unexpected.”
The smooth, slightly arrogant voice cut through the tension. I turned my head. Alpha Lance Sterling and Cynthia Volkov had just stepped out of the boutique, stopping dead in their tracks at the sight of me straddling the Alpha King in his wheelchair.
Vance Decker materialized from the shadows instantly, his hand resting near his weapon, his Inner Wolf bristling with lethal vigilance.
I didn’t scramble off Dallas’s lap in embarrassment. Instead, I rose slowly, smoothed down my dress, and positioned myself directly in front of his wheelchair like a lioness guarding her wounded mate.
“Alpha Sterling,” I said, my voice dead calm and perfectly polite. “Congratulations on your engagement.”