His Savage Devotion

Chapter 6

Caz

The light in the hospital room was too bright. Not painful, exactly—just sterile and constant.

The wolfsbane was slow to fade, like it had settled into my bloodstream, too stubborn to let go.

Angelus was quiet. Still sleeping. I could feel him deep inside me—distant, but alive. Recovering.

The door opened, and I glanced up as Alpha Dean stepped into the room. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes.

I straightened a little despite the pain. “Alpha Dean.”

“Alpha Erix,” he returned, cool and professional. “Mind if I come in?”

I gestured vaguely. “You already did.”

He shut the door behind him and crossed to the foot of the bed, scanning me once before his nose twitched. He paused.

“You had a visitor,” he said.

My brow furrowed. “One of my pack?”

“No. One of mine.” His tone shifted—subtle, but not lost on me. “Taryn Leon. You’ve met?”

I blinked. “I don’t think so.”

“She’s my Beta’s daughter,” he said, studying me like I was a puzzle missing a few key pieces. “Strong. Smart. Very bonded to this pack. She was here recovering after a poisoning. Wolfsbane.”

That caught my attention. I looked up sharply. “Wolfsbane?”

He nodded once. “Mysterious case. No clear source. We’re still investigating.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My skin felt cold suddenly, like a draft had blown in under the window.

He narrowed his gaze. “You’re sure you don’t know her?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. I mean… I just woke up.”

Dean didn’t flinch, but something behind his eyes shifted.

I added, “Why does it matter if she came in here?”

“Because she didn’t tell anyone,” he said. “And neither did you.”

“I was asleep,” I replied. “I didn’t even know anyone had been here until you said it.”

Dean’s mouth tightened. He paced once, then stopped at the side of the bed.

“Let me ask you a more important question,” he said carefully. “Are you currently… bonded?”

I frowned. “No. I haven’t met my mate yet.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life,” I said. “I’d know.”

Dean nodded slowly, like he was filing something away. “And in all your years as Alpha, you’ve never… taken a chosen?”

“No,” I said, then hesitated. “Almost once. But I knew it wasn’t right. So did she.”

“Smart,” he murmured.

I studied him. “Why are you asking me this?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced back at the room, at the door this Taryn person had apparently slipped through.

“When you recover,” Dean said finally, “we’ll talk again. About your people. What you want next.”

“I already know what I want,” I said. “I want Eclipse Moon to survive. To rebuild. I want land, safety, resources—and a chance to give my pack a future.”

Dean gave a short nod. “Good. You’ll get your chance.”

He turned to go, but paused at the door.

“And Alpha Erix,” he said over his shoulder, “if you happen to meet someone… and things feel familiar, even strange… trust your instincts. But be careful with my people.”

Then he left, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

I stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pull in my chest. The ache I’d chalked up to wolfsbane. But now… now I wasn’t so sure.

Gavin

I’d packed and repacked my bag four times.

Not because I didn’t know what to bring—but because I kept hoping if I dragged it out long enough, someone would call the whole thing off. That maybe I could stay with her just a few more days. Hell, even hours.

No such luck.

My dad was already at the car, checking the route, briefing me again on the training schedule like I hadn’t already read it twice. This trip was supposed to shape me into a leader. But the only thing I could think about right now was her.

Taryn.

I grabbed the last of her things from the nurse’s station—release forms, some meds they wanted her to take for a few days, a pair of crumpled socks she’d somehow kicked under the bed. The nurses all smiled at me like I was some kind of hero.

“She’s lucky to have you,” one said.

I nodded, not trusting myself to answer.

I pushed open the door to her room, and there she was—sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in a soft sweatshirt and jeans, her hair braided over one shoulder. She looked tired but strong. Stubborn, like always.

Her eyes lifted when she saw me. “Did they finally let you steal me?”

“They said only if I bring you back in one piece.”

She snorted. “That’s optimistic.”

I held up the folder. “You’re officially released, Miss Leon. Let’s get you out of here.”

She stood slowly, wincing just a bit before steadying herself. I reached out without thinking, letting her lean into my side as we walked down the hallway. I knew every inch of her posture—how she carried pain, how she masked it. She wasn’t fully healed, not yet. But she was too proud to say it.

“I can walk, you know,” she muttered.

“I know. But I want to.”

She didn’t argue after that. Just leaned into me a little more.

When we got to the car, she slid into the passenger seat and exhaled like she was finally free. I closed the door gently behind her, then walked around to the driver’s side, climbing in and buckling up.

I didn’t start the engine right away.

“I leave at noon,” I said.

She looked over at me. “I know.”

“I hate the timing of this.”

“I know that too.”

I finally turned to face her. “Say something that makes it easier.”

She smiled—small, a little sad. “Okay. Go, learn all the Alpha things. Impress them. Come home smarter and more annoyingly confident than you already are.”

I huffed a laugh, but it didn’t feel real.

“I’ll call you every night,” I promised.

“You’d better.”

“And when I get back, we’ll set the date. No more waiting.”

She reached over and laced her fingers through mine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

We sat there like that for a moment, in the quiet. My fingers brushing over her palm. Her thumb circling the back of my hand. Her scent was calm, but something underneath it—something almost hesitant—was just barely out of reach.

I didn’t bring it up.

Didn’t ask why Dean had been so edgy around Caz. Or why I kept catching Taryn looking off into the distance like she was hearing something I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to doubt her.

So instead, I drove her home. One hand on the wheel. The other never letting go of hers.