Bonded
Page 8
Reno charged into the clearing, totally losing himself to the wolf inside. He attacked the Alpha, ruthlessly using every trick he’d ever been taught. The fact that his opponent was biting him, that claws were shredding his flesh, barely impinged on his consciousness. Rage drove him onward and he fought as if possessed, ripping out the Alpha’s throat without compunction and leaving the bastard bleeding out on the ground.
Three others were on him by then yet he shook them off like a mere annoyance, spinning around and snapping the foreleg of one before going for the underbelly of another. Blood dripped down his face, blurring his vision. One of them had savaged his ear but he could still hear the cries and screams of fear that echoed through the night. It was those sounds that drove him onward.
Damien’s sudden appearance on the scene only dimly registered in his crazed mind and, following on his partner’s heels, members of his own team. They must have taken it upon themselves to follow him when he’d originally left the refugees at the restaurant. However, a deep bark of acknowledgement was all he gave them for by that time a full out battle was ensuing.
How long they fought, he had no idea. Snarls and yelps of pain, the slipperiness of blood on the ground. His senses were immersed in the battle and then, just as quickly as it had started, it was over.
The haze of rage cleared and his wolf began to subside, exhausted from its frenzied efforts. Reno looked around surprised to see some of his team herding the remaining members of the Purists into a small building. An injured wolf, bloodied and panting, cowered at his feet, while others lay scattered about the clearing. Dark damp patches stained the soil. The scent of death filled the air. And in the middle of it all, a small group of people were huddled on the ground, illuminated by a patch of moonlight.
A shiver cascaded over him at the sight and he shifted forms, knowing he needed to investigate.
On shaking legs he approached the weeping mother who was crouched near her injured son and dead mate. She was a human, mated to a were. The injured child, quiet and in shock, was being tended by one of his team with a medical background.
Licking his lips, his mouth drier than he’d thought possible, he forced himself to speak. “I’m sorry.” The gruffly spoken words were inadequate, but what else could he say?
“Sorry?” The woman rose to her feet, dirt and blood smeared on a face contorted with anger. “You’re sorry? Is that all you can say? They killed my husband and attacked my son! They dragged us out here and made us watch as they—” Her voice faltered on a sob and he reached to touch her arm, however she slapped his hand away. “Damn you! Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me with your filthy Lycan hands! This is your fault. You left us behind and they made an example of us! You bastard! You’re no better than they are!”
The accusations spilled from her lips, each word eating into him like acid on his soul. When she began to hit him, pounding his chest with her fists—fists red with the blood of her dead mate—he did nothing to stop her.
Her words were true; he deserved whatever punishment she wished to perpetrate on him. He’d been too cocky, too caught up in his pride, in congratulating himself as if he’d finally done something worthy with his sorry excuse for a life. He hadn’t double checked with the other mixed families and halves to make sure they hadn’t missed anyone. It was his team. His mistake. His fault.
Her blows rained down upon him until another Enforcer finally led her away. Then he walked to his car, leaned on the fender and retched his guts out. Too tired—too shocked—by what had occurred to even think or feel, he just stood there staring blankly ahead. That’s how Damien found him.
“Reno, I just got off the phone. Headquarters has some DC officers coming in on a private jet and… ” Damien paused and frowned. “You okay?”
He shook his head. No, he wasn’t okay, but it was too much of an effort to speak. Besides how could you explain to someone your own self-loathing? He’d fouled up. Caused more pain and suffering to be dumped upon the very ones he’d sworn to protect.
“Hey… um… Listen. Why don’t you get in the car and I’ll drive you to the motel. I’ve called ahead and arranged rooms. You can wait there and I’ll send a DC to get the particulars from you, okay?”
He nodded, dimly thankful that Damien was taking over. His brain seemed to have shut down and he was operating solely on autopilot.
At the motel, he sat on the bed unable to think of what to do. The sight of the boy’s bloodied body and the dead father couldn’t be erased, nor would the accusations of the mother quit ringing in his ears.
Time passed. He had no idea how long.
At one point he roused enough to note there was blood on his hands but he didn’t know or care if it was his own or someone else’s. His fingers looked swollen too. Experimentally he moved them and welcomed the pain that shot through him. Probably broken, not that it mattered. As the pain dulled, so did his senses and once again he drifted on a sea of nothingness.
A knock on the door barely stirred him. The sound of it easing open didn’t even cause him to blink.
“Reno?”
He looked up and saw Brandi Johansson there and for some reason wasn’t even surprised by the fact. It had been several months since their encounter in the cafe. She worked at Lycan Link Headquarters now, but their paths had yet to cross.
“Hey.” He stared at her, unable to think of what to say, yet feeling an inexplicable wave of comfort wash over him at her presence.
She gave him a faint smile and stepped further into the room, pressing the door shut behind her. “They sent me to help control the situation.”
“The situation?” He gave a short bark of ironic laughter. “Yeah, I’d say we have a situation.”
“I’ve already talked to Damien Masterson so I have some idea of what went on. I need to hear your side now.” She eased in closer and seemed to be studying him carefully.
“My side? I screwed up.” He turned his head away, unwilling to see the disappointment in her face when he admitted his failings. “I left a family behind and those Purist bastards killed their pack mate then attacked a child in front of its mother. It was a ‘warning’ of what would happen if they ever complained again.”
Tears stung at his eyes and he swallowed hard. He was an Enforcer, dammit, and Enforcers didn’t cry. You’re next thing to a rogue, he reminded himself. No pack, no ties, no excess emotions. You do your job, that’s it. Firming his jaw, he continued, his voice flat and unfeeling as he forced the words past the lump in his throat.
“I made them pay. I killed the Alpha and maybe some others. I don’t know. I don’t remember.” He raked his uninjured hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. “It doesn’t really matter though. That boy might die, his father’s dead, and it’s all my own fucking fault.” He darted a glance her way wondering what she was thinking, if she despised him as much as he despised himself.
Brandi was standing by the bed now and she sat down beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. He noted the sheen of moisture in her eyes, but her voice was calm and cool. “So you’re omnipotent now?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She got his attention with that one.
“It means you’re all powerful and can control everyone’s actions. Sort of like a god and no one can hide anything from you.”
“I know what the fucking word means.” He snorted in disgust. “Yeah, I really knew everything this time. I had no idea there was a third family. No one said anything until we were two hours away.”
“So, if you didn’t know and no one told you, how is it your fault?”
“I don’t—” He broke off and snapped his mouth shut. Damned DCs always thought they were so smart. After a moment, he glared at her. “It just is, okay?”
“No. It’s not okay.” She glared back at him, her temper—the one that matched her hair—was starting to show through.
So much for expecting tea and sympathy, he thought.
“The Alpha was purp
osely deceitful. The other families were so wrapped up in themselves they didn’t mention the ones left behind. Yes, maybe your team should have double checked, but this has never happened before. It’s not your fault, Reno. It’s a tragic, unfortunate incident that we’ll all learn from so something similar never happens again.”
He looked at her and blinked. Her words were slowly sinking in, making at least some sense though it irked to admit it. A shuddering sigh escaped him—he hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding his breath—and then he allowed himself to fall back on the bed, his eyes closed.
The coolness of the mattress pressing against him seemed to eradicate the numbness of his body. Suddenly he was aware of every single screaming nerve ending.
“God, I hurt everywhere.”
“And so you should. Just look at you! You’re ripped to pieces. There’s blood all over the bed and there’s a trail leading from the parking lot to here. I’ve already had to stop the motel manager from calling 911.”
“Really?” He opened one eye to look at her. She was standing beside the bed glaring down at him, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “What’d you say?”
“That you were a bleeder with a large paper cut, but I had the proper medical supplies to deal with it.”
She said it with such a straight face that he started to laugh before wincing in pain. A gash on his side throbbed and his ribs hurt with every breath he took.
“Come on. Get up. Go take a shower and when you come out I’ll patch you up.” Brandi clapped her hands like she was commanding a dog to perform a trick.
“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” He grumped, easing himself off the bed to comply with her instructions.
“Nope. My new partner, Al Zimmerman, is at the scene right now. I was sent to deal with you.”
“Drew the short straw, did you?”
“Something like that.” She gave a soft laugh and followed him into the bathroom. After adjusting the water, she started to undo his shirt.
“Still can’t keep your hands off me, I see.” Even feeling like crap, he couldn’t seem to resist teasing her.
“Still full of yourself, I see.” She quipped back as if she hadn’t a care in the world, however he noticed how she hissed and furrowed her brow upon seeing the gash on his side. “I’ll bandage that up once you’re clean.”
He fumbled with his belt, his broken fingers not up to the task. With a soft growl, she pushed his hands away, efficiently undoing the buckle and only turning away as his jeans started to slide from his hips.
“I’ll set your fingers, too. Call me if you need anything.” She left the room as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants.
As the door clicked shut, he stepped under the steaming water. Every cut and scratch stung, breaking through any remaining fog that might have addled his senses and bringing him into full awareness of how battered his body really was. Bloody water swirled around his feet and he winced as he washed the various wounds clean. Thankfully, his Lycan metabolism was already healing the minor injuries while the deeper cuts were slowly showing signs of improvement.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he headed back into the bedroom. Brandi was there with a pair of shorts in her hand.
“Come prepared, do you?” He took the clothing, wondering why she had men’s underwear with her and why that fact bothered him so.
“They’re Al’s, my partner’s. I took them from his suitcase.” She turned her back and he let the towel fall to the ground and began to don the shorts. Just as he was pulling them up, he glanced her way and noticed she was watching his reflection in the mirror.
“Enjoying the show?” He smirked as their eyes met and she flushed bright red.
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall over. You don’t seem very steady on your feet.”
“Liar.”
She huffed and looked away, hurt evident on her face, and he mentally kicked himself. He’d called her a professional liar the last time they’d met but had forgotten until that moment.
“Look, Brandi, I… um… I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s slang for my job. I’m used to it now.” She shrugged and picked up a first aid kit she must have brought in from the car. With a flick of her hand, she gestured for him to sit on the bed.
Wordlessly, she patched up the worst of his wounds and he struggled not to react to the feel of her hands on his body. Her hair fell forward hiding her face and he stifled a groan as the silky strands teased his skin.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” She pushed her hair out of the way and looked up at him, concern in her eyes. He wondered if she’d noticed the thundering of his heart and what she attributed it to.
“No, it’s okay.” He let his gaze wander over her features, taking in her big green eyes and thick lashes, the curve of her cheek, her soft pink mouth. She darted her tongue out and wet her lips and he bit back another groan.
“Good.” She exhaled her answer, her breath feathering over his flesh and he clenched his fists, trying to hide his reaction.
Gently she smoothed a final piece of gauze into place, pressing the tape to his chest. When she would have moved away, he put his hand over hers, trapping it against his chest and preventing her from leaving.
She looked at him, their eyes almost level and he felt himself being pulled towards her. Something was there, something more than just her wolf. It was like another part of him was waiting, a siren calling out for him to come and be united so he could finally feel whole. At that moment he was sure Eve and the apple had nothing on the temptation that was before him.
Using his other hand, he cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. Memories of how she felt, how she tasted flooded him. Despite his aches, his body sprang to life. “Brandi, I—”
“Shh… ” She pressed her fingers to his mouth. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. “Not now, Reno. Maybe later. Right now, you’re too… You need to get some rest.”
A pang of regret filled him, as she slowly pulled away, her fingers briefly caressing his chest before breaking contact. However, he said nothing, merely grunting and sinking down onto the pillows.
“You go to sleep. I’m just going to sit here and start making some notes,” she said as she packed away the first aid kit.
He was too exhausted to question why she didn’t have her own room and let his body relax into the soft mattress. Tense muscles unclenched and his eyes grew heavy. Mentally and physically he was exhausted. On a deep exhale, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
It seemed like his eyes had only been shut for minutes when he started to relive the horrific events of the night. Blood everywhere, children crying, snarling wolves. He began to thrash about; he had to go, to help save the halves, but something was holding him back.
He tried to run but his legs were like dead weights. The cries were louder. They were calling his name, begging him for help yet the harder he tried, the slower he seemed to move. Tree branches were reaching down, blocking his path, holding him back. His feet were sinking into the ground.
Looking down, he frowned wondering where the thick mud that mired his ankles had come from. And then he realized the ground was red. It wasn’t mud. It was blood. Shocked, he glanced around and saw blood dripping from the trees, splashing on the soil below and forming puddles that seemed to grow impossibly fast.
And still the voices of the halves cried out to him, asking why he’d left them behind, why he didn’t save them…
“Reno. Reno!” The voice was right beside him now. Hands were shaking him. He started awake and sat bolt upright, breathing hard, shivering as the air-conditioned air played over his sweat-dampened skin.
“I’m coming!” He stared around in panic and tried to climb out of bed determined to find the halves that needed him. Soft warm hands pushed against his chest, preventing him from getting up.
“Reno. Snap out of it! You’re just having a bad dream.”
“Me?” She gave a half laugh and shook her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. You’re the one having the nightmare.”
“A nightmare?” Reno frowned and the horror of Langstaff came rushing back to him. He closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath trying to rid himself of the suddenly queasy feeling in his stomach. It was a struggle, but he brought it under control. When he opened his eyes again, Brandi was studying him carefully.
“Are you okay now?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you crying?”
“These?” She wiped her face. “Just watching a sad movie.”
He flicked his gaze towards the TV. It wasn’t on. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. Sometimes a person just wanted to be left alone. She’d tell him her problem if she wanted him to know.
“You need to go back to sleep.” She pressed her hands against his chest, forcing him to lie down again. He complied, still tired and a bit disoriented. She pulled the covers up around him, tucking him in causing a hint of a smile to grace his lips. How long it had been since someone had done that for him? “I’ll just sit here beside you on the bed and read for a bit. If you need something, I’m here, okay?”
He nodded and closed his eyes.
There were rustling sounds as she found reading material; next the bed dipped and the springs squeaked when she climbed onto the other side. In the background a clock ticked. The swishing of tires as vehicles sped by on a nearby highway occasionally punctuated the night. Everything was as it should be, yet Reno held himself stiff, unwilling to chance sleep again, to face the nightmares that magnified his failings.