“But, Izzy, she doesn’t know,” Zoe interjected.
“Who is Izzy?” Abel asked looking at his brothers.
8
Chapter
“The voicemail box for Zoe Cerice is full,” a mechanical voice said.
Izobel sighed tossing her phone onto the passenger seat. The bracelet tapped eagerly against the windshield, pulling slightly more east. She reached behind the seat retrieving the map. Driving with her knees she unfolded the paper. Izobel was in the middle of nowhere squared with miles of nothing ahead of her. They’d long left Augusta behind. She was on her way to the border between Maine and Canada. What the hell was Zoe doing out here?
9
Chapter
Johnny moved toward her with an offer of linens in his hands. He made sure they were out in the open. She was dealing with everything a lot better than he’d imagined she would. He just wanted her to know he understood how frightening all of this could be. His bracelets clacked together.
Zoe sniffed, wiping at her tears. She took the flat pillow from him. He had a strange sort of ease. Awkward as the first brush everything he did got her to smile. It was an odd sort of superpower. She enjoyed it though.
At first, Zoe thought she clung to it for the comfort it brought, and yeah it was true. But the extent of it boggled her mind. And more importantly, she just liked the taste of him. Zoe stood up and helped him make the bed.
“She’s more comfortable than she looks,” he said referring to its broken down artifice.
Zoe handed him the blanket and he was careful to keep from touching her. The heavy silver braid that held the chunky piece of Dumortierite ticked against the red Tiger’s eye string of beads he had wrapped around his arm. Both were gifts. And both were meant for nights like these. One leant clarity. The other grounded him.
This close to the full moon the Lunatic howl beckoned him. He kept his distance. She was fading. The cry ebbed, but his anxiety roared in full swing. All that was left of the pearly shine Zoe had was a glimmer that caught in the light.
Out of all the details sparking around them all, he could concentrate on was the wild scent of strawberries in her blood. His beast was ravenous for Zoe. Curious and wanting it breathed her in. The wider the ocean he put between them the more his senses begged for a taste of her.
Zoe wasn’t keen on being relegated to the tower. She supposed if these people were going to kidnap her they’d be sure she was stuffed in a room they could lock her in. And her imaginings went a lot like the style of the room he led her to.
Heavy bookcases stuffed with dusty old books. The carpet was threadbare and faded.
“So do you have like a magic rose fading in a bell jar somewhere? Or what?” Zoe asked regarding the gothic revival architecture and Victorian furnishings.
“This house has been in our family for a long time. She’ll never be what she was,” he mused. “This is your home, Zoe. You are welcome here.”
Johnny’s earnestness made her wonder who denied him such a thing.
“So I can leave this room?” She hated to ask it. But she needed to know.
“You are pack. Not a prisoner. This house is every bit yours as it is mine. If you need anything just ask.”
She flashed him a brittle smile and wandered about the room.
“I know it’s scary now, but you’ll see. It’s not so bad here. You might even be happy.”
The hope ringing in his voice could have gone solo. Zoe completed her circuit to a chorus of creaks from the hardwood. She came to a stop in front of Johnny. Her eyes swept his careless hair and broad shoulders. The braided silver necklace he kept fumbling with caught her attention. She leaned into him curious.
It spilled out of his shirt all braided wire and intricate beading. It was a lovely bauble, natural, and shaped at the same time. At its center was a chunk of flat moonstone. She reached for it. Johnny’s eyes went wide when he realized what she was doing. His calm comfort shattered as he moved to keep her from touching it.
Flowing ease hardened into tense muscles and protective violence. Falling headfirst right back into fear and dread. She even yelped.
“No!” Johnny shouted his warning.
Zoe gasped, surprised by his bark. It shoved a stunning spike through her. Pinned her to the ground, she froze.
The tense moment rang like a bell between them. Zoe couldn’t help measuring the distance from her to him. She shrank back, wary and slow. His face melted into contrition. He reached out to her but thought better of it halfway through.
“I won’t hurt you,” Johnny vowed. “It’s the silver you see. It hurts.”
“Why do you wear it then?” she asked hesitating at the mouth of the tower.
“It helps me.”
10
Chapter
Zoe turned around stepping back to take it all in. An enormous beast of a Victorian farmhouse, a tower and gables both, dominated by a sprawling front porch. The white clapboard siding was a gunmetal grey in some places. Its chipped paint and antique weathervanes fought hard for descriptive rights. It was a shadow of its former glory. Cut-glass windows reminded you just how much she’d fallen.
The trees were tall enough to block out the grey sky. Closing you inside a box cut off from the rest of the world. The low lights and jeweled leaves in saturated hues were a lush trace against her senses. The wind was brisk. A shiver dripped down her spine.
Zoe moved slow and careful down the path between the trees. The rocks hurt her bare feet and she was just a little worried Abel was out here. He frightened her. He didn’t yell or threaten but then again he didn’t need to. Something about him howled danger and Zoe was perfectly willing to listen.
She adjusted the French-roll on the waist of the linen pajama bottoms Connor let her borrow. Their size lent an odd perspective to the schoolboy chic Connor was so fond of. She tied a knot in the striped button-down shirt and rolled the hem on the pants but it was a losing battle. Every time she moved, she had to fix them. But Zoe took one look at the blood staining her clothes and just couldn’t deal. She threw them into the trash without a second’s hesitation.
Zoe was glad she couldn’t remember. It gave her an excuse to distance herself from the whole situation. And distance was all she wanted right now.
Still, curiosity peaked every time she thought about Johnny. Connor was menacing and calculating. It was nice to have someone who got her humor even so. Every joke she attempted Johnny just wrinkled his brow at. He’d start to laugh but it was always a few seconds too late. He was only three years older than Connor, four? Four was hedging into definite maybe territory. And yet not one pop culture reference did the guy get. Somehow, it added to his mystique though.
She turned the corner and her jaw dropped.
The car was sleek. Candy apple red paint shimmered in the sun despite years of dust and grime. The rag-top was a mess, dingy and ripped. But it took nothing away from the awesomeness.
Johnny spun the ratchet loosening yet another bolt. Some upbeat pop-punk song from the early two-thousands blared from a beat-up boombox sitting on a gigantic wooden spool he used for a table. Shafts of sunlight cut through the gloom of the big red barn.
“A sixty-five Ford Galaxy!” Zoe exclaimed.
Johnny came up so fast he knocked his head on the bottom of the hood. Surprise and pain crumpled his expression into something she found adorable. Zoe threw her head back with laughter that she sorely needed.
“I didn’t- I didn’t hear you come up,” Johnny was quick to say.
He dropped the ratchet into a dented toolbox and used a dirty rag to wipe the sweat from his brow. Shirtless, his chest smeared with grease and a little motor oil. Jeans hung from his narrow hips. He laced his combat boots only halfway. She noticed the dog tags for the first time. He was way too young for Afghanistan.
“You look good… bet-better,” he corrected.
A shower and clean clothes certainly left her feeling a little closer to normal. But no makeup and the
term naked came to mind. Her blunted bangs hid the wicked bruise on her forehead. She wandered a little closer at the invitation of Johnny’s smile. Her fingertips traveled the line of the car.
“How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?” he asked.
“It’s splitting like firewood,” she affirmed.
“Do you need something?”
“It’s good. Nora gave me some aspirin.”
“I’m sorry about that?” he said.
“About what?”
His eyes widened just a tiny bit. He’d nearly given everything away. “That-that it hurts,” he covered. He turned away from her pretending to pay attention to something on the engine, anything to avoid her appraising gaze.
Silence stretched between them. Zoe found it awkward and obnoxious. This place was steeped in it. Even with the music blaring in the background its heavy presence could not be denied. She forced herself to fill it.
“I was a little out of it yesterday. Circumstances and all. I just… I wanted to say thank you.”
Her emotions bubbled just beneath the surface she presented. Johnny could see right through her. He understood better than most what she was going through. Hell, he understood better than she did. And he was all empathy.
Johnny moved forward eliminating the distance between them. He dropped his head a little to look her in the eye. Johnny had an urge to touch her hair. It shimmered blue in the light, smooth as silk.
“It’s going to be all right you know. It’s peaceful here.”
Her eyes fluttered and she forced a smile. It was weak. Zoe nodded her head. She didn’t trust her voice.
Johnny took her hand. Gliding his thumb across her knuckles, he heaved a breath. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Zoe. I promise. I’ll protect you.”
Zoe licked her lips. His eyes were so pretty. He was handsome enough, but what she really liked about him was that look. She believed him. This stranger calmed her. His presence made her feel safe. Funny, safety wasn’t something Zoe needed until right that moment. She’d never once even thought about it before.
Now she craved it. Now, she was a victim. She would have ended up just like the rest of her family had it not been for this man with his lovely smile and bedroom eyes. Her life crumbled away irrevocably and this hand caught her as she slipped over the ledge. He pulled her up onto the shore of another world. Tumultuous as that had been she was grateful to have him with her.
He wiped at her tear and she bit her lip. Johnny offered up another of those gentle smiles.
“What do you say I show you around?”
Zoe sniffed. “I’d like that.”
He tossed the rag into the toolbox and led her outside. This was the smaller of two barns. They made it all of four steps and she hissed, crumpling. Her toes danced in the tall grass. He kicked out of his boots and offered them to her.
“Doesn’t that just transfer my pain to you?” she asked.
“Maybe, but I can take it.”
She smiled slipping into his boots. Sweaty as they were it was a sweet gesture and it won him a few points. He even dropped down in front of her to tie them. She laughed at him. Charmed.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Josie.”
Zoe cocked a brow. He jogged up to the door on the big white barn and threw it back.
“Is Josie your girlfriend?”
“Kind of,” he laughed. Leading her into the barn, he opened his arm wide. “See that one,” he pointed.
Chickens. Most of them were fat and feathery. Only one had red and green feathers. He strutted about the pen. The one Johnny pointed at was just a chick with downy yellow fluff.
“You want to hold her?”
Zoe nodded her head. “I’d be honored,” she joked.
It was worth the trip out here to watch him chase the tiny thing down. Closing his domed hands over the little chick, he brought her over, reaching over the fence. Zoe pet its head with one finger and the little monster pecked her. The look on her face in response had Johnny laughing.
“Don’t mind her. She’s just jealous. You’re the first pretty girl to vie for my attention, you see.”
“That’s some stiff competition; I mean look at her. She’s adorable, tiny and vulnerable. She’s a guy’s dream,” Zoe continued with the joke.
“It’s good of you to admit that.”
He basked for a moment in Zoe’s smile. He had a strong urge to kiss her. Johnny tamped it down. Even if she did accept him, which let’s face it was a huge IF, it wasn’t right to take advantage. She was hurting, vulnerable. She deserved to feel safe, no strings attached. Johnny turned setting the chick free. They both watched as she hopped away.
***
Connor stood at the window watching as they talked and laughed. Johnny had a tendency to make his life difficult. Every plan, every maneuver, every trap was carefully placed with his older brother in mind. He had plans for the girl. Johnny was trying to get himself attached. That wouldn’t do.
“What makes her so special? Hmmm?”
Connor turned to Nora. She sat at the kitchen table. A plethora of papers and maps laid out before her. She took a sip of her tea.
“Johnny said the only reason he found her was because Isaak stalked her for so long,” Connor answered even though she was talking to herself.
“That’s what I mean. Why would he watch her for so long? Why would he choose a teenaged girl for this?”
“Well, the middle-aged man he tried before didn’t work,” Connor pointed out with a wry grin.
“But only because Abel got to him before the moon,” she countered, lost in thought.
11
Chapter
The wolf was massive. His red fur tipped with black. He stalked toward her slow, deliberate. She shrank away, turning her head and closing her eyes. Wanda was sure if she kept telling herself this wasn’t happening this monster would disappear in a puff of wishful thinking. She wrapped her saggy arms around the metal post, the grating of the catwalk bit into her plump skin.
Sweat rolled down her cheek glistening on her brown skin. It dripped from her head full of tight spiral curls, and soaked into her red suit-jacket. Her heel caught on the wrought iron as she clumsily fought to cram her ample frame into an even tighter space. It snapped its slathering jaws and the woman screamed.
Michael reacted to the carnage by looking away his face tightened into a grimace. He’d never enjoyed the sight of blood. Her blubbering cries weren’t making this any easier. He gagged. Michael snatched the silk handkerchief out of his pocket and held it to his nose. A shiver rocked his shoulders back and forth.
Isaak shifted form. The sounds of bones cracking and forging into their most familiar shape echoed off the brick walls and low sobs of their newest Metri. He padded barefoot down the catwalk stairs.
Blood sparkled on his lips and chin. It stained his teeth. One of his sycophants rushed toward him with a pair of pants and a fresh shirt. She doted on him cleaning his face and dressing him. Isaak stood there patiently with barely even a glance in her direction.
“Your sister is becoming a tiresome distraction. I spend more of my time thwarting her machinations than I do trying to push anything with the other families,” Michael complained. “So at least it gives me something to do.”
Isaak gave the dig a sigh. Michael Risguard had never been quiet about his thoughts on the speed of their crusade. Isaak certainly didn’t feel like arguing the matter. He stared past Michael at the four men carrying their newest sacrifice down the steps. “Put her with the others,” he commanded.
“Why don’t you at least let me try to bring her over to your side?” Michael asked. “She’s obviously willing to work against the king. She might just join us.”
“No.”
That was always his answer. Isaak knew Nora better than that. Her ideals for the Worthington house aligned far closer to their Grandfather’s than Michael realized. Besides, he needed the distance to carry out the choices he’d made. His baby sist
er’s disappointed pout did more damage to his resolution than it should.
Michael had a difficult time hiding his annoyance. “You know in order to take down your family eventually you are going to have to move against them right.”
His smug tone irked Isaak. He kept his calm despite it. Moving into the office, he stopped at the war table and moved a few pieces around. He traded out a dozen small moon-shaped metal figures for a single crescent-shaped piece that had a little heft to it.
He flopped down into the chair and searched for a piece of paper on the immense, mahogany, monstrosity of a desk. Isaak scribbled something on it. Michael wandered into the room. He dragged his fingertip over the dirty grout between the gleaming subway tiles and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Do you know Emit Fergus?” Isaak asked. “Tall, black guy, grey hair?”
Michael shook his head in answer.
“He’s the steward for old man Kingston. Get him this letter. You want to move forward, fine. Make sure Abel is working security for Austen.”
Michael considered bitching about that too. The man was practically obsessed with the scion of a broken house. He didn’t understand it. Abel Merrick and his brothers were useful tools nothing more. Their moves belonged to Nora, a skilled player of the game. There were far juicier targets. But some movement is better than standing still.
He nodded.
12
Chapter
Kylen scrubbed both hands over his face wiping at the sweat on his brow. A towel hung precariously from his narrow hips. He nodded at Jeffries hunched behind his locker stuffing old clothes into a backpack. He waved back and moved toward the door on the far side.
The gym was always in use. All the training for security and the royal guard was done here. The building buzzed. He could hear the clacking of keys from the administrative offices upstairs. The king may live in the Manor house at the edge of the property, but the government who ran the clan was housed here at the center of the square.
Aching Silver (House of Wolves Book 1) Page 3