by Amanda LeMay
Gunner spun away from me, his face ashen. He stumbled like a drunk as he headed across the room to the bathroom. His hand swatted blindly at the door as he passed, in an attempt to close it behind him, but it only swung to within a couple of inches of the frame. From beyond the door came the unmistakable sounds of retching.
I’d done that, too. Unfortunately, I’d been without food or water for three days, so there had been nothing in my stomach to bring up. I’d laid on the floor, rolled up in a ball of anguish, as I dry heaved and sobbed until Rule ordered me to dress.
Somehow—for some reason, this felt worse. Standing here, listening, knowing that the sight of my scars moved a male to vomit, hurt deeper than the actual branding. Gunner’s reaction was all the proof I needed. When all I ever wanted was to belong, to feel loved, the marks Rule burned into my flesh to show the world where and to whom I belonged were the marks that would ensure I belonged nowhere. Once a pack found out, I would be shunned, ostracized for something that was not my fault.
Stop. Don’t let it hurt.
I blinked back hot tears. Jessy and Maygan believed Gunner would do the right thing. I had to hold on to that.
I followed Gunner into the bathroom. He stood bent over, with one hand on the wall behind the toilet and in his other hand, a wad of tissue he used to wipe at his mouth.
“I should’ve prepared you, but I didn’t think—I didn’t know. Gunner, I am so, so sorry.”
He heaved again, his body bent over as his muscles bunched up, but nothing came out.
“Sonofabitch.” He growled as he shook his head slowly back and forth.
I plucked a clean washcloth from a rack near the sink, rinsed it in cold water, wrung it out, and placed it on the back of his neck.
“This should help.”
He turned toward my voice. His face had lost all color except for two bright red patches high on his cheeks. The longest fangs I had ever seen rested against his bottom lip. Tears streamed down his cheeks, through his silver goatee, and fell off his chin.
“Gunner, I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
His Alpha power slammed into me, taking my breath away. With my heart pounding, I backed up, hit the vanity with my hip, but I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cower. I didn’t run. I refused to show weakness. I was done with being bullied.
Words hissed and slurred from between his canines. “It’s not okay! It’s so fucking far from okay!”
I held Gunner’s glare and watched as his face shifted from stark, hard planes full of anger to a quiet resignation.
Pain shone in his eyes—pain and something else. The angry power that had filled the bathroom only seconds before fell away as Gunner’s shoulders sagged on his huge frame. What he felt now, I did not want.
“Gunner, I don’t want pity.” I breathed in and let it out slow. “You look at me and it’s sickening. I get that. I’m revolting. But please, don’t pity me.” I closed my eyes and rubbed at my temples before I looked at him again. “All I want is justice.”
His anger flared again and made my head spin.
“Justice? Justice? There is no justice strong enough for what that sick sonofabitch has done to you.” Since his mouth was covered, his last words were mumbled, but I could make out the ending. “... fucking rip him apart.”
He tossed the tissue into the toilet, closed the lid, and flushed. With his hands on his hips, he dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath. As he slowly raised his head, his green eyes met mine with a steely determination that caused me to take another step back.
“You are not revolting. What was done to you, against your will, is revolting. You. Are. Not. Do you understand me?”
I swallowed hard, nodded once, and tried to keep my eyes from moving away from his penetrating stare. Still, his power receded...and for some reason, I missed feeling it, even if it was anger or pity.
“Simone.” Gunner closed the gap between us. His hand lifted my chin as he spoke. “Listen, I’m sorry I lost it. I just...” His eyes swept my face. He was so close, the heat of his body warmed my skin. “I’ve seen a lot of shit in my time but nothing like this. It’s...I can’t even think of one fuckin’ word to cover this.”
“Incomprehensible?” I offered, as my skin seemed to flush under his touch.
“Exactly.” His warm hand moved away, but the heat in his eyes held me in place. “As long as I live, I will never understand how a male could hurt a female in such a way. It’s just sick. He’s sick.” Gunner stared at the floor and shook his head. “And then to claim it’s in the name of mating?”
His head shot up, his eyes wide. Fear slid through me like icy daggers, but it wasn’t...my fear.
“Oh, hell...oh hell, no...” His words were a tight whisper edged in panic.
Suddenly, his hands were under my tee and flat against my abdomen.
“Gunner...” I gasped as he pushed me into the corner, holding me still. He was afraid. I felt it on every inch of my skin like a rising dread he had no control over. “Gunner, please...”
“Wait,” he whispered, as his eyes seemed to search mine. His hands squeezed a little tighter. He went down on his knees, pressed his face between my breasts, and stayed still, as if he were listening for something.
My breasts seemed to swell and ache with a sharp, sudden need. I clenched my fists. My fingers ached to slide through his thick hair and guide his mouth to where I needed him most.
He mumbled against my skin, “You’re not pregnant.”
I shook my head, confused. “No.”
He stood quickly and stepped back, pulling his hands out from under my shirt. My skin tingled with residual warmth as I sucked in a breath, feeling the loss of his touch.
And why would Gunner think I was pregnant? Of course I wasn’t.
My brands were only Rule’s first step in claiming my body. Hopefully, Gunner would wait for all the gory details. The details I’d shoved to the back of my mind. He also wasn’t the first person to see what I’d been through, though for some reason, after seeing his reaction, it was somewhat therapeutic. What Rule had done was not okay. Or normal. Or acceptable in any way. At least, not to me, and with Jessy, Maygan, Kern, and Gunner’s reactions to my brands, I knew I had been right to come here.
The accusations my mother had spit in my face, and ultimately, the rejection she gave when I begged for help, didn’t sting as harshly as they had before. Here, standing in front of me, was a male who wouldn’t just defend me—somehow in my heart, I knew he would fight for me.
Gunner sighed, leaned down, and picked up the washcloth I had laid against his neck from where it had landed on the tile. “Thanks.” He tossed it into the sink. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry for that, too.”
He reached out and turned on the tap, grabbed a bottle of mouthwash from a cabinet, and went through the motions of freshening up.
Standing there watching him was an almost intimate thing, but I couldn’t leave. The way his big body moved so gracefully, doing the simplest things, brought fresh waves of chills all over my flesh. Every move he made was powerful, commanding, sensual. He stirred something inside me, aroused my every female instinct, just by being in the same room.
He’s an Alpha male...mated to an Alpha female.
It was a brutal reminder. I wasn’t here for Gunner. I was here for justice.
He rinsed, then stared into the mirror at my reflection. His emotions calmed as his color came back. I still had more to tell, but now I understood what to expect from his Alpha power. I almost pitied anyone who brought this male bad news.
“This isn’t just about me, Gunner.” I held those, beautiful green eyes reflecting back at me as my throat tightened and tears burned my eyes. “While he held me captive, Rule brought in another female. He set five males on her. Used her as an example, should I ever break pack law. They attacked her in their wolf form. Tore her to shreds. Left her there bleeding. She eventually died from her wounds.” My voice cracked. I closed my eyes as tears
welled up and fell. “I couldn’t help her. I don’t even know her name.”
“Ah, fuck, Simone, I’m so sorry.”
I opened my eyes and sniffled. “So you see, what happened to me could’ve been so much worse.”
Gunner leaned against the vanity, bracing his body with his arms as he stared into the sink. “Torture and murder by a pack leader calls for a tribunal. Since I’m the one granting sanctuary, no matter how much I want to string Rule up by his balls, I’m not allowed to oversee the tribunal. My brother, Ralph, is the pack lawyer. He’ll have that duty. You’ll need to repeat everything to him. He’ll...” Gunner heaved another heavy sigh of resignation. “He’ll need to hear the whole story, see your brands.” He paused. His deep, rumbling growl vibrated off the walls. “Every damned one of them.”
And Gunner didn’t like that. I wasn’t sure how I knew he didn’t want to put me through showing my brands. Maybe it was the tone of his deep voice. But I’d prepared for this day. I’d had seven days of hard travel to think about what I needed to do, once I got where I was going. If it meant justice for me and the unknown female, I’d show my ugly brands to every Alpha of every pack.
“I understand.” I looked into the mirror and caught Gunner’s eyes as he looked up. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
CHAPTER TEN
WITH HIS HAND LIGHTLY touching the small of my back, Gunner led me through his beautifully rustic house. Each room we passed through looked warm and welcoming, especially a large living area furnished with a giant, brown leather sectional facing a massive rock fireplace. Several guitars on stands lined one wall, waiting for someone to come pluck a melody from them.
“Do you play?”
“Yeah, a little. Most of these belong to my son, Brenin. A couple belong to my nephew, Seff. What about you? Do you play something?” Gunner’s low, rumbling voice eased me in ways I didn’t understand. I wanted to answer him, in the hope that he would go on talking.
“I took piano lessons for years when I was younger, but I haven’t played in a very long time.”
“There’s a piano here in the house somewhere. I’d love to hear you play.”
I smiled. “There’s a piano here somewhere?”
“Yeah, this is one big fuckin’ old house. Built it when I became Alpha. There’s rooms here I don’t think I’ve been in since I swung a hammer to frame it.”
I stopped and turned to glance around at all the wood, stone, and tile. “You built this?” A sigh escaped my lips as I pictured Gunner shirtless, a glistening sheen of perspiration on his back as he pounded nails into wood under the fierce, Texas summer sun.
Gunner’s hand slid slowly from my back to settle at the curve of my waist. My skin tightened. My breasts tingled. Heat radiated from his touch.
“Well, if you don’t mind getting hopelessly lost, I’d be glad to give you a tour later.”
I looked up into his ruggedly handsome face, gazed into those eyes—not the color of an evergreen forest, no predictable, changing seasons running from extremely hot to freezing cold—but more the bright green of a tropical rainforest, with its exotic, year-round warmth and unpredictable rainstorms that begged you to stay and explore it forever.
“I’m already hopelessly lost.”
The smile that widened his beautiful mouth and formed little crinkled lines around his eyes said he already knew I was under his Alpha spell.
And I didn’t care.
Stop it! Just stop it.
I did care. I had to hold fast to the remaining shreds of honor I’d held so tightly as I’d run from the only home I’d ever known. I’d come here in the hope justice would be done, not to lead another male into believing I had something to offer, when I had nothing to give.
“I’m sorry.” I swallowed the thick lump of shame that had formed in my throat. “What I meant to say is thank you.”
The smile on Gunner’s face faded slightly as he nodded. Within a few steps, we entered the largest kitchen I had ever seen outside of a magazine. Jessy and Dain sat on stools at the end of a dark wood island that spanned almost the length of the room. Brenin and a few of the males I’d already met stood, leaning against the island or a counter to the side. Every one of the males was the epitome of what I’d always imagined a cowboy would look like—each so tall I could only guess at his height... six and a half feet at the minimum, with worn jeans, scuffed-up boots, white T-shirts stretched across wide shoulders beneath checkered, button-down shirts. Trim waists, dark, tanned forearms, and smiling faces completed the mix. A few wore cowboy hats, a few wore baseball caps, while the rest held hats in hands.
At one end of the kitchen, recessed back into the rock wall, sat an enormous, stainless steel range with two ovens below, large enough to cook food for an entire pack of wolves. Off to the side, on a counter, sat what looked like three huge slabs of raw, red meat next to a stack of roasting pans.
As I looked around the kitchen, I realized everyone had stopped doing whatever they were doing and stood quietly, waiting.
The members of this pack seemed so relaxed and easy around their Alpha. So unlike the members of Rule’s pack. From the small amount of time I’d spent with Rule, it was long enough to see he insisted on an almost military-style order: everyone alert and at attention when he entered a room. Fear of dishonor was a great motivator. Orders were followed immediately, without question...
Bind her hands.
My feet froze to the tile as Rule’s order whispered in my brain.
“Simone?” Alarm colored Gunner’s face.
Could he feel my changing emotions? Somehow smell my sudden panic?
I’m okay. I’m okay. Just breathe. I’m okay.
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, a shuffling noise came from the right side of the kitchen.
“Give me a hand with the damn door, somebody,” a female voice called out.
One of the males jumped and opened the door as a small, dark-haired female came through, carrying a large, burlap sack in her arms. The male took it from her and set it on the floor next to the sink.
“One of y’all start peeling those and I could sure use a few hands carrying in the rest.” She huffed, then looked up and saw me standing there. “Oh! You must be Simone. I’m Derry.”
The echo of Rule’s voice faded away.
She held out her hand, but pulled it back just as I reached out. “Dang, sorry! Wait a sec, my hands are covered in potato dirt.” She flipped on the faucet and washed up as a couple of males rushed out the side door to a white van, the sides painted with bold words Bodolf Market, alongside an address in Comfort and a phone number.
“Simone, I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes while I call my brother and set up a time I can take you around to talk with him.”
“You can call him,” Derry said over her shoulder. “but Ralph ain’t there. He’s gone down to Corpus Christi for the night. Got something he’s gotta take care of. Said he’ll be back in the morning.”
Gunner nodded, then looked around the room. “What are all y’all doing in the house?” His Texas drawl seemed more pronounced whenever he added that stern tone to his voice.
The males first looked around at each other, then back at Gunner.
“Yes, this is Simone. You’ve seen her, now go on, get.”
Amid the hats going on and tipping in my direction, there were a number of mumbled ‘Nice to meet ya’s’ before their boots shuffled out the back door toward the white van.
Brenin hadn’t moved. He stood, tipping a glass to his mouth until he finished the last of his drink, while he looked at his father. A rising tension seemed to seep through Brenin’s pores.
Gunner’s hand smoothed along my spine, the warm, soft touch soothing me.
“Brenin, son—”
Brenin set his glass down and pushed away from the counter. “Got work to do.” He brushed past Gunner as he left through a set of old-fashioned, bat-wing doors.
Derry took my hand then and shook it gently as she
glanced at Gunner with a smile. “Well Gunner, you’ve up and run off all my help.”
Dain stood from his bar stool. “Here, Jessy and I’ll get to work on these for ya, Derry.”
“I am not having guests in this house peeling my damn potatoes.”
“Oh, yeah, you are.” Jessy started opening drawers, looking for something. “Now give us a couple of potato peelers because if you make me use a paring knife, there’s not gonna be much left after we’re done.”
Derry laughed and opened another drawer, handing over two tools I could only assume were potato peelers, since I’d never seen one before. Once Dain and Jessy started to use them, they were extremely efficient.
Derry turned back to me and grinned. I swallowed, knowing I would have to accept the answer to the question I was about to ask.
“You are Gunner’s mate?”
“Oh, hell no!” A burst of laughter came from Derry. “I’m the cook and housekeeper here, which means I don’t have time for a mate, which, in my book, is also a good thing. I’m the only one who’s allowed to nag the shit outta Gunner for not picking up after himself.”
“Oh.” Okay.
“My mate’s not here.” Gunner’s hand moved from my back to my hip in a small caress. “She doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Oh.” His mate doesn’t live here. But...he is mated.
“It’s...complicated.”
“Neeta only comes ’round for official pack business and at Christmas when all the kids come home to visit, and occasionally at Thanksgiving,” Derry added as she took two small plates from a cupboard. “Here, have a snack, you two.” She laid what appeared to be two thick slices of plain yellow cake on the plates, then cut them both in half, slathered them with soft butter and set the plates in front of us.
“Thank you.” I blinked back the burn of tears that threatened to fall and looked down at the small plate in front of me.