by Mason Sabre
Guilt flooded him. Natalie would never know that the reason his desk faced the wall was so he didn’t have to see her sitting there.
His body and brain might do the right thing—he would honour his pack and mate like he was supposed to—but facing the wall meant that his heart could weep, and no one would ever need to see.
His eyes locked onto Gemma’s picture once more before putting her away in the drawer again—her and his crushed dreams.
He contemplated going to his room and climbing into bed—it would be light soon—but he felt too restless. He’d only end up lying there for hours, everything spinning in his brain and his frustration rising with each passing, sleepless minute. He worked instead. Work was easy, simple. It was why he had been promoted when William Harvey, his previous boss and mentor, had retired. He was good at his job.
There was a light knock on his door, and he quickly locked the drawer and flipped open Jessica’s file. He turned in his chair as Natalie slipped into his office. She was barefoot, only a chemise and a light robe which ended at her slender thighs wrapped around her.
She was a beautiful woman. Her looks spoke of Mediterranean blood somewhere in her heritage—such a difference to Gemma. Her hair was a mixture of shades of brown, and she had the biggest smile …
Yet, on Cade, it was wasted. Anyone else would have marvelled at being mated to someone who looked how she did …
But she wasn’t Gemma.
“You came in late,” she said conversationally. “Busy night?”
He half-turned in his chair and closed the file as she sat on the chair next to his desk. If she noticed the way he pulled back to put more distance between them, she didn’t say. A cool mask of nonchalance back on his face, he looked at her sombrely. “Jessica Cooke was found dead last night. Down at the old ICI.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh, God. That’s terrible.” A delicate hand crept to her throat. “Was she … murdered?”
“Yes.” His face hardened. “She was … eviscerated,” he said carefully, gauging her reaction. “Someone removed her heart and her unborn child ... left them right there on the ground next to her.”
She put her hand over her mouth. “That's so horrible.”
He slid the file across his desk to her. Some might have said him lacking in tact, but as Cade's mate, Natalie had to get used to being part of his world. She had to be used to seeing things like this and hearing about them. “Take a look if you want. We’ve not got much yet, but be warned, the pictures aren’t pretty. I have to talk to Malcolm soon and get permission to search her room. See what we can come up with.”
Natalie was staring down at the picture of the baby. Her light brown eyes shone with unshed tears. “What about the father?”
“Don’t know yet. But that baby is a mix-breed.” He pointed to the two twines in the umbilical cord. "Not sure what it was mixed with. Autopsy will tell us that.”
“Maybe the father did it?” She sat back on the chair and curled her slim legs under her. Cade averted his gaze.
He sighed heavily and leant back in his chair. “We’ll find that out when I get the results back. Until then, I need to find her car, and I need to search her room.”
Natalie tucked her long hair behind her ears, watching Cade. “I saw my sister last night,” she said gingerly.
“Kara?”
“Beth.”
Natalie had two sisters, both younger than her. She wasn’t like him or Gemma, the middle offspring … He quickly quashed any thought of Gemma from his mind. It was his turn to listen to Natalie, to be there for her. He could do this part. “Ah. How is she?”
“She’s good,” she said, bringing a knee up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her leg.
This was how she comforted herself, he had come to realise.
“She didn’t have any visions while I was there.”
“That’s good, right?” Beth was … mentally ill seemed a wrong term to use. While there was definitely something off about the way her mind worked, she wasn’t actually ill. It wasn’t unusual for shifters to have second powers, and Beth certainly fell under that category. So did Cade. He could get into people’s minds much more easily than other shifters, almost in a telepathic way. Beth, however, had the power of foresight, it seemed. He suspected Gemma’s older brother, Stephen, had had some kind of foresight, too. He would know things—in a way that was creepy. Beth seemed to have that in an incredibly high dose, though, and it had her looking like some kind of basket case.
“Yes …”
Cade raised a brow. “But?”
“She got new meds yesterday.”
“And that’s a bad thing because …?”
She moved uncomfortably in her seat. “Well … we hadn't paid for them. I called the office yesterday morning and asked about them. The woman said the account was all paid for and we didn’t owe anything.”
Natalie’s mother had had money problems since the death of her husband about four years ago. This was why the mating with Cade and Natalie was part political. If he mated with one of the Castle daughters, Mrs Castle got free passage into Society and the benefits that came with it. Right now, she had a temporary pass. It would be made permanent when Cade and Natalie wed.
“We are supposed to pay for it ourselves,” she whispered, underlying worry lacing her voice. “What if a huge debt comes and we can’t pay?”
“It was probably my father,” he said with a reassuring smile. “He likes your mother.” He likes the way he can use her to rise to power, too, thought Cade, but kept that part to himself.
“I can't ask him, though.”
Cade shrugged. “Just take it as something nice.”
She went to say something else, but Cade raised both brows. “Okay,” she sighed. “You’re right. It’s a blessing.” Her face broke into a smile. “She really was happy last night. The medication gives her some relief—and my mother, too.”
“Then take it as a gift."
"Yes. Sorry. It's just it is a lot of money." She stopped and sighed. "I'll be quiet about it now."
Cade sat forward, leaning strong forearms on his muscled thighs. "Can I ask you a favour?”
Her eyes fell to his bulging biceps before quickly looking away, her cheeks blushing pink. “Sure,” she said, her shoulders relaxing a little.
“I've to go out soon ... look at Jessica’s room. Do you think you would be up to coming to the estate later with me? See if you can pick anything up?”
The words felt like betrayal to Gemma as soon as they had come out of his mouth. He wanted to spit, wash his mouth out, and say nothing like that ever again. Gemma had wanted to go back to the estate and he had said no. And now he was asking somebody else … Natalie, no less.
But the truth was, Natalie could see things—not like her sister ... her power wasn’t as strong—but she could pick up things that had already happened in the past. If this had been anyone other than her, he’d not have hesitated to ask. He’d have done anything that was needed to try and find Jessica’s murderer.
But it was Natalie … and it felt wrong. .
He was about to take his words back when she blurted out, “Really? I’d love to—”
She blushed again, this time in shame, an appalled expression on her face.
“Sorry. That sounded terrible. Jessica is dead, and I sound like …” She balled her hands into fists in her lap. “Let me say that again, without so much enthusiasm. Yes. I’ll come.”
He gave her a small smile. “Okay.”
“Do you think …? Sorry. I know we said take everything slow, but ...” She took a breath. “Do you think maybe we could run together later? I mean, if you’re not too tired,” she added hastily. “Maybe you have plans. I—”
Without thinking, Cade reached out before catching himself. He quickly withdrew his hand and sat back. “I can’t promise I will be done by this evening, but—”
“Sorry. It’s okay.” She stood abruptly, clearing her throat and pulling he
r robe more tightly around her. “I know. I promised not to rush.”
“It’s not that. I promise.” He cursed himself inwardly. “If I get home in time, we can.”
A smile broke out on her face again. She was one of those women that were so easy to make smile. She was the cliché perhaps of wearing her heart on her sleeve. “Just message me either way. I’m going to do breakfast. Do you …?”
He shook his head before she could finish. “I have to work. I have to get hold of Malcolm.”
“Okay. I’ll bring you coffee.” She reached out hesitantly, then pressed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Cade tried not to tense at the contact. He was wolf, he could do contact … but his brain and heart screamed that this wasn’t the contact he wanted.
“That would be great. Thank you," he said.
When she had left, Cade mentally steadied himself and switched to work mode. Flicking open his laptop, he clicked onto his emails. He was hoping Avery had sent him the car registration plate by now, as well as an idea of what mix the baby had been. He cursed when he saw only two emails, neither of them from Avery.
The first one was a receipt from Beth’s pharmaceutical supplier. He opened it, checking the quantity and the price. “Paid in full,” it read. He filed it. As long as Beth was getting her medication, then their mother wouldn’t push for the actual mating, and his father wouldn’t yank him by the balls down the aisle to marry Natalie.
He felt cruel to be doing this—it was like paying his own freedom—but considering the alternative, he’d rather lie to Natalie.
The second email made Cade’s heart spike. The heading, “Test Results,” might as well have read, Shackles to go around the ankles. In Society, any potential mate had to be tested, vetted. They had to be free from disease and hereditary genetic problems. They also had to be able to produce children. Every damn box was ticked green, and the report at the end read, “The two candidates are a match. Procreation compatible.”
Closing his eyes, Cade clicked the delete button. It wouldn’t save him, but it sure as hell would buy him some time before Natalie started to chase results.
God damn it.
Chapter 9
Gemma
Every muscle in Gemma’s body seemed to freeze. If she didn’t need it, she was sure that her heart would have stopped, too.
Someone was in her house.
She had to force herself to swallow the juice still in her mouth. The gulp echoed loudly in the quiet room, a beacon for whomever was there.
Like in a bad horror film, she moved back from the odd safety of the refrigerator and closed the door carefully, half-expecting her intruder to be standing behind it, knife raised, ready to slash her to pieces.
There were no sounds in the house that she could make out. Her hearing was so good that she would have been able to hear a fly buzzing in the bedroom upstairs, but as she stood there, her ears and every other sense trying to scope the place out, she found nothing.
The light in the back garden came on again a second later, pinging itself into life with a hiss and illuminating the overgrown mess outside. Stealthily, she slid toward the back door. It felt like she was wading through thick, heavy fog that clung to her skin with a clammy chill. Chilly fingers of anticipation rose along her spine, calling to her tiger, bringing her to full alert.
A shadow moved to the side, inching across the window next to the door until the silhouette of her favourite stalker came into view. She couldn’t see him properly, but it was him for sure. She had watched him herself … the stalked becoming the watcher. Even though he never showed his face, only able to make out his chin from under his hood, she’d recognise that slim, tall figure anywhere.
Instead of keeping his usual distance, though, he now ran straight for the back door and tried to push down the handle, making Gemma gasp in shock. He’d never been this bold before.
The bones in Gemma’s right hand clicked and moved as she called to her tiger. She flexed her fingers as they formed claws, anger now overriding any previous fear she had been feeling. Hand still on the handle, the man outside backed away a little as if surveying the place. Gemma moved towards the door. She wasn’t afraid of him—if he had meant her any harm, he would have done something weeks ago and not played this stupid game he seemed so intent on bringing her into.
“What do you want?” she called through the glass. The light that cast itself behind him gave him an almost sinister look.
Her stalker didn’t answer. Instead, he threw himself against the glass door, the loud bang making her jump. She flexed her claws and leapt toward the door, ready for a fight. He jammed the handle down just as she grabbed hold of it, causing her wrist to twist and sending pain shooting through her arm. She let go just as he took a step back and then ran at the door again, slamming into it and making it rattle in the frame.
Gemma’s canines pushed down, ready to rip him to pieces. She watched him through the window with tinted eyes, and she knew they had shifted to her tiger eyes.
He thumped the glass in quick succession, grunting as he pounded, trying to break the durable glass. It was specially-constructed so as to be virtually indestructible. You couldn’t live in an Other community with flimsily-made homes. Shifters had enormous strength, and it wouldn’t take much for them to break through normal glass.
“Stop,” she yelled at him.
A crack started to form in the corner of the door, the sound echoing through the empty kitchen. A blur of movement caught her attention, and it took a second for Gemma to realise it wasn’t that of her stalker outside, but a reflection in the glass of somebody right behind her.…
She spun around, heart in her throat.
“What the—?”
Something hit her hard in the chest, knocking the wind and the words out of her before she had time to finish. She flew backward, her arm catching the pots and mugs on the counter, sending them flying and crashing to the floor. Her head slammed off the door as she landed on the floor, sending waves of pain reverberating in her skull. The world around her became a wash of dancing colour. She tried to blink her eyes back into focus.
Shuffling away, she used the door to try to lever herself up, but all she managed was blind grasping. As the unfamiliar man in the kitchen inched closer, she vaguely registered the rattle of the back door growing louder, then ceasing altogether—she was trapped.… Seems her ‘friendly’ stalker had been part of whatever this was. Maybe that had been the plan all along—have some skinny asshole stalk her so that she felt unthreatened and let her guard down, then they attack.
Illogically, she felt very … betrayed by him.
What an idiot she was.
Broken shards of pot dug into the palms of her hands and the muscles at the back of her calves. He was definitely not a shifter otherwise she’d have sensed that. But a Human would not be strong enough to send her flying through the air like he just had....
“Who the fuck are you?” she shouted as he came to stand over her.
Leering at her, he cocked his head to the side and let his gaze wander over her body, ending at her face. He was like the poster child for a wanted criminal. Short, black cropped hair gave his head an odd shape. Tattoos covered his neck and arms with green and black designs while his clothes clung to bulging muscles. He had modelled himself from the Thug-101 manual, and he had nailed it perfectly.
Hoping to catch him off guard, Gemma kicked out at him, but he easily evaded her. Pain shot through her ribs and chest from the movement and she gasped.
“Get the hell out of my house, asshole.” Her voice came out weaker than she had intended, still reeling from the blow to her head.
“Pretty one, aren’t you?” he murmured lasciviously.
He crouched down next to her, and Gemma frowned to discover there was no scent to him. Nothing.
“He said you were attractive, but shit, I didn’t think I would score this lucky.” He reached for her jaw, and Gemma tried to pull away, pushing her head back against the door. B
ut his fingers grabbed her easily, squeezing the bones with crushing force in one large, meaty hand. She raised her partially shifted hand, aiming for his face, but he caught her wrist and smashed it against the door at an angle that pulled her shoulder. “That isn’t a wise move,” he crooned, forcing her head at an angle while still keeping her wrist in a painful grip. “It’s a shame to ruin such a face. Perhaps I could leave this part untouched.”
“Perhaps you can leave it all untouched,” Gemma ground out, trying not to wince as he held her, crushing the bones in her wrist.
The man let go of her jaw and ran a knuckle down her cheek. She grabbed his arm with her free hand, but it was like gripping iron. Hard as she pulled, she couldn’t move it away. His hand slid down her throat, the tips of his fingers slipping inside the edge of her top. Gemma gritted her teeth and dug her claws into the flesh of his arm.
He didn’t even flinch.
“You should leave,” she growled. “While you still can.”
He laughed and shoved his entire hand inside her top, cupping her breast and squeezing painfully. Ignoring the pain in her wrist, she pushed against him with an angry cry and brought her knees up to smash into his back. He jolted forward but regained his balance fast. With a snarl, he brought a fist down into her face, sending pain exploding through her cheekbone. “This isn’t how we play the game.”
“Fuck off,” she spat out.
“I would, but I have my orders," he said dryly.
Orders? What was he talking about?
He let go of her abruptly but didn’t back away. Her cheek felt like it had swollen to two times its size.
“Seems there is a contract out on your pretty little head. Tell me … what could you have done that would piss someone off this badly they would call me?” He paused, tilting his head to the side as he stared down at her. “Not that it matters, really. I’m here now. We can have a little fun.”
He grabbed for her again, and Gemma slashed at his arm. She raised her head so she could bite into his flesh and rip the shit out of it, but he was too fast again, pinning both her arms above her head and pushing her down onto the broken mugs.